SNOW Magazine: "The other side of extreme"

For SNOW Magazine, Jen Murphy came to Valdez for a girls’ trip with Valdez Heli-Ski Guides. Her subtitle sets the tone: Alaska just is not what it used to be - and a week with VHSG suggests it is much, much more.

Braided pigtails and a unicorn horn

She did not expect her guide to be rocking braided pigtails, a pink puffy and a hand-painted helmet topped with a unicorn horn. But when you are Kirsten Kremer, Murphy writes, you can wear whatever you want - because gravity-defying lines speak for themselves.

Kremer is pixie-sized at five-foot-four, but catch a glimpse of her sinewy forearms and there is no question this woman is sheer strength. Her male peers use words like "hero" and "badass". A California native, she came to the area in the early 90s when it was still the Wild West of skiing, luring daredevils like Shane McConkey and Chris Davenport with its near-vertical spines and untouched terrain. Doug Coombs hired her as a guide in 1996, and she has not missed a season since.

You can tell just by watching her eyes dart across a sea of peaks from the co-pilot seat, Murphy says, that she has every inch of our 10,000-square-mile permit area mapped in her memory.

The moment before you drop

That day, Kremer’s eyes were on the Ivory Tusk - a classic Chugach descent of 3,000 powdery feet. And here Murphy writes the most honest paragraph in the piece: if someone tells you they were not scared the first time a helicopter buries its skids into a knife-edge ridge and the guide gives the green light to exit, they are lying. She glanced at her three heli-buddies - a guy from Israel and two brothers from Vail - and they had gone pale.

One of Kremer’s many superpowers, she writes, is knowing you have got this - even when you have doubts. Anywhere else, you would expect a slope of that angle, with that much snow, to slide instantly. But this coastal area is blessed with a maritime snowpack that clings to 40-plus-degree slopes. It takes time to trust. There are dangers to navigate - sluff, bergschrunds - but Kremer, whose nickname is Gnarmom, drops the first line and coaches the group down by radio the entire way. Listen closely to your radio, and you may hear her crooning "this is the way we ski the powder" to the tune of the children’s song, lulling you into confidence as you drop into the scariest line of your life.

Dialing it up - or down

For the rest of the week, Murphy notes, Kremer is ready to dial it up (always her preference) or down, depending on her guests’ ability to handle the physical and mental challenges. When she first started guiding, guests came only for the gnar. Today she often guides a mix of abilities - some weeks leading descents of storied peaks, other weeks skiing intermediate terrain with nervous guests, and she is game for both.

The lodge, and the guests who keep coming back

With the lodge’s mostly female staff, Murphy counts an almost even male-to-female ratio that week - an anomaly in Alaska. It was the fifth Alaskan heli trip for Heather McInerny, Vanessa Bentley and McKenna Douglas, friends from Vail. They have booked other Chugach outfits, and are now VHSG devotees.

Over a dinner of king crab legs and wagyu fillet with truffle pomme puree, Kremer regales guests with outrageous stories of bear bites and extreme ski competitions. Then it is Woodstock Revival Night: karaoke and costumes follow dessert, and Brooke Edwards ensures the entire lodge is on the dance floor well into the evening.

The part nobody plans for

People book their first heli trip thinking it is a one-time, bucket-list experience, Murphy concludes. But once they get a taste of the endless terrain, the talented guides and the pampering touches of the Tsaina, they are re-booking for next season before they even fly home.

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Words by Jen Murphy for SNOW Magazine, High Season 2021/2022.