The real extreme sport: skiing in Afghanistan

By Sebastian Abbot

Associated Press

Published: Saturday, March 17 2012 12:00 a.m. MDT

In this photo taken Saturday, March 3, 2012, professional snowboarder Clint Allan jumps over a house in Koh-e-Baba mountains, Bamiyan province, Afghanistan.

Associated Press

KOH-E-BABA MOUNTAINS, Afghanistan — A gaggle of villagers deep in the mountains of central Afghanistan stared in wonder as a professional snowboarder from New Zealand launched himself over half a dozen young children, two of them perched atop donkeys.

It was one of the oddest interactions between foreigners and Afghans in the decade since U.S.-led forces invaded the country, and the result of a surprising tourism push in a country at war.

International aid workers and enterprising locals are trying to attract snowboarders and skiers to the untouched slopes of the Koh-e-Baba mountains to improve the fortunes of Bamiyan province — the site of towering Buddha statues destroyed by the Taliban in 2001, and one of Afghanistan's poorest provinces.

It's no surprise that challenges abound.

Though Bamiyan is largely peaceful, it's tough to convince any but the most adventurous travelers to come to war-torn Afghanistan. Once visitors land in the capital, Kabul, they face the tricky prospect of catching a diplomatic or humanitarian flight since no commercial airlines fly to Bamiyan. A few hardy foreigners have braved the six-hour drive despite the threat of robbery and kidnapping.

There are no ski lifts, so every ascent requires a lung-busting climb up snow-covered mountains that rise to more than 16,000 feet (5,000 meters). Skiers climb up using "skins" — pieces of rough fabric stuck on the bottom of skis for traction. Snowboarders use special boards that split down the middle and then lock back together for the downhill.

The writers of the definitive (and only) guide to skiing in Bamiyan also suggest the "donkey lift" — hiring a villager's donkey to carry you up the mountain.

The commercial guest houses open in the winter provide little more than a bed and a traditional wood-burning stove, and "apres ski" is limited to tea, kebabs and parlor games.

But the mountains are spectacular and provide seemingly endless runs down pristine slopes filled with nothing but the sound of the wind and the rush of skis against snow — a far cry from the crowded trails of American and European ski resorts.

This was the draw for a group of professional snowboarders from New Zealand and Australia who traveled to Bamiyan in late February to film a documentary. They were terrified when they arrived in Kabul, especially because of violent protests against U.S. soldiers burning Qurans that left more than 30 people dead.

"The amount of guns and razor wire that I saw on my way to the guest house from the airport only confirmed what I expected," said Alex Cameron, 22, editor of a snowboarding magazine in Sydney. "But stepping off the plane in Bamiyan, I felt completely safe."

Arriving in Bamiyan does feel a bit like being enveloped in a pastoral painting. The flight into Bamiyan city first makes a flyby of the gravel runway to make sure it is clear of animals and people. The plane lands with views on one side of the snow-covered Hindu Kush mountains, and the niches of the Buddha statues carved into sheer red cliffs on the other.

The snowboarders spent a week traveling with a local guide down Bamiyan's bumpy roads past clusters of mud brick houses looking for steep slopes to shoot down and things to jump, including cliffs, houses and, yes, donkeys — although it took some time to convince the animals' owner it was a good idea.

Once permission was secured, Clint Allan, 26, and his 24-year-old brother, Mitch, raced over a jump built in the snow and soared about 10 feet (3 meters) in the air over the animals and local children.

The two tried to ride the donkeys afterward, provoking howls of laughter. They didn't have much luck getting the stubborn animals to move until a local kid started whacking the animals with a stick.

"It was sweet!" said the elder Allan.

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