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I have never ridden in a tank, but I would imagine that trundling up a mountain with 11 ski companions in a Pisten Bully snowcat is infinitely preferable. North American Cat skiing – which always prompts feline jokes - is a little like helicopter skiing, but a good deal slower (the journey to the snow, not the skiing, that is) and considerably cheaper.

Skiers climb into a specially designed cabin which is hitched onto the back of a snowcat (so called originally because it’s a caterpillar-tracked vehicle). Then, slowly but surely, the driver hauls all of you along a variety of “cat-tracks” (roads, this time, not caterpillar tracks) to numerous peaks in succession. At the top, once you have jumped out of the vehicle (waiting for it to stop of course – being flattened and chewed up by such a machine does not bear contemplation), the operation is almost identical to heliskiing: a qualified guide leads you off-piste down major snowfields which eventually give way to forests of fir. Here you’ll plunge on, hooting and hollering your way exuberantly through the trees, floating in the “white smoke” that envelops you as you waft through the powder.

Far from interrupting the deep snow skiing experience, tree skiing, which helps no end with visibility in white-out conditions or freshly falling snow, is considered by many to be the ne plus ultra of back-country adventure – as long as you “go gingerly through the snow ghosts” (trees smothered in frozen snow, ice and rhyme). And with any luck the “cat” will be waiting for you at the bottom to transport you to another exhilarating run. For skiers in a rush who still prefer cat to helicopter, Powder Cowboy – an operation run near Fernie, in British Columbia – has introduced a “Cheetah” programme which uses two snow-cats to serve a group of 12. While one drops the group off, the other is ready and waiting to pick them up at the bottom for the next run. This, says Powder Cowboy, is the “fastest cat-skiing on the planet”.

The operation enthuses that it “combines the legendary powder of Canada’s Rocky Mountains and the wild west culture of the Columbia Valley, with 6,000 acres of ‘awesome’ terrain, equalling the size of many ski resorts. “Imagine your favourite resort covered in deep, dry, untracked powder all for just you and 11 friends. Call today, and saddle up, partner!”

When you think about it, being hauled up to the finest off-piste around in a vehicle designed to groom pistes is a little quirky. Although it takes a lot longer than a helicopter to reach the peaks, not all snowcats, rather like cars (or tanks?) travel at the same speed. At Powder Cowboy, our rookie driver, Ryan Grootveld, was slow, steady, and reliable. Things moved a little faster at the Island Lake Lodge operation - a sister company on the other side of Fernie’s Lizard Range, where Martin, a French Canadian drove with a little more urgency. “Must be the French blood in his veins” suggested one of the masters of the universe in our group.

Certainly the terrain in this part of the world, with the luxurious lodges and fine dining (we enjoyed such delicacies as prawn and crab salad rolled in smoked salmon and finished with lemon crème fraiche and mango coulis drizzle”) along with the gung-ho atmosphere is just like a heliskiing operation – only more relaxed. Instead of fighting to be heard above the roar of a Bell 212’s engines, we could sit back, snack on sandwiches, cookies and hot cider and tell mountain tales. Or you can listen to ipod music played wirelessly through an auxiliary input - “rather like one of the old pirate radio stations”, as someone put it. Laughter comes easily in the back of a cat.

Before you start skiing, there’s the inevitable signing of “waivers” in which you swear in writing that come what may, you will not sue the company in the event of an accident. At Powder Cowboy, this seems slightly more intense than usual. “Do you understand the wording on the form?” asks Brent MacDonald, in his 14th season as lead guide, echoed meaningfully by Owen Day, the “tailgunner” guide who acts as sweeper, mopping up any fallen skiers. “I do” I say earnestly, wondering if someone will add: “You may kiss the guide.”

Should you for any unimaginable reason wish to “sit out” one run (I did on the rare occasion that the group had to “bootpack” up a steep climb to reach a run called Yeti, after being dropped off as high as the cat could get to) it’s quite fun to sit in the passenger seat of the luxuriously warm cab while the driver trundles on down the mountain to the next pick-up point. Getting in is quite tricky – you have to climb onto the metal and rubber cat runners (while it’s stationery, it goes without saying) and somehow get in through the “suicide” door. Once inside, you can enjoy the ride.

Taking pity on me for having missed this glorious run, the group insisted that I go first on the next. It was called Lucky Loonie. Were they trying to tell me something?

On one occasion we shudder to a halt (screeching to a halt would be over-stating it) when a female moose, chewing innocently on a leafy branch, bars our route. Everyone piles out (something you can’t really do in a helicopter) grabbing cameras en route. Everyone that is except fore the silver-haired and moustachioed Peter Morey, who sits and smiles benignly, saying, “I see them all the time in New York City”.

Facts
Arnie Wilson’s visit to Powder Cowboy (www.powdercowboy.com) and Island Lake Lodge (www.islandlakelodge.com) catskiing operations was arranged through www.snowskool.co.uk which also organises ski and snowboard instructor courses in Banff/Lake Louise and Big White ski areas tel +44 (0) 1962 855 138. He flew to Calgary with Air Canada www.aircanada.com which has direct flights to Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver to access western Canada's ski resorts. The local ski resort of Fernie is some 320km (200 miles) from Calgary. Banff is about four hours away.

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