These Renegade Hunters Are Skiing into the Backcountry with Their Bird Dogs
Skis are easily the most efficient way to cover snowy ground on foot in winter. Which begs the question: Why aren’t more bird hunters using them?
photographs by
Peter Wadsworth
,
story by
Ashley Thess
|
SHARE
We may earn revenue from the products available on this page and participate in affiliate programs. Learn More ›
FOR MOST upland hunters, Alaska’s winter effectively puts an end to their season long before regulations do. Some hunters turn to snowmachines, which are loud and cumbersome; others resort to snowshoeing, which is exhausting and inefficient. Peter Wadsworth spent 10 years skiing Vermont’s backcountry before moving to Anchorage seven years ago; he knew there was a better way.
At the time, Wadsworth wanted to use his skis to access ptarmigan country. Old-timers and newer locals alike told him the same thing: “You can’t hunt on skis. It doesn’t work.”
Most Alaskan skiers don’t hunt on skis, so the ones he chatted with didn’t have any suggestions. The long, skinny cross-country skis and old-school backcountry setups in their garages simply wouldn’t work to navigate the deep powder and steep terrain he had in mind.
So Wadsworth, now 44 and a full-time adventure photographer, drew on his extensive ski touring background—and plenty of trial and error—to find the right ski setup that could take winter bird hunters up where they needed to go, fill limits in snow up to 10 feet deep, and get them back down in short order. He experimented until he came up with the perfect recipe.
His unique kit includes a pair of thick, short skis (better than long cross-country skis for maneuvering tight terrain) with lightweight bindings and ski mountaineering boots (a hard boot with more flex than the kind worn at a ski resort). Wadsworth has shared his setup with other hunters, and it’s gotten popular enough that a local ski shop immediately recognizes a Wadsworth disciple when someone wanders in to ask for this strange setup.
The real magic, however, happens with the final piece of gear: climbing skins. Most downhill skiers rely on chair lifts at ski resorts to carry them effortlessly up the mountain; obviously such luxuries don’t exist in the backcountry. Willow ptarmigan, Wadsworth’s main quarry, live in the snowy valleys outside Anchorage, but he can still gain up to 2,000 vertical feet on a hunt. Without skins, he wouldn’t be able to climb even 5 feet without sliding backward into creek bottoms or drainages.
Besides his own buddies, Wadsworth knows very few skiers who hunt like he does. (Scandinavians traditionally ski-hunt for ptarmigan, but they use .22 rifles and don’t run dogs.) He’s gotten some interest from hunters on his Instagram page, but estimates just 10 people ski-hunt like he does in the Anchorage area. Which is a shame, because not only is his method a ton of fun, it’s also incredibly effective. Instead of a brutally hard hike, Wadsworth’s hunting party glides up the terrain for half the journey and slides down the second half, allowing them to stay out longer, travel farther, and find more birds.
Ashley Thess is the Assistant Gear Editor for Outdoor Life, where she edits and writes gear reviews. Originally from Missouri, she now lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, where she keeps an unruly gear closet. Contact the author here.