Skijoring: Being Pulled Through the Snow by a Horse
The first time I tried skijoring, I fell within three seconds. A horse named Dahan lurched forward on a frozen river outside Burqin, the tow rope went taut, and I pitched backward into powder still holding my poles like an idiot. By the fifth run I was laughing so hard I could not see. Skijoring — skiing while a horse (or dog) pulls you — is one of the most unexpectedly fun things I have done on a Xinjiang winter trip, and almost nobody talks about it. It is the kind of activity that does not show up in any brochure but ends up being the story you tell for years.
The word comes from a Norwegian term meaning “ski driving.” In Xinjiang it shows up informally on frozen rivers and wide snowfields, especially around Altay and the Ili valley, where herders already keep strong steppe horses. It is not a resort sport with a ticket window; it is a grassroots winter pastime you arrange through local horseback operators or village hosts. On the frozen Ulungur riverbed near Burqin I found a family who ran skijoring for visitors on weekend mornings, using a gentle mare that clearly enjoyed the work more than the tourists did.
What You Actually Need
Beginners use cross-country or all-mountain skis, not racing gear. The skill is less about carving and more about staying loose and letting the horse set the pace. A good operator keeps the horse at a walk or slow trot for first-timers and only opens up once you are stable. I wore my normal ski jacket and goggles; the cold river wind at speed is sharper than on a lift, so add a layer and cover your face. I also recommend thin gloves rather than bulky mittens, because you need to manage the tow rope with your hands.
Safety is mostly about the rope and the ground. The tow line should have some give, the path should be clear of rocks and open water, and the horse should be accustomed to skiers. Reputable winter activity operators in the region already run dog sledding and snowmobiling with the same safety mindset, and skijoring is often an add-on they handle well. Ask whether the horse has pulled skiers before; a horse that spooks at the sight of poles is not the one you want.
How It Compares to Other Pulled Sports
If you have done snowmobiling or dog sledding, skijoring feels more personal — there is a living animal at the other end of the rope, and the rhythm is gentler. Dogs are faster and twitchier; horses are steadier but much stronger, so the operator’s control matters more. For a non-skier companion, the other non-ski activities around Altay might be a better fit, but skijoring is surprisingly accessible because you do not need to be a strong skier to enjoy it. I watched a seven-year-old on short skis get pulled in happy circles while her parents walked alongside.
Cost and Logistics
Skijoring is usually priced by the run or by the half hour, and it is among the cheaper winter activities you can book — often less than a single lift ticket at a major resort. Bring your own skis if you have them; many operators only provide the horse and rope. Wear a helmet; I saw one rider clip a low branch and was glad for mine. And confirm the cancellation rule if the temperature drops below about minus 25, when even the horses refuse to work and the river ice gets noisy and unreliable.
An Honest Take
Skijoring is not polished. The “track” is a packed river or a field, the horses are working animals not theme-park performers, and conditions vary wildly day to day. If you want a groomed, photographed experience, this is not it. If you want a raw, laughing, slightly-ridiculous afternoon that you will tell people about for years, it is one of the best low-cost things to do on a Xinjiang ski trip. Many of the best winter moments here happen off the groomed runs, and this is firmly in that category.
Ask at your guesthouse, bring a sense of humor, and wear something you do not mind falling onto. Then, when the rope goes taut and the horse leans in, just relax and let the river carry you.
Frequently Asked Questions
Do I need to be a good skier? No. Skijoring is more about balance and letting the horse lead than about technique. Confident snowplough control is enough to start.
Is it safe? With a calm, experienced horse and a clear, obstacle-free path, yes. The main risks are falling (rarely serious on snow) and a spooked animal, which is why operator choice matters.
Dog or horse skijoring? Horses are steadier and stronger; dogs are faster and twitchier. For a first timer I prefer horses — the pace is gentler and the handler has more control.
What does it cost? Usually by the run or half hour, and among the cheaper winter activities — often less than a single lift ticket at a major resort.
Can kids do it? Yes, on gentle horses at a walk. I watched a seven-year-old circle happily on short skis while parents walked alongside.
When to Go and What to Wear
Skijoring runs on frozen rivers and fields from about December to February, when the surface is reliably packed. Wear a helmet, goggles, an extra layer for the wind, and thin gloves to manage the rope. Below about minus 25 the horses refuse to work and the ice gets noisy, so most operators close — respect that. The best sessions are calm, cold mornings after a fresh freeze, when the riverbed is glassy and the only sound is the horse’s breath.
The Run That Changed My Mind
I went in skeptical — another tourist gimmick, I assumed. The operator, a wiry man named Aierken, sized me up, handed me cross-country skis, and told me to relax my knees. His mare Dahan stood calm as a stone. On the first run he led her at a walk while I found my balance; the rope’s pull was gentler than I expected, more invitation than yank. By the third run he let her trot, and the river ice blurred past at a speed that made me whoop.
The skill, I learned, is mostly in the legs: soft knees, centered weight, and letting the horse set the line while you steer with slight edges. When I fought it, I fell; when I trusted it, I flew. Aierken laughed and said the horses teach better than he does. After an hour my thighs burned in a way skiing never quite produces, and I understood why locals love it — it is social, silly, and deeply physical at once.
We finished with tea in his truck, and he told me the river is only safe from late December; before that the ice is “talking” (his word for cracking) and he won’t take anyone out. That kind of local rule, passed down and respected, is exactly the safety culture I trust more than any sign. If your operator can’t tell you when the ice is safe, find another.