Splitboarding in Canada

 

Splitboarding in the Kootnenay mountains, Canada – hike uphill on two fat skis that convert to a snowboard for the run down. Photographs: Ed Blomfield

Out here there is no sound. Since the chopper dropped us at the cabin and turned back towards civilisation, its rotor noise receding to a faint echo, we've been on our own. Mountains can often seem ominously silent, like sleeping giants, but this is a whole new level. There are no foreign-tongued murmurs from the piste, no steel edges chattering on the hardpack, not even a low hum from the chairlift. Thick snow coats the vast natural bowl around us, muffling all but the most immediate sounds: my tramping feet; my steady breathing.

I'm in the Kootenay mountains of western Canada to sample an intensive six-week course offered by Nonstop, a British company based in nearby Fernie. It's called Master the Mountain and focuses squarely on improving your off-piste skills in skiing or snowboarding. The climax of the course is four days splitboarding (or ski touring) in the Canadian backcountry.

Splitboarding is a new movement in winter sports. Take an ordinary snowboard, split it vertically in half, and you have something resembling two fat skis. The idea is to leave the busy lifts behind, hiking up pristine faces of untouched snow using manpower alone. At the top the "skis" slot back together to form a normal board for the run down. And as any snowboarder can tell you, nothing beats the feeling of floating sideways through deep powder.

Accessing peaks on foot gives you greater freedom to roam than even heli-skiing and, according to professional snowboarder Jeremy Jones, a greater sense of reward. "You get this endorphin buzz on the way up – the runner's high – and then you get the adrenaline on the way down," he explains.

We arrive via a thrilling helicopter ride at Boulder Hut, our modest accommodation for the next three nights. Unlike your typical modern chalet, there's no internet, no TV, not even a telephone; a two-way radio is its only connection to the outside world. Batteries provide the cabin with limited power but most of the energy – at least in heating and cooking terms – comes courtesy of the wood burner, where a pot of herbal tea sits permanently stewing. A second stove warms the Casa de los Sueños (House of Dreams), a rustic dorm next door in which we'll be sleeping side by side.

The hut is run by Mark Yancey, an experienced off-piste guide, and his wife, Sarah. They move into this isolated dwelling each autumn and remain until the spring, when they swap Canada for Alaska. Their two kids, six-year-old Grace and three-year-old Alden, are home-schooled but seem happy enough making new friends among the guests each week and playing in their own private winter wonderland with Rosie, the family's enormous Pyrenean mountain dog.

Over a welcome meal of soup and freshly baked bread, our hosts explain the rules of the house and issue each of us with a mug and plastic lunchbox. It's up to us how often they get washed up, and indeed we're expected to pitch in with the rest of the dishes each evening. Out here in the unspoilt depths of British Columbia, all waste needs to be carefully composted or recycled, while calls of nature must be answered at the "pee tree", marked with a ribbon, or a simple A-frame outhouse buried beneath several feet of snow, where a chilly toilet seat covers a humble hole in the ground.

The following morning we fuel up on huevos rancheros (Mexican-style eggs and tortillas) and fill the lunchboxes with more carbs, including homemade "energy balls", an indulgent mix of peanut butter, chocolate and coconut. Not that we need to watch our weight – we'll be burning up to 5,000 calories during the course of a day's splitboarding.

Back in Fernie, the students practised turning their snowboards into skis and attaching the all-important "skins" to the base. Once made of seal fur, these days they are essentially strips of sticky carpet, but the effect is the same, allowing your skis to grip the snow when walking uphill.

Then we are on our way, hiking in single file up through the trees and on to the stunning upper plateau. Our group, which includes an IT manager from Warrington, a Dutch student, a London-based yoga teacher and an Australian mining expert, boasts varying levels of fitness, but no matter: Mark sets a slow and steady pace and we fall into an easy rhythm behind. I use the time to talk to the others about their experience on the course.

"I was fed up with the usual holidays where you spend half your time feeling rusty," says Shane Adams, who took a career break to make the journey from Telford to Canada. "We've had five hours' coaching a day and my snowboarding has really progressed."

Tuition on tree riding, maintenance, avalanche skills, video analysis are also included, as is a season lift-pass for Fernie are so guests can stay for the rest of the winter if you wish.

We plod on, lost in our own thoughts. What makes splitboarding special is the sense of immersion within the landscape, and, as you slowly gain altitude with each upward stride, the run back down the powder face is already being inwardly savoured. They call it "earning your turns".

Up ahead, Mark has already reached the summit, accompanied by Rosie the dog – a trotting polar bear in her thick white coat. "I bought her because they're guardian dogs, and we've got a lot of wolves and bears here in the summer," he explains. "Even when it's minus 25 at night she doesn't want to come inside. But she's turned out to be a really good mountain dog."

After stripping skins from the skis and fixing our boards back together, we're off. With Rosie bounding excitedly alongside, we drop into the shadow of a north-facing powder face and rapidly gain speed, throwing up rooster tails of light crystals before emerging into the sun-drenched plateau below. The splitboard's flex feels a little different to my regular board but I'm soon used to it, and in conditions of this quality you could surf a canoe.

We make several more climbs, each a little less demanding as our limbs begin to tire, before returning exhausted but exhilarated to the hut. Mark, Sarah and the kids claim first dibs in the outdoor hot tub, a Heath Robinson contraption heated via its own wood furnace, and we follow, darting barefoot over the snow as more flakes begin to fall. Squeezing six blokes into a small tin bath and keeping the furnace topped up with logs is a sure-fire way to raise laughter, and the group bonding continues over a fabulous dinner of wild salmon, caught and frozen by Mark's brother in Alaska.

Five weeks ago, many of the people around this table had never set foot beyond a manicured piste; now they are confident powder hunters, and talk moves to the next day's challenges.

"Tomorrow we're going to explore a different zone," says Mark. "And, just to warn you, if the snow keeps up then the heli won't be able to fly in to pick you up on Wednesday."

A collective glance flashes across the warm room. Bring on the snow!

• Nonstop's next Master the Mountain Off-Piste Camp, including splitboarding at Boulder Hut, runs for six weeks from 17 January 2012 (020-7720 6500, nonstopsnow.com). Prices start at £5,495 and include accommodation, food, transfers, a full season lift pass and 20 hours' coaching a week. Two week courses are also available from £1,750pp but don't include splitboarding. Nonstop can arrange return flights from Heathrow to Calgary with Air Canada (aircanada.com) from £600