Nerds Are Ruining Backcountry Skiing

Nerds! Self-Righteousness! Paleolithic Murder!

Taking backcountry skiing seriously is seriously dumb. I always figured that it was so purposeless, so goofy and impractical that it couldn’t become nerded out and uptight. I was so, so wrong.

In 1991, high in the Alps on the Austria/Italy border, German tourists found a body melting out of a glacier, assuming it was a mountaineer. Which was true, but the mountaineer had actually died more than 5000 years ago, almost perfectly preserved by the ice. The body, nicknamed “Otzi”, was well-equipped for mountain travel with specialized gear, and also had been involved in (and killed by) some kind of interpersonal conflict, as evidenced by the arrow lodged in his back. We’ll return to him later.

Nerds! I see you. You want to turn the purest and oldest form of skiing into road biking, rock climbing, content creation and influencing. We had one last game we could play just for fun, and now you’re trying to define it, police it, score it, hack it–for ego, profit, or because you just don’t know how to loosen the hell up.

Last winter at happy hour I asked a couple of vet patrollers if they had attended the annual fundraiser for our local avalanche center (I missed it owing to… happy hour). I was kind of shocked at their instant negative reactions. I mean, the event highlight was a presentation from Kirkwood’s patrol director about a 150-mile/80,000-foot vert Sierra traverse that he’d done the spring before–cool stuff. One of the redcoats (who actually is a bc skier!) snarled through his mustache: “I don’t need to hang out with a bunch of self-righteous nerds in brand new puffies.”

I should have seen it coming. Things go in cycles, and with all the hype some kind of backlash was inevitable. Later, I read a write-up on the fundraiser and learned that when the Kirkwood patroller mentioned that he and his partner didn’t bring avalanche gear on their epic traverse because the spring conditions made them unnecessary, the local crowd was outraged. Which does sound pretty self-righteous and nerdy. Debate is good, but getting holier-than-thou about the protocol choices of the snow safety director at a Class-A avalanche resort is stepping-on-your-dick delusional.

Maybe it wasn’t the terrifying concept of someone else’s beaconlessness that bothered them, but the threat to their self-image as avalanche-dodging practitioners of a dangerous adrenaline sport that demands thousands of dollars worth of esoteric safety equipment.

Doug Coombs pioneered the crown lines of the Chucach on the Fritschi bindings that everyone decided were totally insufficient for our radness. Eric Pehota and Kirk Jensen did the first descent of (the 55-plus degree! In full powder!) Meteorite Mountain on GS skis. Telluride legend Himay Palmer spent decades crushing peak descents in leather boots and wool pants. Davo Karnicar skied Mt. Everest (sans helmet!) on Fritschis and the softest AT boot ever. You probably don’t need $800 bindings that go to 15, an airbag backpack, a sat phone and gps, and of course the all-important plastic safety hat to tootle down whatever you’re skiing. 

Maybe Otzi was a nerd. He certainly had the quiver of expensive gear–specialized shoes, clothes, sophisticated fire starter and first aid kits. Maybe he was just spraying too much about his Strava track, or “sending” a line with some pompous name. Perhaps he was lecturing more experienced mountaineers about their safety protocol. Maybe he dropped in above someone in a sluffy couloir, or tried to interview people in the gondola for social media content, and a surly local did the paleolithic version of “vibing” or “gatekeeping” by putting an arrow in old Otzi’s back.

Backcountry skiing is great because it has so many possibilities–I wish I could share the good parts with everybody. But I feel like a few self-important dorks have created expectations that are distorted from reality. Ignore the influencers. It’s ok to be learning the sport, to be a non-expert, to use old, or the “wrong” gear. There’s no cheat code, the process is the pleasure. And the point.

Painting on a blank canvas in the mountains–there’s your day. That’s all it is, and that’s a beautiful thing. For Otzi’s sake, people, let’s focus on the fun stuff.

This story originally appeared in the print magazine POWDER 2026 Photo Annual. Copies are still available while supplies last. Click here to get yours.