We opt for Kamchatka. Like Timbuktu, Ouagadougou or Tbilisi, we like the phonetic melody of its name. Through friends, we find contacts and make plans to ski without having to travel everywhere by helicopter. The vast Kamchatka Peninsula in the Russian Far East is renowned for its heli-skiing. However, we want to sleep in a tent as much as possible and get around using our own muscle power.
“Hey! You got everything?” “Yep, the visas arrived this morning and I bought a truckload of chocolate!” Despite his cavalier attitude, Arnaud is a serious guy and very professional about everything he does. It makes him the ideal travel companion. It’s not my first trip with Arnaud and I’m looking forward to this new adventure with him and Vincent. So, here we are at the airport, three comrades off to Moscow. After a brief stopover and a quick visit to Red Square, we were off on serious business – Petropavlovsk, here we come!
Arnaud had booked us a room at a random hostel run by the Kamchatka Freeride Community. This hostel became the base and starting point for each of our Kamchatski adventures. After a few phone calls, we have a ride. The hostel team offers to give us a lift (by snowmobile) to a mountain chain with snowy summits right in the centre of the peninsula.
After arranging the provisions – especially large quantities of smoked salmon – we head off. Meeting other people is always the high point of our journeys. On this trip, I get to know Vincent better. He’s the perfect addition to the team.
Sliding over the plains towards the mountains on the horizon, accompanied by the smell of a two-stroke engine... Modern technology is not all that bad when you’re being pulled behind a snowmobile. Especially if you have to carry your food and camping gear for week.
Arriving at a plateau at the foot of these beautiful mountains, we immediately gaze up at the couloirs that lie before us. After setting up base camp, we pack our paragliding wings. There’s no wind. Climbing to the top of the pass, we take off to explore the world of birds. Soaring over birch forests and following the winding rivers. We can’t help but whoop for joy! Flying through the air, I think of Greg, a good friend who died not long ago. He had been here too. We shared the same passion for flying. I dedicate that airborne moment in the land of bears to him.
The weather is not great the next day, but it’s stable enough to attempt a couloir that we can see from our camp. What a first! Returning later, we decide to build a big wall of snow around the tents. It looks like the wind might pick up over the next few days…
Our intuition proves right. The conditions are so that we’re confined to the tents by a storm. In such moments, I often ask myself why I always choose this kind type of trip. It’s cold, the wind is blowing at 100 km per hour. I could be in a hotel or at home...
I pull on my boots and struggle out of the tent. I’m quickly reminded why I’m here. Around me, the wind is dancing across the peaks, whistling through the trees and whipping the snow into my face. I feel the cold numbing my hands. I feel alive. I’m part of this universe, just like the snow crystals that fly on the wind. I know why I am here. Some days with better conditions would be good though.
The storm subsides and we set out early towards the peaks we had seen from up in the sky. It takes a few hours to reach them. We stand overlooking the frozen valleys.
It’s our last day at the massif and there are still a few couloirs to go for. As usual, Vincent is up first, waking us with his now famous “Prrrrrrrriviet” (Russian for “hello”). He makes the daily porridge. With warm food in our bellies, we’re off in search of slopes. The snow is good and we find some great lines. Gliding on power is the best feeling on earth. It’s like you’re no longer subject to the forces of nature, but a part of them. It is a privilege to be able to create these weaving lines, leaving nothing but an ephemeral trace behind us.
Loading our three bags back behind the snowmobile, we return to Petropavlovsk to organise the next leg of the trip. Alexei, one of the founders of the Kamchatka Freeride Community, has an interesting suggestion: “Friends, tomorrow we sail for Russkaya Bay. There’s room on the boat. What do you say? We’re leaving at 5 o’clock in the morning…” It’s an offer we cannot possibly refuse.
After just enough time to replenish provisions, we set sail over the Pacific Ocean. The seven-hour crossing is something we will never forget. Despite the cold, we spend the whole journey on deck, marvelling at the volcanic, alpine mountain scenery, watching the sea birds and the elephant seals. We’re blown away by the sea’s infinite grandeur.
Russkaya is a timeless place where nature mingles with traces of human activity. An old tanker serves as a mooring pontoon. It once transported water with silver that was sold in Petropavlovsk for its healing properties. At the end of the bay is an ancient fishing village and the remains of a number of tanks and helicopters. Walking through the ruins, we feel like kids again, as we spot various items of treasure. We find chairs, other furniture and even books to furnish our base camp for the week. And around our three tents there are fantastic opportunities for skiing.
We wake up, eat breakfast and head out in single file. Our aim is to gain some altitude and then work out the best descents. How beautiful life can be when the days are so simple. With the skis on, we glide back down to the Pacific Ocean as the sun makes its first appearance of the day – it’s a wonderful spectacle. The royal blue ocean creates a breathtaking backdrop.
The next few days are windy and somewhat precarious. We still manage to ski a few of the slopes around our tents but the wind makes it hard going. Time becomes relative and the pace of the day is set by the number of flasks of tea we can boil and drink. It’s snowing outside and our tents are covered by a soft white blanket. Tomorrow is definitely going to be a ski day.
It feels like the wind has died down, so we set off towards a slope that looks over the ocean. Half-way through, the gentle morning breeze turns into a storm. Taking deep breaths, I lengthen my stride and move faster to avoid being knocked over. At the top, the wind whips into our faces.
Arnaud and Vincent join me, and we hurriedly remove our skins and aim for our arrival point back down on the beach. I decide to carry on down the ridge for a few minutes on my skis. A wind slab comes loose and takes a significant amount of snow down with it. A thousand metres below us, it draws a magnificent white fresco on the blue ocean. After watching it disappear into the bay, we immediately select a different route to ski down.
We have to wait until the final day to get dream conditions – a big blue sky and – more than anything – no wind. At the end of an amazing day, we head back to Petropavlovsk in an MI-8 helicopter. We watch in wonder as the sun sets behind the volcanoes, the mountains and the Pacific. We’re really grateful to the Kamchatka Freeride Community for taking us in. If the human heart is a sun, the more it shines, the more others will feel its warmth. We tried to spread as much warmth as possible – and it seemed to come back in return.
Thank you, Kamchatka, for everything you gave us.
By Lois Robatel
KAMCHATSKI ADVENTURES
ARNAUD COTTET
“Guys, where we heading next spring?” Arnaud is the connection between Vincent and me. We’re at the Diablerets glacier on a snowy day in January. Racing downhill, between the descents, we throw out ideas: “Russia could be good, we don’t know it that well.”
We opt for Kamchatka. Like Timbuktu, Ouagadougou or Tbilisi, we like the phonetic melody of its name. Through friends, we find contacts and make plans to ski without having to travel everywhere by helicopter. The vast Kamchatka Peninsula in the Russian Far East is renowned for its heli-skiing. However, we want to sleep in a tent as much as possible and get around using our own muscle power.
“Hey! You got everything?” “Yep, the visas arrived this morning and I bought a truckload of chocolate!” Despite his cavalier attitude, Arnaud is a serious guy and very professional about everything he does. It makes him the ideal travel companion. It’s not my first trip with Arnaud and I’m looking forward to this new adventure with him and Vincent. So, here we are at the airport, three comrades off to Moscow. After a brief stopover and a quick visit to Red Square, we were off on serious business – Petropavlovsk, here we come!
Arnaud had booked us a room at a random hostel run by the Kamchatka Freeride Community. This hostel became the base and starting point for each of our Kamchatski adventures. After a few phone calls, we have a ride. The hostel team offers to give us a lift (by snowmobile) to a mountain chain with snowy summits right in the centre of the peninsula.
After arranging the provisions – especially large quantities of smoked salmon – we head off. Meeting other people is always the high point of our journeys. On this trip, I get to know Vincent better. He’s the perfect addition to the team.
Sliding over the plains towards the mountains on the horizon, accompanied by the smell of a two-stroke engine... Modern technology is not all that bad when you’re being pulled behind a snowmobile. Especially if you have to carry your food and camping gear for week.
Arriving at a plateau at the foot of these beautiful mountains, we immediately gaze up at the couloirs that lie before us. After setting up base camp, we pack our paragliding wings. There’s no wind. Climbing to the top of the pass, we take off to explore the world of birds. Soaring over birch forests and following the winding rivers. We can’t help but whoop for joy! Flying through the air, I think of Greg, a good friend who died not long ago. He had been here too. We shared the same passion for flying. I dedicate that airborne moment in the land of bears to him.
The weather is not great the next day, but it’s stable enough to attempt a couloir that we can see from our camp. What a first! Returning later, we decide to build a big wall of snow around the tents. It looks like the wind might pick up over the next few days…
Our intuition proves right. The conditions are so that we’re confined to the tents by a storm. In such moments, I often ask myself why I always choose this kind type of trip. It’s cold, the wind is blowing at 100 km per hour. I could be in a hotel or at home...
I pull on my boots and struggle out of the tent. I’m quickly reminded why I’m here. Around me, the wind is dancing across the peaks, whistling through the trees and whipping the snow into my face. I feel the cold numbing my hands. I feel alive. I’m part of this universe, just like the snow crystals that fly on the wind. I know why I am here. Some days with better conditions would be good though.
The storm subsides and we set out early towards the peaks we had seen from up in the sky. It takes a few hours to reach them. We stand overlooking the frozen valleys.
It’s our last day at the massif and there are still a few couloirs to go for. As usual, Vincent is up first, waking us with his now famous “Prrrrrrrriviet” (Russian for “hello”). He makes the daily porridge. With warm food in our bellies, we’re off in search of slopes. The snow is good and we find some great lines. Gliding on power is the best feeling on earth. It’s like you’re no longer subject to the forces of nature, but a part of them. It is a privilege to be able to create these weaving lines, leaving nothing but an ephemeral trace behind us.
Loading our three bags back behind the snowmobile, we return to Petropavlovsk to organise the next leg of the trip. Alexei, one of the founders of the Kamchatka Freeride Community, has an interesting suggestion: “Friends, tomorrow we sail for Russkaya Bay. There’s room on the boat. What do you say? We’re leaving at 5 o’clock in the morning…” It’s an offer we cannot possibly refuse.
After just enough time to replenish provisions, we set sail over the Pacific Ocean. The seven-hour crossing is something we will never forget. Despite the cold, we spend the whole journey on deck, marvelling at the volcanic, alpine mountain scenery, watching the sea birds and the elephant seals. We’re blown away by the sea’s infinite grandeur.
Russkaya is a timeless place where nature mingles with traces of human activity. An old tanker serves as a mooring pontoon. It once transported water with silver that was sold in Petropavlovsk for its healing properties. At the end of the bay is an ancient fishing village and the remains of a number of tanks and helicopters. Walking through the ruins, we feel like kids again, as we spot various items of treasure. We find chairs, other furniture and even books to furnish our base camp for the week. And around our three tents there are fantastic opportunities for skiing.
We wake up, eat breakfast and head out in single file. Our aim is to gain some altitude and then work out the best descents. How beautiful life can be when the days are so simple. With the skis on, we glide back down to the Pacific Ocean as the sun makes its first appearance of the day – it’s a wonderful spectacle. The royal blue ocean creates a breathtaking backdrop.
The next few days are windy and somewhat precarious. We still manage to ski a few of the slopes around our tents but the wind makes it hard going. Time becomes relative and the pace of the day is set by the number of flasks of tea we can boil and drink. It’s snowing outside and our tents are covered by a soft white blanket. Tomorrow is definitely going to be a ski day.
It feels like the wind has died down, so we set off towards a slope that looks over the ocean. Half-way through, the gentle morning breeze turns into a storm. Taking deep breaths, I lengthen my stride and move faster to avoid being knocked over. At the top, the wind whips into our faces.
Arnaud and Vincent join me, and we hurriedly remove our skins and aim for our arrival point back down on the beach. I decide to carry on down the ridge for a few minutes on my skis. A wind slab comes loose and takes a significant amount of snow down with it. A thousand metres below us, it draws a magnificent white fresco on the blue ocean. After watching it disappear into the bay, we immediately select a different route to ski down.
We have to wait until the final day to get dream conditions – a big blue sky and – more than anything – no wind. At the end of an amazing day, we head back to Petropavlovsk in an MI-8 helicopter. We watch in wonder as the sun sets behind the volcanoes, the mountains and the Pacific. We’re really grateful to the Kamchatka Freeride Community for taking us in. If the human heart is a sun, the more it shines, the more others will feel its warmth. We tried to spread as much warmth as possible – and it seemed to come back in return.
Thank you, Kamchatka, for everything you gave us.
By Lois Robatel