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The fear-factor that sometimes jangles the nerves of heli-skiers was nothing compared with the anxiety of actually getting to the mountains. With no seat belt to keep me strapped to the red streak of a van which hurtled along at the speed of fright to the remote Turkish village of Ayder, the driver gunning through small coastal towns at 80mph, I could only sense that my knuckles were turning as white as snow in the darkness. I arrived all-of-a-tremble and - in spite of our madcap dash - late for dinner, but received a warm reception, or “hoþgeldiniz” as I believe the Turks spell welcome.

While heliskiing becomes a rarer commodity in the Alps because of environmental concerns, it is reaching some interesting new locations elsewhere in Europe. But this one is clever. Close to Europe, but not of it, the latest location is in the remote and exotic Kaçkar range of north east Turkey, reached via the ancient Anatolian port of Trabzon, the largest port on the Black Sea coast. Among its many attractions is the fact that heliskiers who want to escape what some would view as draconian regulations governing heliskiing operations in the Alps can, as it were, operate ‘outside the law’ dictated by environmental pressures by visiting mountains just outside Europe – without the need to go all the way to Canada, the traditional playground of heliskiers.

The highest local peaks near the heliski base in the village of Ayder are just under 4,000m. The skiing operation covers an area approximately 100km long and some 35km wide. Turkey Heliski is a Swiss operation based in Verbier, using two Ecureuil helicopters from Zermatt with Swiss, French and Italian guides. While the helicopters were being transported to Turkey in the company’s first year “trail run”, one flew into a blizzard and had to make a forced landing on a beach in Greece.

In my experience, few heliski pilots enjoy skiing, but ours, Danni Lerjen, turned out to be a former Swiss ski instructor. The craggy, sun-baked men who take you skiing and even organise your equipment turn out to rather god-like figures. Three of the guides were celebrated climbers who specialise in 8,000 metre peaks: there are only 14 summits in the world in this category – all of them in the Himalayas. One Swiss guide, Erhard Loretan, has climbed them all – only the third man in history to do so. His colleague, Abele Blanc (who showed me how to pack and wear my ABS Avalanche Bag) and is from Italy’s Aosta valley, had only one 8,000-metre to go – Annapurna. He was planning to climb it this year. Another guide, Jean Troillet (half Swiss, half Canadian, who prepared my skis), was the first man to snowboard from very close to the summit of Everest (8400 metres), and had climbed eight 8,000 metre peaks.

Troillet is both passionate and uncompromising about the mountains, and always climbs without oxygen or ropes. “Using oxygen is an insult to the mountain” he says. “It makes any peak feel 2000 metres lower than it really is. So why not just find a mountain that’s 2000 metres lower instead? It’s a different world in the mountains today. It’s all about money now – but it used to be all about climbing. I don’t have the money to go to the Moon or Mars. I can’t afford to go round the earth in orbit with the Russians. So I climb instead. But money isn’t a factor.”

During my visit, we had breakfast at 7am (5am UK time – pretty tough on Day One!) and were skiing by 8am, taking advantage of good early morning conditions. March is a good time to be here. It’s probably warmer than the Alps. However there may even be a “föhn” or “pineapple wind” which is not terribly good for the snow.

After breakfast we were able to put together our own packed lunches – a clever idea which enabled us to choose our own sandwich fillings. The helicopter lands right outside the hotel, and you’re skiing almost before you know it.

I found myself sharing the helicopter with three Swiss. They had even brought their own wines from the shores of Lake Geneva – carefully packed into their ski boots. Two of them (Philipe and René) were young, fast and skilful; the other (Bertrand), more my vintage, skied at more of a leisurely pace. As often as not, I didn’t need my schoolboy French. “Geniale!” said Philippe after one satisfyingly long run. “Une Rêve - c’est cool, ce run!”

There are some 100 runs, with plenty more waiting to be added to the list, and a typical vertical drop of 1000 metres. In good snow months it is possible to ski virtually all the way back to the Hotel Hasimoglu.

Typically we would ski between 20 and 25 thousand feet by lunchtime on runs with vertical drops as much as 3,000 feet or more. Even as early as mid March, there was some magnificent corn snow on south-facing slopes, and on one or two runs we were almost blinded by the intense reflection of the sun from the slopes. Sometimes sand-clouds blew in, turning patches of snow reddy-brown. On one occasion we were fascinated to find the tracks of a bear and a wolf merging. Had they stopped for a pow-wow? Or passed through at different times, thus avoiding a confrontation?

From some peaks we could glimpse the Black Sea and Mount Elbrus, Europe’s highest peak. Unlike most heliskiing operations, Turkey Heliski provides state-of-the-art ABS avalanche airbags. (I had bought my own, but didn’t need it). The idea is that if you hear what you think is an avalanche suddenly releasing behind you, you tug on a toggle which releases what look like two vast water-wings. The technology is designed to keep you on the surface of the avalanche and give you a fighting chance of survival. Life-savers they may be, but it’s yet another thing to remember, along with your transceiver (which sends out an electronic signal to aid searchers if you are buried, or can be switched to search mode if someone else is) gloves, camera and helmet (both optional) and even skis. (I managed to leave my skis by the hotel on Day One! Luckily our guide noticed we were one pair short.) It’s also very important to remember to disconnect the airbag before you get into the helicopter in case it’s accidentally triggered – to put it mildly, pilots don’t like explosive sounds inside the machine. Or even outside. Having been deposited high on a mountain somewhere, it’s also important to re-connect the apparatus before you start skiing! One guest who accidentally triggered his device (during a descent, not in the helicopter) was certainly embarrassed, but the only penalty was having to fork out 20 euros for a new gas canister. When you remember how much it costs to go heliskiing - a mere trifle!

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