As the heli whirls us over the spire-filled land-scape, Rudi points out notable runs and land-ing zones. The Purcell Mountains are dramatic, smooth-sided stone towers punching up from wide alpine bowls. It’s serious terrain, but luckily Rudi has five decades of experi-ence—some of which, have been less cautious than others. “The early days of heli-skiing were total cowboy years,” Rudi says, through crackling headphones. “One time a group of us were out with Hans Gmoser flagging landing zones. We were easing into one and everyone was trying to figure out if we were close enough to land. Hans looks out the door, says, ‘Yes,’ then throws his pack out only to watch it tumble down the mountain face. We weren’t even close.” We disembark atop a stunning run called Top of the World, only to find the alpine zone is wind-hammered, with plates of crust and raised sastrugi making the going anything but smooth. No worries, advises Rudi, who has many other options in a tenure that spans 770 square miles. A couple of quick turns down the ridge and Jeff has us on a different aspect, with soft, boot-top powder underfoot. When we pull up to a stop, the effect of the mountain panorama before us is hard to put into words, but Rudi offers the perfect explana-tory anecdote. “My father began guiding heli-skiing in Switzerland around the same time I started here. Then one year, Hans Gmoser had me invite him over for ‘exploration week,’ something we did at the start of every season. Standing on a peak like this with my father, he finally understood what the attraction was for me here. He said, ‘If I were 20 years younger, I’d stay here, too.’ That was good because it let me off the hook of any expectation to return to Switzerland.” Farther down the ridge we duck into the trees, where shaded chutes and a huge pillow feature provide for endless lines to which we return again and again. The pickup, where the pilot meets us after each circuit, features a grizzly bear rub—a tree marked by claws with fur stuck to the bark—sug-gesting it’s still as wild out here as the day Rudi arrived. Scattered throughout the tenure are three hand-built cabins used for lunch stops or emergency shelters. The one in which we enjoy soup and sandwiches faces the pillow line we just skied, with a distant overlook to the Selkirks. Both Rudi and Jeff settle in with their sandwiches, and stare out over their domain. eeping with Gertsch tradition, Rudi introduced Jeff to skiing early; Jeff was 3 years old when he first went heli-skiing, on a run called Rudi’s Ridge, located adjacent to Kick-ing Horse Mountain Resort. Considering his grandfather’s history in Switzerland, it’s no surprise Jeff ended up guiding alongside his dad. It does make you wonder, however, if some part of Rudi misses his homeland and the family legacy he chose to leave behind. In many ways, he was able to maintain those national ties with Gmoser and other Swiss expats working in the moun-tains of Canada’s west. Rudi, in fact, also had a great working relationship and friendship with celebrated photographer Bruno Engler, another Swiss guide. Two of Engler’s most recognizable shots involve Rudi: in one he does a spread-eagle off the Mount Norquay Tea House; in another, also on Mount Norquay, he is a silhouetted in a large powder cloud as he descends. “It’s ironic those two photos are so famous considering I got kicked off Mount Norquay the next year,” Rudi says. “I was coaching kids and they called me in and said, ‘You’re skiing too fast.’ I said, ‘Kids need to go fast and get some mileage on their skis.’ “They let it go for a bit, then called me in again and said, ‘You just don’t get it; you ski too fast. Get your gear and get out.’ Years later, after Bruno died, I went back to Norquay for the Bruno Engler Memorial Race, dressed in an old costume and riding 135-year-old, 240-cm-long, steam-shaped skis. One of them had a split repaired with a flattened-out coffee tin fastened to the wood with baling wire. But I won first prize—a season’s pass to Norquay. The old-timers who remembered me being kicked off had a good laugh.” Another favorite is when Rudi was hired to ski for the 1968 movie Downhill Racer , starring Robert Redford, who was reportedly scared just standing in the start gates. The produc-ers received permission from FIS for their cameramen to ski the famous racecourses like Lauterbrunnen and Hahnen-kamm—but only if they’d skied the courses in the past, which K 044 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume Eleven, Issue Four: Page 44
