Gulmarg: Skiing’s Wild West

Where rules are scarce, the grooming scarcer and the powder is deep.

Published June 2026, words and photos Mandy Lamont

At 4,000 metres, with armed soldiers at your back and the peaks of Pakistan on the horizon, you see things differently. This is Gulmarg, one of the most compelling and overlooked ski destinations on the planet, and the unlikely second home of New Zealander Angus Winstone.

Gulmarg was never part of the plan, but an earthquake, the collapse of a corporate career, and the realisation of what actually matters brought Angus to Kashmir.

Skiing since the age of three, in 2014 with his business finally wound up after the devastation of the 2011 earthquake in Christchurch, he and his wife Virginia decided to go skiing, without any interruptions. Friends joined and trips expanded to Georgia and Armenia and Wild Snow NZ was born, taking groups skiing to exotic destinations. With tensions in Georgia, in 2019 Angus landed in Gulmarg, Kashmir.

Kashmir is one of the most breathtaking and contested regions on earth. Nestled in the western Himalayas, it sits at the intersection of India, Pakistan, and China, a geography that has made it a flashpoint for conflict for decades. Divided since the partition of British India in 1947, the Line of Control that cuts through the mountains is one of the most militarised borders in the world.

Yet Kashmir has been drawing travellers for centuries, seduced by its extraordinary beauty. The Vale of Kashmir, ringed by snow-capped peaks, is lush and fertile, threaded with rivers and dotted with lakes, its saffron fields, walnut groves and apple orchards supplying much of the subcontinent’s finest produce. The people are warm, proud, and deeply hospitable. A culture shaped by centuries of trade, Sufi Islam, and a resilience born of living in a place the rest of the world has long fought over.

For skiers and snowboarders, Gulmarg has become one of the most compelling destinations on the planet. Raw, high-altitude terrain, virtually no crowds by Western resort standards, and a cultural experience that no groomed alpine village can come close to matching.

The Gulmarg Gondola runs in two phases. From the village at 2,650m, a chaotic, colourful jumble of chai, chocolate and sunglass vendors crowding the often icy entrance to the gondola enthusiastically hustling for business. The first phase lifts you through dense pine forests, the Kashmir Valley spreading out below. Most tourists step off at Kongdoori mid-station at 3,080m content with the view, a 20 minute ski lesson on the flats in oversized boots, a sled ride or a lap on a skidoo. The local dhabas (cafés) set up in tents side by side, tempting passing tourists with hot food and kahwa, the sweet Kashmiri tea brewed with cardamom and cinnamon, finished with saffron and crushed almonds. There is even a small mosque, the call to prayer ringing out through the thin mountain air. But phase two is where things get real.

As the gondola climbs above the treeline into raw Himalayan terrain, the mountain reveals its steep exposed ridgelines. This is the most intimidating terrain that I have ever skied. The scale is humbling and every ride up phase two, my stomach is in my mouth, silencing the part of me that thought I was ready for this.

Topping out near Apharwat Peak at just under 4,000 metres. This is the terrain that draws skiers and snowboarders. At the summit, armed Indian Army soldiers man a base. An unmistakable reminder of where you are. Just beyond, the peaks of Pakistan are visible on a clear day. It’s choose your own adventure double black diamond to get back down. Thankfully we have our trusty guide Musha, who knows the mountain like the back of his hand.

The government-run resort of Gulmarg has more interest in scenic gondola rides than developing a skiing industry, and systemic corruption runs through every layer of operations. Just buying a gondola ticket as a foreigner is an exercise in how the system works, or doesn’t, patience is not optional.

When Angus arrived in Gulmarg there was no ski repair infrastructure or workshops. Bindings were held on with screws driven straight through the base, and broken skis were fixed with household epoxy. Locals were skiing on gear left behind by tourists, and some K2 powder skis brought over by a New Zealander twenty years prior.

“It’s like New Zealand in the 1940s,” Angus tells me. “People who are absolutely passionate about skiing, just cobbling it together with whatever they can find.”

It was in this setting that Angus met Musha, the region’s lead heli guide. Canadian avalanche-trained, and world-class powder skier, and they clicked instantly. Musha had recently decided to go out on his own, and it wasn’t long before they decided to go into business together. Then Angus had a bigger idea. ‘You can’t keep guiding at this level for the rest of your life,’ he told Musha, ‘We’re going to expand this and start making ski wax!’

Born purely out of necessity when Angus was unable to find any ski wax in India. But with a classic Kiwi attitude, he thought if he can’t get it, he’ll make it. So he set up a double boiler in the back of a dhaba, ordered the materials, and started cooking. Virginia researched the formulas. “The locals thought I was making soup”, Angus laughs.

When ski shops started asking where they could get it, he thought, ‘this might be something’. The first batch sold out immediately, and when people started stealing it, he loved it. It meant that there was a real demand.

Handcrafted using natural, locally sourced Himalayan ingredients and free from forever chemicals. What was intended to be a local cottage industry has grown into something larger. Three years on, Sheen Wax is selling on Amazon and is currently going through a delicate expansion phase. A substantial order recently came in from Russia, driven by Western sanctions wiping ski wax from Russian shelves.

Production is run by Shakeela, a woman from Musha’s village, Kilwara. Women traditionally make pashminas, but Shakeela now earns more in two weeks making wax than the pashminas pay in a year. The challenge though, as production ramps up, is infrastructure. The small village outside Tangmarg gets power for only a few hours a day. So, much of the profits of this order will go towards buying equipment and a generator to power the operation, as much as Angus would love to buy them a new house.

Angus wants to see the ski industry blossom in Gulmarg, “Sustainability is profitability.” He says. “If something is profitable, you’ll do it forever. If it’s subsidised, it’ll last only as long as the subsidy.” It’s not a complicated philosophy.

Making a real difference, Angus gets more pride out of making 100,000 rps (less than $2,000) than $100,000. With commodity trading, nobody’s life is really affected. With this, it’s tangible, you can see it when you change someone’s life.”

The success of the wax spurred Angus to open a ski workshop in the village. Musha travelled to New Zealand to train in high-end ski workshops, drawing on Angus’s industry connections, and when Musha returned, a container of ex-rental skis and workshop machinery followed.

Angus has been training young local, Raj, as a ski technician in the work shop. “I’ve literally sat there with him and smashed open a pair of skis just to look at the construction,” Angus tells me. The long game is ski manufacturing but it’s a long way off. In New Zealand, you’d spend a decade in the industry before having the knowhow to make skis.

Wild Snow has a rental shop in Tangmarg, with a 3D printer on hand to produce binding parts on demand. A franchise-style rental model is also taking shape, with local partners in the nearby towns of Sonmarg, Dudpathri and Pahalgam. They will all have properly maintained gear, correct boot sizing, helmets that actually fit and the skis will return to the workshop each season for a full service. But in India, nothing is smooth sailing and security issues meant the new locations didn’t open this past winter.

Going forward, Wild Snow NZ will keep running tours in Gulmarg and across Kashmir’s wider ski area, with more time built into the itinerary for village life, a highlight of my trip. When I decided to go to Kashmir, I wasn’t just going on a skiing trip, I was looking for a cultural experience.

What I found exceeded my expectations. Welcomed with warmth, hospitality, and an endearing hug from the women we visited in their homes in the village, and obligatory photo. Offered endless cups of kahwa, cake and biscuits. Through the language barrier came the warmth of the Kashmiris. Much like the kangri, a centuries-old small clay pot filled with embers carried inside a wicker basket, tucked under the Kashmiri blanket covering my lap as we sit on the floor to share a lunch of mutton, vegetables and rice. A people who have lived under the weight of geopolitical tension for generations, and yet open their door to a complete stranger.

These are simple lives, unhurried and uncluttered by the noise of the western world. The traditional role of women as homemakers is deeply respected and culturally reinforced. Tending the home, raising the family and growing the vegetables that feed them. A stark contrast to western lives where double income families are the norm, not necessarily by choice. Sitting on the floor, warm under the blanket, I wasn’t entirely sure who had it right.

In Gulmarg, Angus stands out. Apart from being a 6ft westerner, he has celebrity status. As he walks through town, local ski vendors want to talk to him about the problems with their skis, offer him tea, and have a chat. It’s how business is done in Kashmir, over cups of kahwa. The respect the locals have for him is obvious and unspoken, evidence of what he is building here. He is making a real difference.

My last night, sitting on the deck of a houseboat on Dal Lake in Srinagar that has welcomed guests for over 100 years. Reflecting on my trip as the lights reflect in the still water around me. Kashmir is a place of contradictions, breathtaking beauty and deep complexity, warmth and tension existing side by side.

I left Kashmir full of tea, cake, an incredible skiing and cultural experience and some locally made ski wax. The warmth of Kashmiri hospitality is bottomless, my cup is full.

sheenwax.com      wildsnow.co.nz

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