You see a lot of sleds (snowmobiles) in ski films these days. The reason is simple, on the right days, with the right crew a sled is like a personal heli. It can get you to the top of some of the biggest lines of your life with no crowds and perfect snow. Sleds are also a giant pain in the ass and the give and take relationship with them is a constant battle. Dendrite Studios ski film is being done primarily with sleds because of our non-existent budget. So I thought it was time to give some advice and lessons learned on sled skiing over the past couple of seasons.

Buy a brand new or a slightly used sled with a warranty. Don’t mess around. Spend the money up front at the beginning. I am very thankful I decided to go this route right from the beginning. I’ve had more than a couple buddies buy used sleds only to have the engines explode within a few days of riding them and they just lost the 3-5 grand they spent.

People say its easy. Sledding is not easy. The first week I had the thing I hated life. I cursed the idea of ever buying one as I constantly dug the 500lb machine out of giant snow trenches. After that week I felt like I got hit by a freight train. I don’t think my body had ever been so degraded. Not after back to back weeks of competing in icy conditions while sending huge airs, not after soccer tournaments in Phoenix growing up in over 40 degree heat playing two games a day at 90 minutes a piece as winger, sprinting non stop from touch line to touch line, not after skinning from the wee hours of the morning until after darkness on long touring missions.

Sledding is a money pit. Forget about the initial cost. How about the gas and oil every time out. The truck to tow it. The ramp to get it in your truck. The ski rack to carry your skis. The straps. The bungees. The list goes on and on. It is not cheap, but way cheaper than a heli trip to ak, and it lasts all year. I still have things I would like to buy to improve the experience, but I choose to save the money.

Sledding is frustrating. This last week I got gas in my eye. The week before that I may have broken my finger (it’s still swollen and crooked). The week before that I flipped the sled into a giant tree well, and the list goes on. I feel like this year I have grown from advanced beginner to an intermediate sledder, but no matter what there always seems to be an issue. The only comforting thing is the fact that even the best sledders still get stuck. So the digging, pulling, flipping, lifting never stops. It just happens less often.

I also heard a lot when I bought the sled. “Oh, oh. Athan watch out. Lots of skiers just become slednecks because of how much fun they are.” They are fun that’s for sure. But I will never be a sledneck. Skiing is way more fun and pure. The sled began as, and will always remain a tool to ski bigger and badder stuff.

With all that being said there is no better way to ski the lines of your dreams with relative ease. I have skied or watched my buddies ski lines right out of every skier’s fantasies. It isn’t easy, and I really wish it didn’t allow the kind of access you can gain, because of how much of a pain in the ass it is. But one thing is for certain, now I can never go back. I will never be without a sled in the Coast Mountains again.