Can you go heli-skiing without the hellish pressure?

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There is a place deep in the mountains of east-central British Columbia, about five hours west of Edmonton, where the like-minded gather five months of the year to take part in a ritualistic devotion to winter’s holy grail: fresh powder.

This is not the usual fluffy stuff that descends on Canadians year in and year out. The powder these snow seekers desire is so gentle, so delicate and, if they are lucky, so darn deep that it cloaks these ancient, rounded mountains and glaciers in white coats of glory. In the Cariboo Range, helicopters drop skiers and snowboarders onto wide open runs to weave elegant S shapes into the snow, leaving rooster tails in their wake.

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Deep in the woods of this place sits a 27-room lodge surrounded by mountain peaks and pines, within sight of a glacier. The lodge, full of laid-back luxury and woodsy charm, is home to a couple of cats for cuddles and gung-ho powder chasers from all over the world. Many who’ve spent up to $19,000 to be here. Some return annually, some bi-annually, in order to achieve one million vertical feet skied – a milestone that can take eight or nine visits.

But what of skiers who’ve never experienced such snow? Those strong resort skiers who’ve heard orgasmic descriptions of the powder nirvana only reached by helicopter. Such skiers may love the sport but are put off by the competitive bro-culture too often a part of heli-skiing. Are these skiers also welcome at this powder temple? Will their inexperience and bumbling as they learn be tolerated amongst the hard-charging experts? During CMH’s Powder Intro weeks, the answer is yes, very welcome. Incredibly, it is an opportunity to experience heli-skiing without the hellish pressure to perform.

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The powder newbies, up to 10 students, are kept together. Ranked third out of three ski groups, they are the last to set off in the morning because the hard-driving skiers in Groups 1 and 2 demand more time on the mountain. For the most part, Group 3 is just trying to get down alpine powder runs, relearning skills they already know but are turned upside down (sometimes literally) in this new, supersoft world of snow. No one in Group 3 is chasing vertical – yet – they’re just trying to stay vertical.

There is no shame in falling. Group 3 will find comfort and bond over their mutual fumbling on these exquisite slopes. It’s the kind of skiing many spend their lives seeking: glacier runs down 1,000-foot-long tongues of untouched snow; “snow oceans” two or three city blocks wide where the wind has shaped the powder into waves; and well-spaced forests to weave through, including burned out areas where the charcoal trunks stand stark and stunning against the bright white.

Within this high church of powder, guides have more than 300 named runs within 1,489 square kilometres to choose from. “And each one of those runs,” mountain guide John Mellis will tell first-timers “are as big as a ski resort.”

On sunny days, even guides of the newbie group ask the heli pilot (note: it’s never called a “chopper” here) to head to the outer reaches of the CMH ski area – that means 15 to 20-minute flights up the Canoe River valley, over evergreens that look like they’ve been dipped in icing sugar, past blindingly white ridgelines and landing near icy-blue glaciers. On snowy, overcast days, all guests ski closer to the lodge in treed runs for better visibility.

Group 3 is always taken to areas where they can succeed and challenge their skills, spaced out tree runs, for example, where even the floppiest amongst them can find their way through the glades. A “you can do this” attitude is embraced and impromptu gloved fist bumps in the heli on the way back up to do another insanely long but breathtakingly scenic run help immensely.

Once the helicopter lands, (hovers really, just over the snow), skiers scramble out and kneel out of the blades’ path. Guides unload their boards, skis and poles and everyone braces for the rotor-wash snow bath that comes next. In Group 3, there’s no need to pretend to be cool about the tiny snow ledge they might find themselves on, where a few wrong steps could send someone into a deep crevasse. They’re given time to breathe deeply, take pictures and admire the 360-degree views before snapping into into their skis.

Group 3 bonds because, in this place, they dine and socialize with the 30 other experts at the lodge that week. During aprés, it may be hard to match the diehard’s tales of derring-do but it’s fun to listen.

“We like the powder newbies to meet and blend with the million-footers so they can learn what this sport is all about,” ski technician Keith Brodsky, who’s worked at the Cariboos Lodge for 11 years, explained.

Helping newbies understand the cult-like drive for heli-powder is key: CMH depends on returning guests. When snowboarder Krystyna Ostrowska, 66, of Toronto, tried a Powder Intro class years ago, “I felt like I was the queen of the mountain.” It’s addictive, she added, and returned recently to join an expert group.

A lot of guests chase that million-feet vertical goal. The prize? An ice-blue ski jacket and pants, branded with the Canadian Mountain Holidays Million Feet logo. A brag tag for sure but perhaps the real reward is feeling like they are part of a family. Last season, one older powderhound, a yearly guest since the 1980s and friend to many on staff, wasn’t physically able to keep up with any of the groups during his visit. He received a private guide, no questions asked.

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The chumminess and camaraderie at this powder church are not exclusionary – all are welcome. Even when Powder Intro newbies, hyper aware of their limitations, embraced the childlike wonder of learning and rebranded Group 3 to “the Muppets.” On the mountains, their phones played music from the kids’ TV series to psych themselves up (Animal’s Mah-na-Mah-na) or calm down after a hairy run (Kermit’s The Rainbow Connection). The group’s guides were bemused but often sang along.

All are welcome at the Cariboos Lodge bar, too. There’s nowhere else to go anyway and the big-city prices go down easier after a few hits of vodka off the shot ski. After a day of glacier skiing, there will likely be glacial ice melting in your cocktail glass, too.

But around the bar, there’s not a lot of talk about the environmental impact of flying in a helicopter six to 12 times a day to play in the snow. The religious fervour of heli-skiing will push down any twinges of regret though some guests will have purchased carbon offsets, as the company suggests.

As stewards of this powder playground, CMH is doing its best to cut emissions, waste and upgrade the technology of its mountainside fuel depots. It also purchases registered carbon credits in support of Great Bear Initiative, a First Nations-led project in British Columbia. In the summer, staff hike up into treed runs to keep an eye on the pines and work with forestry officials to keep them disease-free. CMH has also begun taking local First Nations elders and youth into the mountains, in part to inspire youth to start a career in adventure tourism.

For the powder devotee, the environmental tradeoff is an easy one to make. Skiing up in the heart-stopping beauty of the high alpine is addictive: CMH’s Powder Intro week is simply the gateway drug.

• Powder Intro weeks run at CMH lodges in the Bugaboos, Cariboos, Adamants and Revelstoke, and start at US$8,530 a person, including meals, accommodation, guided instruction and powder skis for the week. Bring your own ski boots. Flights and shuttles to the helipad from Calgary and Kelowna airports are not included. Powder Intro guests will receive a digital video of their skiing/riding throughout the week. cmhheli.com

The writer was a guest of CMH, it did not review or approve the story before publication.