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"You have to wait late enough in the spring for the snowpack to settle so that it's not avalanche-prone anymore," said Bill Glude, local heli-skier/snowboarder and avalanche specialist.

"Usually there's maybe a three-week window during which conditions are optimal."

Conditions were all lined up last weekend for the annual Sheep Mountain helicopter trip organized by Glude. He has been arranging these trips for the last eight years and does it for free because he likes giving his friends the chance to have fun on the mountain.

Besides assessing the conditions and weather for the right weekend, Glude reserves the helicopter, contacts skiers and snowboarders, arranges the details and, once on the mountain, points out how to get down to Perseverance Trail, where everyone hikes out.

This was my fifth heli-trip up Sheep Mountain. My daughter Haley went with me this year for her first back country trip by helicopter. She's 14 and a skier-snowboarder since she was five. She rides black diamonds and hikes the ridge at Eaglecrest and knows how to negotiate the mountain comfortably, even in sticky situations. I knew she was ready to go one step further outside the boundaries of the ski area.

We arrived at the Coastal heliport shortly before 9 a.m. and faced a crowd of people lining up in front, the largest group to show up yet. Eventually it took 12 loads and four hours to get everyone on top, but by early afternoon we were doing runs down the rounded slopes of Sheep Mountain, hiking back up and doing more down the other side. Picnic lunches and sunscreen were plentiful. Beacons, shovels and probes were also onboard, bottled water a must.

"Most of the people who go are pretty hardcore skiers and boarders," Glude said. "The upper part of Sheep Mountain is gentle, but the lower part does have steep, narrow gullies that are rimmed with rocks and have some hazards like open cracks, some of which drop through into the stream. It does take a fairly skilled confident person to go up there."

Haley and I were on the first and third loads, respectively. She rode with Bill and a few other experienced skier-riders and helped on top unloading the gear before the helicopter took off to go get the others. The rest of us had driven to the pull-off at Sheep Creek because it's closer to the mountain and saves flying time.

My group assembled - six of us - in the grass near the shore. We had our packs and boards and skis and the clothes we were wearing. I carried my camera with a pen and notebook.

The bird hovered and landed in front our crouched bodies. We loaded the gear into the cage while the still-spinning rotors pushed the wind and spit rocks and sand in all directions. People on the periphery hid their faces in their hands and coats. The helicopter lifted and dipped and in minutes we were flying up Sheep Creek valley, alongside the green mountainside, coming up to rocks and tundra. The pilot spotted a goat and pointed it out to us over the headsets. Approaching the top of Sheep Mountain, only five minutes into the flight, the rounded crest looked good enough to eat.

Getting closer we saw Bill squatting, looking up and guiding the bird in. We touch down, the door sprung open and we all piled out quickly, opening the cage and unloading the gear in bucket-brigade style before ducking down again and waiting for the bird to fly off. The noise is deafening, but the silence that follows is worth it.

Looking out in the distance, the icefield on one side and the islands and waterways on the other, you realize that you didn't just land in the middle of nowhere, but in the middle of everywhere.

Haley greeted me, smiling and enjoying her independence. She described leaving the heliport and flying along Gastineau Channel, past town and past the avalanche zone she'd studied for a fifth-grade project.

We put our gear near some rocks and made a little nest for ourselves, then put on our boards for a first run down the mountain.

We headed off the east face, opposite Clark Peak. There were already a few tracks before ours, but not many. It was wide open, untouched. I went first to lead the way and carved an awesome line over some rollers. Long, winding and fast, like surfing a 600-foot wave. Haley followed, taking it at a comfortable pace. At the saddle where we stopped she told me her number on the mood meter was nine.

Our second run ended at a band of rocks with a stream of melted snow running through it. Some other friends arrived and we all sat for awhile enjoying the immense scenery.

We had to get back to town early, so Haley and I took our final run down the west side and north through a series of canyons and gullies, past waterfalls and streams, until we reached the platform at Silverbow Basin at the end of Perseverance Trail. We changed into our shorts and sandals and trekked out with our boards on our backs. Hikers on the trail wanted to know where we'd been and Haley proudly announced we'd snowboarded down from Sheep Mountain.

Next year Glude said he might have to limit how many people can go if the number approaches or exceeds the 72 who showed up this year. He doesn't do it for the glory or the money he said. "I just like being the facilitator for people having a great time. I think that's a good thing for everyone. It's a good thing for the community. I benefit as I live in a community of happier people," he said.