Carving looked like magic until a coach in Altay broke it down. Here is the unglamorous, cold-fingered path from skidding to actually cutting clean lines on Xinjiang’s hardpack.
I did not go to Xinjiang to heal anything. But the combination of snow, silence, and sore muscles did more for my mood than I expected. Here is the honest version.
Resort ski theft is rare but real. Here is the honest case for a ski lock on a Xinjiang trip, what kind to bring, and when it is pointless.
Goji grows all over Xinjiang, and in winter it shows up in tea, soup, and my pocket. Here is why this little berry earned a spot in my ski bag.
Turpan’s grapes are famous, but winter is when they taste like memory. Here is how a grape break fit into a Xinjiang ski trip, and what to eat alongside.
Xinjiang’s dry winter air makes for some of the clearest night skies in Asia. Here is how to catch a meteor shower between ski runs without freezing your camera.
The steppe around Xinjiang’s ski regions is its own quiet world in winter. Here is how to experience it on foot, by sled, and with your eyes open.
Above the ski towns of Xinjiang, someone carved animals into stone thousands of years ago. Here is how to find them without wrecking your legs or the art.
I expected a ski trip. I found a pottery wheel in a heated shed. Here is how making a lopsided bowl became the warmest part of a freezing week.
Between ski runs in Xinjiang I found a quiet room with ink and paper. Here is why winter calligraphy became the unexpected highlight of my trip.