"Before I even started skiing, I was watching skiing," said Gary Ashurst, a longtime Ketchum-area resident and French Alps ski guide.
Thirty years ago, Ashurst, 51, drove out of the crowded avenues of Southern California and into the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. Since that day he has skied professionally, created a guiding company in La Grave, learned French, skied 50-degree and 8,000-foot runs and survived a near-fatal avalanche.
One thing Ashurst has not done, is look back.
Prior to moving to the Wood River Valley, Ashurst skied for South Oregon State College in Ashland. When he had two quarters left before graduating, the college cut out the budget for the ski team.
"I said, 'Alright, I'm moving,'" Ashurst said.
Jackson, Wyo., was his initial destination, but after a little convincing from a friend, Ashurst ended up in Ketchum in 1976—the infamous year when Mother Nature packed up her snowmaking machine and left Central Idaho in a winter-long sea of brown sagebrush. Anyone who has lived in the Wood River Valley long enough has heard of the winter of '76.
"There literally was no snow all winter," Ashurst said. There was a limited amount of man-made cover. "I skied Flying Squirrel and Lower Warm Springs all year. At the end of the day, the only question was, 'So, did you ski the right side or the left side.'"
That summer, Ashurst got a job as a machinist at Scott USA, making and repairing ski boots. The next winter brought renewed optimism and officially tagged Ashurst a "Sun Valley Ski Bum."
"I sank every penny I had into a $700 season pass." The figure sounds awfully inviting when compared to today's prices.
Three years later, Scott USA's manufacturing division moved to Utah.
"I decided unemployment was better than Utah," said Ashurst, who remained in Ketchum and began working as a general contractor.
After a decade of skiing Baldy and hiking the Sawtooths, his thirst for adventure again took hold. This time, there was no mountain in North America that could quench it and Ashurst headed for a small community in the French Alps called La Grave.
"As a kid, I remember seeing these pictures of the Alps, these huge beautiful mountains. I had to see it for myself," Ashurst said. In 1990, La Grave, a grouping of five villages on a glaciated peak with a combined population of around 500 people, had almost no skiing.
"The first year I was there I remember skiing down a run with 3 feet of powder. When I reached the bottom the lift was off. I asked the operator if they were closed. He replied, 'No. But no one showed up, you want me to turn it on?'" I believe, you, the reader, can fill in the appropriate answer.
Ashurst and his friends pioneered many of the runs now found around La Grave. "We would go out fully equipped with climbing gear," Ashurst said.
Many of the routes on the mountain require skiers to navigate over, around and down rock outcrops and cliffs. "We set up rappel stations, sank anchors into the rocks and routinely repaired and replaced ropes," Ashurst said.
After guiding for a French company for several years, Ashurst started his own company called Global Adventures.
"I loved it. Active, healthy, and really fit skiers would come over from Sun Valley and be amazed at the beauty and the sheer elevation changes of La Grave," Ashurst said. "People would come over who had kind of lost their love for skiing. After a week of skiing powder on perfect bluebird days with no one else in sight, they would get that glean back in their eye," said Ashurst. "The next year they would be back and in better shape than ever."
Last season, tragedy struck.
"I was skiing with Jon Siegel (a well-known skier from Aspen, Colo.) and Gary Sawyer on one of those bluebird days in Montgenvre with 18 inches of fresh powder, when our nightmares manifested," he recalled. "The beautiful snow we were skiing released its hold at the bottom of the snow pack carrying Jon and I through the forest below.
"Miraculously, I hit one tree and survived. Although seriously injured, good fortune prevailed with a prompt heli-rescue. I was airlifted to the Briancon Hospital where a five-hour surgery managed to repair my shattered frame.
"Jon did not have the same luck. He incurred traumatic injuries that ended his life, a leaf fallen, before its colors could reach their peak."
The recovery process has been long and arduous, but Ashurst is on the mend. "I feel like I have gotten over the hump," he said.
"The mental aspect is just as, if not more important than the physical," Ashurst said. He is getting back into his routine of hiking, biking, weightlifting and "lots of yoga."
"Yoga is the best thing you can do to increase your power range and decrease your chance of injury."
Ashurst hopes to one day be able to return to the Alps and resume guiding, but only time will tell. In the meantime, he asks Ketchum residents to "take some turns for our fallen heroes this winter."
If you would like to read more about Gary Ashurst or for more information on Global Adventures, go to globaladventures.net.
Ketchum resident Gary Ashurst is looking forward to life?s next great challenge. Photo by David N. Seelig
