Thwop-thwop-thwop...

So that's heliboarding, is it? I have a nasty feeling I may be gently hooked. Where to begin, then...

Well, let's begin with breakfast. The jet lag seems to have passed now, and I woke around seven. The restaurant was significantly busier than it had been the day before, and there was a definite buzz to the place. The sun was shining through the (many layers of) net curtains, and there was a gentle confidence in the air that 'helicopter' things may happen today. The heli operation is run by a company called Vertikali-mir, and there were several groups all staying at the hotel, from various different countries. So, after checking with Neil, we arranged to meet at 9, all ready to go. So, packing all the usual snow stuff, our ABS backpacks and some swimming stuff (for the hot springs on the way home9), we assembled by the chintz-wagon. It was a clear, sunny morning, although cold. A sunny day always makes everything look a bit better, and I think Petropavlovsk really benefited. Everything still looked slightly 'third world' and brown, but it somehow seemed more hopefully now, and slightly less miserable.

The journey to the airbase took around an hour, through various dilapidated towns and bumpy roads. The airport itself consisted of a central office/lodge painted a jaunty blue, and a large and badly-maintained airfield, on which were parked around eight or so Mi-11 helicopters. They were painted blue and white or orange and blue, but all had that 'ex-military look to them, and I could well imagine some had seen service in Afghanistan. As we unloaded boards and other gear, several other coaches arrived, all carrying skiers, and it gradually dawned on me that this was a fairly large-scale operation. Inside the lodge, it appeared that once again, they hadn't quite pulled it off. There's a definite lack of sophistication and taste in this country. They'd built a very nice office, with briefing rooms and bathrooms, and a sweeping staircase at the front, all in wood. They'd then gone and let themselves down by installing various partition walls, doors and windows all in white UPVC. Classy. They had a number of beautiful photos, all framed, hanging around the room, but most of them were very crooked. Since these were all well above head height, we wondered just how they managed this, So, after signing a piece of paper, and pushing our backpacks through the x-ray machine, we were walking across the tarmac to our helicopter. Safety briefings were conspicuous by their absence, although Neil and Lisa – our local liaison and translator – explained that the helicopter, when dropping us at the top, would only put it's nose on the surface, so we'd unload from the back of the helicopter to the front, to keep the weight forward. The helicopter was, as I'd expected, fairly sparse inside – well-maintained, but old, with various cables across the cabin roof. I got a great photo of Ben holding the end of a severed wire in his hand and looking bemused.

So, once we were all in, the rotors spun up, and we were away. It was my first time in a helicopter, and it's fair to say it was a lot smoother than I expected. It was also loud. It was strange to simply lift off into the air, and even stranger to see the world rotate around us as the heli turned to face the mountains. The first flight took around twenty minutes. As Neil explained, the first 'drops' of the day tended to be shorter and lower, since the helicopter was heavy with a full fuel load. As the day went on, we'd be able to go higher. The first drop was an experience I shan't forget. The unofficial signal is when Neil and Seb put their packs on and the copilot comes back to open the door. At that point, we brace ourselves while the helicopter slowly maneuvers into position, then Neil and Seb pile out, followed by the rest of us, one by one. As I came to the door, there was about a three foot drop to the snow and rocks. Once you hit the snow, it's essential to keep low to the ground, hold on to your board tightly and move away from the heli, so others exiting don't land on you. Once everyone was on the snow, and copilot shuts the door and the helicopter swoops away while we're battered by the downdraft. Seeing the brightly-coloured heli disappear below the peak and away is spectacular, and I don't think I'll ever tire of it.

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Originally uploaded by nickontheroad

At this point, we're left on a mountain peek, with spectacular scenery all around, and the Pacific Ocean in the distance. Neil, Seb and Lisa walked a little way away to survey the terrain and decide where to go – a pattern that would become familiar as the day progressed. The first run was icy, to say the least. I've learned that part of the heliboarding experience is that it's not always perfect powder, and that you can meet all sorts of terrain, Once the guides had decided where to go, we all set off. The scenery was spectacular and the snow, although untracked, was fairly solid in places, and we had to take care. Never mind, it was all about the experience for me. The first run down probably took about twenty minutes, and we eventually found ourselves in a valley, heading towards the helicopter, which was parked at the bottom where it opened out. Once everyone was down, we stood around for a couple of minutes, then loaded up and off we went again.

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Originally uploaded by nickontheroad

We did ten drops in total, all of which were longer and started higher than the first. On subsequent drops, we worked off various points on two adjoining peaks, with all the runs ending down in a river valley which snaked towards a bay, which must have been two or three miles away. As the day went on, as Neil had predicted, the sun softened the slopes, and it became much more pleasant. No-one had actually moaned after the first run, but once the snow was good, no-one was shy about the fact that it was 'much better than that first run!'.

I should probably mention my 'accident'. Off the top of our third drop, there was a very steep traverse. As a 'goofy' rider (right foot forward), this put me on my heel edge, which is harder. Those that didn't fancy it could take an alternate route with Seb, but my confidence was high. In hindsight, I probably should have rode it backwards ('switch') on my toe edge. I was right behind Neil, and negotiated the first two short traverses with no problems. On the third one, though, I saw Neil grab a tree and pull himself in. I felt okay...then began to slide. Then I kept sliding. It felt like I was moving in slow motion, and I've since thought about what I should have done, and why I didn't. I should have stood up into it, pointed round and carved on to my toe edge. It always felt, though, like I was about to get it under control. I ended up sliding what must have been forty or fifty metres to the bottom of the gully. It was never particularly dramatic, but I felt so helpless and, of course, I had no idea where I was going to end up. When I eventually came to a halt, I turned and waved to Neil to signal I was okay. Of course, I had no idea what to do at this point. I could see the chopper down in the valley, below, but I was hesitant about moving with a guide. I decided to phone Neil, but for some reason, it hasn't occurred to any phone companies that the mountains around here are ripe for coverage. Anyway, Neil shouted down and told me to wait for Seb, who was coming down with his group on that side, so that's what I did. So, no harm done, but a very good reality check. You always know everything's okay when a misadventure results in mickey-taking, rather than stern talking tos, and it turned out that the snow beyond the traverse was great. So, I'd negotiated most of the really hard stuff, then taken the really icy route down – truly, the worst of both worlds. Could have been much worse, I suppose.

Lunch also deserves a mention. We flew closer to the bay, and the helicopter dropped us at a point overlooking it. From here, we boarded down to the helicopter, which was parked next to the beach. We then had a picnic by the sea. I've never thought I'd ever stand on a beach in my snowboard beach. The evenings are long here, and we had lunch at around 4:30pm.

I've rambled a little. I'm finishing this the day after, as we have a later start to let the snow soften. I'm definitely sold on heliboarding, though. Ideally, we need a day off for it to dump snow, then blue skies. Of course, on ski holidays, the weather always does exactly what you want it to...

Oh, a quick mention for the hot springs we stopped off oat n the way home. It was in a sanatorium, and we all had to wear comedy flip-flops. Another mixed bag of Russians in the pool, including a rather attractive young girl and her uncle (we assume). She clearly wasn't a very strong swimmer, though, as he had to hold on to her to stop her sinking.