The Private Difference: White Space and White Gold
Of all the backcountry adventures I’ve been on with Jeff, the only time I really thought I might freeze to death was not on some snow-covered peak.
It was in the international terminal of LAX.
We had gotten off an overnight flight from Kauai, and had a five-hour layover before boarding our last leg to Calgary, then home.
Drunk on the persistent night-and-day warmth that Hawaii serves up, and heading to LA, in spring, we assumed shorts and tees would see us through comfortably.
Wrong. So wrong.
The early morning hour, in a body that was craving sleep, combined with the most aggressive air conditioning I’ve ever experienced, meant we spent those hours alternative between cuddling together to preserve warmth and brisk walks and push-ups to create it.
It was desperate.
Tough winter people, eh? We’ve never travelled without hoodies since.
So we were actually looking forward to getting on our next flight, being sardined in with all the other passengers, absorbing the ambient body heat of a faceless crowd.
But then a weird thing happened: the flight hardly filled up.
We stretched out over two sets of three seats, fantasizing about lying down, and kept our eyes at the top of the aisle.
You know what I’m talking about here…. ?
You watch the stream of people appearing at the front of the plane, lock your laser eyes on each one to will them to sit anywhere but your row (and the row right behind if I’m being greedy), and pray that the empty seat beside you will stay empty right up until those sweet, sweet words come over the intercom:
Well, the flight definitely had room to spare.
We warmed up. We slept. It was magic.
The point is, being on board with a small operation can totally change your experience.
Since we’ve committed to offering nothing but private heli-skiing (one group, one heli, that’s it), clients have gotten to see all the ways that it can take an exceptional thing (heli-skiing) and make it even more exceptional.
Fly from one piece of terrain to the next, guided by your group’s own flow and appetite, without being affected by the logistics, delay, fuel use, or ability level of another group.
Time to head somewhere new? Let’s go, team. And that’s that.
Ease of mobility translates to more terrain variety, no waiting, and making the most of every minute of heli time – not sending it back to pick up the others, just taking you to the next drop.
Your group’s pace is all that matters. No hurrying off the pad, breaking up the flow to time a lift, or tapping your toes at the pick-up.
And while any one of those is a significant boost on its own, put together, they add up to more than the sum of their parts:
Space to have your own experience.
It feels like what I would call ‘white space’. The negative space. What’s been left untouched. What’s not cluttering up the page.
In our regular lives, it can be hard to maintain empty space. The margins of our time so easily fill up, trying to fit everything in and make everyone happy.
But the time when there’s nothing scheduled,
the space to stretch your arms on a flight,
the silence of the backcountry,
being surrounded by possibility, not restriction..
Well, it’s pure gold.
And in our world, that’s white gold, to be more precise.
A freeing wilderness experience awaits. Limited space still available. Get in touch to find out when.
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