Xinjiang Skiing

On still, foggy winter mornings, Xinjiang’s branches wear feathers of ice. A skier’s guide to finding, photographing, and simply standing in rime frost without ruining it.

The far north of Xinjiang sits at aurora latitude with fabulously dark winter skies. Here is how I planned a ski trip around the lights and actually saw them.

Between ski runs, the wooden Tuva villages of the Altai offer a silence and a culture no resort can sell. Here is how I visited respectfully and what I took home from it.

Between ski days, the region’s manti — hand-folded steamed dumplings — became a obsession. Here is where they come from, how to eat them right, and why they belong on every northern ski trip.

A skier’s field notes on Xinjiang polo — the lamb-and-rice pilaf that powers northern ski trips, where to find a good bowl, and how to eat it without weighing down the next morning’s legs.

After the lifts close, Xinjiang’s beer culture — from crisp lagers to Russian-influenced brews — is a genuine part of the experience. Here is my measured guide to the post-slope pint.

Between the butter tea and the vodka, Xinjiang’s quieter drink is green tea — and on the slopes it is the smartest thing in my flask, steadier than coffee and kinder than the heavier brews.

Age is not the end of the powder dream. Here is what I have seen work for older skiers tackling Xinjiang’s big, dry snow — safely, warmly, and joyfully.

The Kazakh tradition of hunting with golden eagles is alive in Xinjiang’s north. Here is how I approached it respectfully and what I learned from a bird that weighs more than my backpack.

Between ski runs, Xinjiang’s mounted traditions — buzkashi above all — offer a wild, unforgettable afternoon. Here is how I found one safely and what to expect.