Renting a car in Xinjiang is easy; fitting the skis in it is the part people fumble. I have done the frunk-shove, the back-seat-diagonal, and the roof box, and only one of those I would repeat. Here is the clean version, learned across a dozen winter drives and one very public roadside repack. The car is the last leg of the trip; the gear is the reason for the car; and the two meet badly if you pack them in a hurry, as I once did on the shoulder of a highway with a ski bag in the slush.
The mistake most visitors make is treating the skis as luggage. They are not; they are the fragile, expensive, irreplaceable reason you flew here, and the drive is where they are most at risk, not the flight. A battered tip is a ruined run, and a lost ski on the highway is a lost day, so the roof is a responsibility, not a convenience. The drive up is part of the ski day; pack it like the first run depends on it, because it does, and the first run is only as good as the gear that arrived in one piece.
Roof box versus soft bag
A hard roof box is best: locks, weatherproof, and leaves the cabin for people. A soft ski bag on a rack is cheaper and fine for a short hop, but it exposes the gear to road salt and the occasional ice spray. The airport transfer page covers the flight side, and the same rule applies: the rigid case wins for a long trip. The flying with gear guide is the prequel if you flew the skis in; this is the drive after, and the two share one truth, protect the edges, because a battered tip is a ruined run. The box is the armour; the bag is the gamble; and the gamble is only worth it when the drive is short and the weather is kind, which the Xinjiang winter rarely is.
Securing it properly
Two straps, not one, and a third if the box allows. I check the rack at every fuel stop in cold weather because plastic and metal shrink and loosen as they cool. The fly-with-gear guide assumes the skis survived the flight; this assumes they survive the drive, and the drive is the longer risk. I have seen a bag tumble onto the lane ahead of me, and the twenty seconds of chaos taught the lesson better than any manual. The loose ski is the one that finds the car behind you, and the car behind you is the one that did not sign up for your repack, so the second strap is for them as much as for you, and the third is for the cold that loosens the first two.
Boots and the small stuff
Boots ride inside, always. A frozen boot left on the roof is a ruined morning. The resort shuttle is the alternative if you would rather not drive, and plenty of visitors skip the car entirely. But if you drive, treat the load as live cargo; a loose ski on a highway is a bad day for everyone behind you. I keep a small bag of tools, a spare strap, and a scraper in the cabin so a roadside fix does not mean unpacking the roof at minus 20. The shuttle guide is the backup if the car fails, but the car usually does not, and the boots inside are why I can walk to the lodge even if the roof does. The boots are the part you need first; keep them where you are, not where the wind is.
The drive itself
Winter valley roads are cleared fast, but the last climb to the car park can ice over. Go easy, leave distance, and arrive with the gear still on the roof and the boots still warm. The transfer option is there if the weather turns, and knowing it exists is half the peace of mind. Drive like the load matters, because it does, and the smug feeling of pulling into the lot with the skis still attached is its own small reward after a long road in the cold. The drive is the warm-up the lodge never gives; do it slow, do it strapped, do it with the boots in the cab, and the first run starts in the car park instead of the repair shop.
A final note: park so the box faces away from the wind if you can, and crack it only when you are ready to ski. A roof box left open in a gust dumps the contents onto the snow, and the snow keeps what it gets. I have watched a hat and a glove become permanent residents of a resort car park that way, and the small things are the ones you miss at the top of the lift, so close the box, check the straps, and walk to the chair with everything you arrived with.
Box, tray, or straps
The closed box is the safest for skis on a long highway run: locked, aerodynamic, and kind to the bases. The open tray is cheaper and fine for a short hop, but it exposes the gear to grit and the occasional thieving glance at a rest stop. I have used both, and for a multi-day drive I take the box every time, because the skis arrive clean and the thief moves on to an easier car. Straps alone, over the bare roof, are the budget option and the riskiest; I only do it for one pair on a familiar road, and I triple-check the knot before I pull out.
Security on the road
Lock the box, and when you stop, take the really expensive bits inside. At a roadside diner I once left the poles on the roof and came back to one missing; the box had held the skis, but the poles were a gift to whoever walked past. I now treat the roof as a moving safe, not storage, and nothing valuable stays there when the car is empty. A cable lock through the skis and the rack is the cheap habit that has saved a set more than once, and the ten seconds it takes is cheaper than a new pair.
A highway lesson
Once, on a windy pass, the tray I had half-tightened started to sing, a low whistle that rose to a rattle. I pulled over, found a strap slipped, and learned the check I now do at every fuel stop: tug each strap, spin each bolt, feel the box sit flat. The mountain does not care how you arrived, but the highway does, and the gear that arrives is the gear you can ski. The skier who treats the roof rack as part of the trip, not an afterthought, is the skier who unpacks two skis instead of explaining to the rental desk why there is only one.
The drive is part of the trip
I have come to enjoy the load-up as the real start of the ski week, the moment the gear is secure and the road opens north. A rattling rack is a small worry; a silent one is a small joy, and the check at every stop turns an anxious noise into a confident one. The mountain begins at the driveway, not the base, and the rack that carries the skis calmly is the one that lets the trip start relaxed instead of rushed.