The crew comprises of director/filmer Guido Perrini, filmer/data wrangler Tim Burgess, filmer/producer Matt Hollis, photographer Tero Repo, drone pilot Christoph Weber (yes, the same ex pro and long time collaborator of David Benedek), paramotor pilot Christophe Blanc Gras and the athletes – Tahoe’s Ralph Backstrom, Zermatt’s Sam Anthamatten and of course, the driving force behind the project: Xavier De Le Rue.

There is enough gear and food to last nearly three weeks, and it has taken months of planning to assemble everything. But as the sound of the chopper blades slicing the air fades to nothing there is a palpable moment of elation. Everyone knows that for now there is nothing else, the hard work is done. All that remains is eating, sleeping and, depending on your role, shredding, flying or capturing the action on film.

Camp is set up in three hours and Christophe, as the most senior Frenchman, assumes chef’s duty. Plans are made to leave an hour before first light so we will get up at 4.15. Everyone fills their bottles from the last pot of boiling water to put in their sleeping bags as makeshift hot water bottles. More than six feet of snow has fallen in the last week and the forecast is for five days of settled weather. At this point it couldn’t be more perfect.

I wake at 1.30am to the sound of war. A volley of explosions fills every bit of space in the valley. I slowly gather my senses… I’m in a tent and we are camped in a safe place. I pull on my boots and run outside. Ralph, Sam and Xavier are already stood looking at Grandma’s Wrinkles, the jewel in the crown of lines they wanted to ride. The sky is clear, but a shimmering mist of snow particles hangs in the air, and through it you can see the mountain is bare. It has been stripped back to the rock – an entire winter’s worth of snow has fallen off the face. More than 6 meters of base has avalanched, triggered by a cornice the size of a combine harvester falling off the ridge. The torrent of snow it has created is terrifying – it is the biggest avalanche I have ever seen and it has run more than a mile down the face and out over the glacier below.

“An entire winter’s worth of snow has fallen off the face, triggered by a cornice the size of a combine harvester falling off the ridge”

I am on top of what legendary AK guide Tom Burt calls a bowling ball – a convex slope that rolls out of sight with almost no distinguishing features to orientate yourself. I am trying to hold my nerve as I gather speed towards the abyss but am failing miserably. The slope is turning into an elevator shaft in the 50-degree range and my courage is slipping away as fast as the snow beneath me. I am about to get a serious lesson in commitment. There is no way to stop in terrain this steep, instead you have to know your line well enough to improvise instinctively if things go wrong. The thing that very few people realise is that looking comfortable or even graceful in Alaska means investing a lot of time and money, being patient and humble. I have ventured beyond my comfort zone a few times and been schooled, and this is fast turning into a repeat episode. I am riding into a glacial chute just over a board’s width wide and my novice ‘sluff management’ (the art of avoiding the miniature avalanche created when you turn on steep faces) means that I am being flushed into a bottleneck. Somehow I manage to stay on my feet and bounce out onto the apron below looking for all the world like I meant it. I got lucky. It is a timely reminder of just how good Sam, Ralph and Xavier are and how easy it is to get lured into a false sense of security when you are with them. I make a mental note to stick to the gentle slopes in the 40-degree region.

“The slope is turning into an elevator shaft in the 50-degree range and my courage is slipping away as fast as the snow beneath me. I am about to get a serious lesson in commitment”

We wake late on the fifth morning to find Xavier up and about. His guts are allowing him to eat, and while the sky is milky the wind has dropped. Over the last couple of days, Ralph and Sam have knocked off a few of the smaller lines but have held off anything big, waiting to see if the weather would play ball and allow them access with the paramotors. While the pace of life at camp is gentle, you can feel the atmosphere beginning to change as the prospect of flight becomes a reality. Both De Le Rue and Anthamatten are skilled pilots in their own right. As Xavier said:

“I learned to fly, because I needed to understand the potential and the limitations of paramotors for myself.”

Anthamatten learned to fly for the Svalbard expedition, and by the end of that trip was very confident. Backstrom on the other hand has never flown under any kind of wing and doesn’t have any expectations. The boys had used their down time in Haines productively though: Christophe the pilot had strung the paramotor seat from the rafters and it allowed everyone to drill repeatedly the process of unstrapping, clearing the webbing and stabilizing bar, and then jumping out. It is an incredibly involved process that requires fiddly buckles to be undone through cumbersome gloves. It is one thing to do it a metre off the ground in a shed, something else entirely when you are bouncing along a mountain ridge at 20kmh over a 50 degree face.

The look on Sam’s face when they landed wouldn’t have told you that he had been in any immediate danger. Christophe on the other hand looked slightly more worn by the experience.  The ensuing debrief revealed that it was Sam’s pack that had got caught, so as Christophe reset the wing, Xavier ditched his pack and got in position. Nine days of down time, two days of food poisoning and then straight into action.

Within minutes, the paramotor was airborne and back in position, swooping across the saddle. On the third pass Xavier jumped.

It was inevitable yet unbelievable, almost like it had a fairytale quality to it. Xavier hung for a second in the air, slightly awkward from having to go from a sitting position to a riding position, and then the tail of the board touched down at the point where the bowling ball of the slope rolled away. Using the momentum of the drop, he released all the frustration and uncertainty of the last month into a huge arcing turn onto a spine. Amid the excitement at our camp, even Guido the director, a wonderfully dry and reserved man who has seen it all when it comes to the mountains, was heard to emit a whoop.

“Xavier hung for a second in the air, slightly awkward from having to go from a sitting position to a riding position, and then the tail of the board touched down at the point where the bowling ball of the slope rolled away”

With the seal broken, a wave of relief washed over everyone. The unknown was suddenly familiar, albeit still new, and the tension had gone. In its place was unbridled excitement and a sense of possibility. Sam and Ralph waited for Christophe’s return like kids waiting for a rollercoaster. Sam was next and copied De Le Rue’s feat with his own line. Then it was Ralph’s turn.

The first thing that strikes you about Ralph is his size: he is huge, as wide and as thick as an anvil, emitting strength and power. It is very rare you meet a professional snowboarder with Ralph’s build; these days riders tend to either be light and willowy hang gliders like Nicolas Müller or short and explosive superbikes of the Sven Thorgren mould. But Ralph is neither; in comparison he is a logging truck – he has thighs like steel girders and shoulders like watermelons. It is not a build you would instantly associate with the gift of flight.

Christophe runs through prep and Ralph nervously gets in position. Christophe offers a few words of advice but is for the most part concentrating on his own responsibilities. The wing inflates as they begin take off but Ralph just misses his cue to sit back and, as they leave the ground, Ralph is dangling unceremoniously out of the front of the harness. He is still strapped in so there is no real danger, but it’s a sobering reminder that this is the first time Ralph has ever flown under a wing and he is actually going to try and jump out of it.

“This is the first time Ralph has ever flown under a wing and he is actually going to try and jump out of it”

Unfazed, the process begins again and the second time works perfectly, although you can hear the paramotor’s engine straining under the extra weight. Using the same face, Christophe positions Ralph over a fresh line and like that he jumps, lands and makes it three from three.

Back at camp there is elation. The huge investment of time, money and energy has paid off; no matter what happens now, the basic elements of the film are in the bag. There is a twenty-minute lag as the boy’s tour back across the valley, but I can see Xavier’s smile from half a kilometer away. I had expected celebration or at the very least a rest, but instead Xavier declares they have only just started. This is the difference between Xavier and most normal people – he is never satisfied.

I had to leave that evening; my time with the crew was running out and an incoming storm was undoubtedly going to cut links with camp. But as I packed I watched the team replicating heli drops. Christophe was ferrying each rider out to a shoulder where they could first drop their bags and then pop out on to a plateau ready to climb the peak.

The speed at which the crew were progressing with this new found skill made me think of something Melody Sky, one of Xavier’s business partners at Timeline Productions in Verbier once told me “Xavier is a natural entrepreneur.”

It has since struck me that this is true in both a mental and physical sense. Xavier has got a wonderful lack of ego combined with an open mind and a hunger to progress that means he will consider any and all solutions to the challenges he faces. Both Sam and Ralph have a lot more to give, but with his advancing years (at least in action sports terms) questions are inevitably being asked about Xavier’s legacy. Certainly, there is widespread speculation that this feat could represent his Magnum Opus. I personally hope not. As audacious and defiant as Xavier has been in his pursuit of this goal, it is potentially only the start. He has now collected a skill set and level of experience that could see the limits of big mountain and riding and access completely redefined.

“Xavier has now collected a skill set and level of experience that could see the limits of big mountain and riding and access completely redefined”

“The paramotor offers freedom on a scale big mountain riders have only ever dreamed of”

It won’t happen overnight. The reality, of course, is that you need a very talented and courageous team of people with an incredibly diverse skill set to even think about making this kind of adventure a reality. But people will inevitably follow this example because the only limitations are wind and skill. The economic accessibility offered by using less than a litre of fuel every twenty minutes (as opposed to £2000 a day in a heli), the lack of bureaucracy you face compared with most forms of aviation and the fact that, at just under 40kg, it is incredibly portable, mean that the paramotor offers freedom on a scale big mountain riders have only ever dreamed of.

If you haven’t already, go and watch Degrees North, because as impressive as these photos and tall tales are, seeing is believing and I promise it won’t disappoint.

I am a disciple of the story. I cherish good ones and love telling them. This is one of the best I have, and I know that because for one night in that pizza restaurant, I was the king of the table amongst snowboarding’s most esteemed company.