Have you ever wondered exactly how professional snowboarders make their living? It's a common misperception that they earn their money by competing alone. Although some are solely contest riders, for most competition is a platform to get recognized by sponsors. Others may never compete and instead send a demo video, or sponsor-me video, directly to the brand they would like to represent. The hope is to secure an endorsement contract in which the brand pays to be associated with the athlete. This is where the real money, and career longevity, comes from.

Once that level is reached the snowboarder may do some competitions on the side but their careers are truly made by filming a series of tricks throughout the winter to be showcased in a two to three minute video part. Snowboard videos, typically 30 to 40 minutes in length, are made up of 10 to 15 different riders parts. Snowboarders also promote brands through photos, interviews and travel stories in magazines and websites.

This creates a tremendous amount of pressure to produce media for the videos and magazines. The filming season runs from mid November to late May and it is usually limited to days with both sun and powder snow-not easy to consistently find. Productivity is achieved by flying around the world chasing the best snow wherever it may fall or using snowmobiles to access the backcountry.

Snowboarders rely on good snow to do their jobs but they also rely heavily on vehicles that produce large amounts of carbon emissions. When confronted with the choice between maintaining their careers and reducing emissions through alternate means of travel most choose the follow the status quo.

That doesn't mean change is impossible. Enter Natasza Zurek. As one of the most iconic female snowboarders she's represented Canada in the Olympics at Nagano and Salt Lake City. She's filmed numerous video parts for Burton, one of the biggest brands in the industry, and managed to stay at the top of their team list for over a decade. And she continues to make her own path, choosing splitboarding as a means to access the backcountry instead of a snowmobile. The decision is inline with her belief in reducing her carbon footprint but puts her at odds with the industry's traditional model of gathering media.

I recently had a chance to step into Natasza's world and follow in her boot pack. Here is the story of our day backcountry splitboaring. -- Gerhard Gross, Associate Editor Snowboard Canada Magazine

It's just after 9a.m. when Natazsa Zurek and I arrive at a small turn off on the side of Highway 99 in Joffre Lakes Provincial Park, north of Pemberton. We've left Whistler/Blackcomb and the valley's myriad snowmobile accessed backcountry zones behind for the day to search for powder the old fashioned way-with two feet and a heartbeat.

To prepare for the ascent Natasza slides her bindings off the specially mounted plates and breaks her board into two skis. Leaning them on the tailgate of her truck she affixes a set of skins-two board length strips with adhesive on one side and fabric on the other that allows you to glide forward but grips against sliding back. While I fiddle with my binding plates and generally struggle to copy the procedure Natasza points out the ridgeline on the North Arm of Joffre that will be our destination. It looks close enough; we should be up there in no time.

Skinning up.

Although we're near 1000 metres above sea level a recent rain has created a solid crust. We're hoping to find fresh snow soon but for now it makes the climb easy going. My natural tendency is to lift my skis like I'm walking but Natasza instructs me to slide my feet to save energy. Once I find a rhythm I'm able to focus more on my surroundings. It's immediately clear that touring on a splitboard is completely different experience than resort riding or backcountry sledding. 

The going is undeniably slow and sweaty but without a mechanical device propelling me uphill it's close to meditative. A stream babbles between deep fissures in the snow. The squeaking of our bindings blends with the chirped conversation of some hidden birds. Sun streaks through the canopy of needles above. Sweat stings eyes. Lungs burn.

 "I like splitboarding because you can really slow down," says Natazsa as we stop for a drink of water. "With a snowmobile you tend to move around quickly. I like the idea of going slow and appreciating the day and the moments. I also really want to be more conscious about my actions towards the environment. It's not as easy as it looks though. At first I was thought I could hike up and pinch off a few shots but it's really hard work. This is my first season so I'm still trying to get into shape and work up my stamina. It's kind of like a wait and see for me because I haven't had that much opportunity to shoot yet. But it's really something that I have to do and at this point I'm just going with what my heart is telling me."  

There's no doubt her journey will be an uphill battle as will the rest of our day. We're a little over halfway up and the snow conditions are far from what we had hoped for. Looking at a set of crusty pillow stacks that would be perfect in good snow is nearly as painful as my burning quads.

Crusty pillows.

Above the pillows we crest onto a plateau and the snow finally begins to improve. The cliff band looms in front of us and we switchback through the trees on the left hand side.

The first ridge.

At the top my heart has barely stopped pounding before Natasza suggest we head one ridge higher. I suppose this is the kind of attitude that got her where she is. Besides the snow looks good and it will add a couple of hundred metres to our run.

Heading for the second ridge.

Standing at our goal we see a massive natural avalanche that has come down in the bowl on the opposite side. The scene triggers something in Natasza and after we transform our skis back into proper snowboards she shares the biggest reason she got into splitboarding.

Putting your board back together is as easy as one, two, three.

After a brief safety discussion we're ready to redeem our cardio credits for some well earned vertical. Working for your run means you truly savor it. It took us nearly four hours to reach the top and each turn seems a little more memorable. Even though the snow is only knee high the feeling is left etched much deeper in my mind than any resort pow day. There's no sense of urgency to get to a run before anyone else, just the bliss of cutting untracked turns at your leisure.

Back at the bottom we stop for a moment to refill our water bottles. As I dip the mouth of bottle in I'm filled with an exhausted satisfaction followed by a sense of incredible calm. It's a rare moment to find in an increasingly technological and mechanized world. The stream is laden with tree branches giving the water a slightly bitter but earthy taste. It's the best water I've ever drank.