Well Guided

Disappointed. That was the vibe Matt Meinhold was getting from his clients one day. They had come from around the globe to ski powder at Points North Heli in the Chugach Mountains of Alaska, and the conditions weren’t so hot. “So I told our heli-pilot to fly us over to an unexplored area I had seen the day before where I thought the snow would be better,” Meinhold remembers. This time he hit the jackpot. The conditions off the peak he’d chosen were light and fluffy — what some like to call “hero snow.” His clients were happy at last.

In Alaska, most ski runs end on a glacier. While the satisfied skiers enjoyed a glacier picnic, Meinhold began stomping snow down with his skis to prepare a landing zone for the helicopter. That’s when something caught his eye: It looked like a giant boulder tumbling down a nearby slope to the east. Or was it? A second look told him otherwise. It was, in fact, a grizzly bear — headed in his group’s direction.

“I told my clients to put away their food, including their beef jerky, and to get their gear ready,” says Meinhold. As the skiers scrambled to prepare for a quick exit, luck would be on their side. The bear suddenly took a slide, butt backwards down the slope. Everyone watched as the bear continued to plummet down the glacier some 1,500 feet, and then slide out of sight. The group’s sigh of relief lasted only a few moments …

For most of us, this would hardly be “just another day in the office” — but for a backcountry ski guide, adventures like this come with the territory. After a decade of guiding mostly in Alaska and Utah, Meinhold now lives in Park City full time. He’s in good company with dozens of current and former guides who call Utah home.

One of them is Ray Santa Maria, former owner and lead guide of Park City Powder Cats. Santa Maria has seen much in his 15-plus years guiding in the Utah backcountry … an interesting career choice for a boy who at age 12 “hated skiing” and kept his athletic passions focused on the surf. “When I was in college, a surfer friend invited me up to Mammoth [Mountain] for the winter,” he remembers. “That changed everything.”

Santa Maria’s education was completed both in and out of the classroom. The “out” part was as valuable as the “in” — learning from day to day in the backcountry. Most guides agree, the classes for avalanche certification, EMT courses and first aid training are crucial, but there’s more to becoming a qualified guide. “It’s your people skills that tie it all together,” explains Patrick Reddish, a longtime guide with Ski Utah’s Interconnect tours. “Five minutes after meeting your group, they have to have trust in you. Then you need to manage numerous situations, while making sure people are safe and also having fun.” Santa Maria echoes those words, explaining that if you don’t “love people,” you have no business being in this business.

There are no official numbers on how many backcountry guides live and work in Utah, but it’s safe to say the men outnumber the women. Ski Utah Interconnect Guide Deb Lovci would know. “I love all the guys I work with. We each bring something a little different to the table, the yin and the yang if you will,” she says. Plus, she adds jokingly, “Did I mention that all the guys I work with are good looking?”

The fringe benefits, however, come with a job that’s both physically and mentally demanding, where lives can be at stake each work day. A guide can ski up to 25,000 vertical feet in a day, carrying a 40-pound pack, all the while checking snow conditions, assessing risks, and making decisions that only he or she is qualified to make. On a windy, snowy day, or even a bluebird powder day, the guides carry the stress of responsibility.

Another misconception about this sought-after job has to do with monetary compensation. “It’s rare to be able to make a living at it,” admits Reddish, who supplements his guiding with a film career. “You’re not in it for the coin. There’s a lot of camaraderie out there, and for me, it’s about wanting to work in the ski industry and for the love of the backcountry.” Meinhold agrees, and while he admits to missing his springtime forays to Alaska, his current job as a firefighter makes more sense in the “real world.” Both Santa Maria and Meinhold continue to get their guiding fix now by working part time for DreamQuest Sports.

… the grizzly’s head popped up again. The animal started heading straight for Meinhold and his clients. The group had already “geared up” in case Mr. Grizzly was fixated on joining them — so they were somewhat ready, or as ready as they could be, for this bizarre National Geographic thriller-meets-heli-skiing scenario. Meinhold instructed the group to start down the glacier, while he tried to get the helicopter pilot on the radio. As the bear moved closer, Ken, the heli-pilot, came through over the air waves. “Yeah, I see him. He’s hot for you guys, huh?” After letting the group sweat for a bit, Ken dipped the chopper down. The bear stood on his hind legs and swiped at the blades before running in the opposite direction.

Once in the air, the relieved group could see that the bear had been only about 100 yards from its intended heli-skier dinner. “Want another run?” Meinhold joked. Surprisingly, the group responded with a resounding “Yes!” (as long as the chopper stayed nearby). Then the skiers respectfully named the run “Bearbait.”

Katie Eldridge has had the good fortune to have arched turns in Cordova, Alaska and here in Utah on numerous perfect bluebird days. When not out enjoying the best snow on earth, she’s heading up her public relations and video production firm, Panic Button Media.