On the flight back to Hong Kong from Urumqi, snow seems to cling to everything. Out of the window, the Tianshan mountains rise in pale ridges, their peaks catching the late-winter’s light. Our thoughts drift back across six days in Xinjiang, where we skied in temperatures as low as -18°C and crossed frozen fields in pursuit of a story that reaches far beyond the modern piste.
Altay, in northern Xinjiang, is the snowiest part of the Chinese Mainland, drawing skiers and snowboarders to a winter season that runs from November to April. This is the purported birthplace of skiing – a claim supported by ancient rock art, oral tradition and the enduring craft of horsehide skis.

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung
The claim rests on a discovery made in 2005, when archaeologists identified a skiing scene among the petroglyphs inside Dundebulak Cave. Estimated to be over 10,000 years old, the pictograph is regarded as the earliest known record of human skiing.
A short flight from Urumqi brings us to Altay, an easy-going city that serves as a gateway to the surrounding slopes. At Jiangjunshan International Ski Resort, we meet Yang Fan, a skiwear salesperson spending the winter on a working holiday after discovering the region the previous season.

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung
“I find Altay absolutely dreamlike,” Yang says. “Whenever I have spare time, I’m on the slopes.”
Just 10 minutes from downtown, Jiangjunshan is an urban ski resort with more than a dozen runs for different levels, with broad slopes and fluffy snow. Riding a chairlift, we strike up a conversation with a man surnamed Li from Anhui, who has returned after skiing here earlier in the season. “Altay’s snow quality is far superior to many other ski resorts in northeastern China,” he says.
At the 1,325m summit, advanced skiers tackle the Fo Guang, or Light of Buddha, run, earning a badge for their efforts. We gravitate to Yin Guang, or Silver Light, a 3km intermediate piste stretching from summit to base. The opening section winds steeply, delivering a succession of thrills before easing into gentler terrain where we trace graceful, flowing arcs.
Beside the slopes, a giant sign reads: “The birthplace of human skiing”. The words stay with us as we visit the Museum of the Origin of Skiing, where a recreation of the Dundebulak rock paintings shows figures standing on long boards, wooden poles in hand, moving across the snow in pursuit of prey. It’s surreal to think that, tens of thousands of years later, we’re following those ancient tracks.

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung
For Altay’s early inhabitants, skiing grew from survival – fur-covered skis helped hunters move across deep snow. In Nuogaite Village on the edge of the city, we visit the workshop of Slanbek Shahash, a fourth-generation maker of traditional horsehide skis, whose craft is inscribed as part of the Chinese Mainland’s intangible cultural heritage.
Inside his showroom, handmade skis cover the walls. His daughter-in-law Gulinazi explains how they’re fashioned from red pine or white birch, with cowhide used for straps and horsehide attached underneath. “The hair on this part grows in the same direction, which allows the skis to slide faster downhill while providing grip when climbing,” she explains, adding: “This is ancient wisdom.”
Visitors can make horsehide souvenirs in the workshop, but we’re more eager to try the skis for ourselves. A local guide takes us to a nearby snowfield, where we strap on the skis and begin climbing with poles. The furry undersides grip well, making the ascent easier than expected. Descending is another story.
“Remember to hold onto your poles and drag them beside you as you go,” shouts our guide. We try, but veer off course and careen downward in a wobbly rush. “We pick this up as children,” he says, laughing. He competes in a fur-skiing competition held each year in Jiangjunshan to mark the origin of human skiing. Watching him, those petroglyphs begin to feel close again.

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung
Back in Altay, we spend time exploring markets and sampling specialities. We tuck into everything from lamb pilaf and spiced chicken to kebabs, roasted beef marrow, baursak (fried dough) and milk-skin craft beer.
On our final day, we return to Jiangjunshan and ski until dusk. We stand on the summit, observing the profound beauty of the sun’s gold melting into the silver-white ranges. Below us, music rises from an après-ski gathering as young skiers dance in the evening cold. “If happiness has a sound, you’ll hear it on the Altay mountains!” the DJ calls out.
Alpine life may have changed dramatically, from our ancestors struggling against blizzards to today’s wintry frolics. Perhaps the only thing that remains unchanged is this dazzling expanse beneath our feet, and the possibilities that it still holds.
Fly direct from Hong Kong to Urumqi, followed by a 90-minute domestic flight to Altay. Alternatively, driving takes around five hours.

Credit: Elvis Chung

Credit: Elvis Chung
UrCove by Hyatt Altay is a 10-minute drive from Jiangjunshan. Its lobby has storage for ski equipment, while spacious rooms feature humidifiers and smart home systems. With restaurants, a gym and laundry facilities on site, it’s ideal for a ski-focused stay.
In Urumqi, Hilton Urumqi offers a polished base next to the Xinjiang International Convention and Exhibition Center. The hotel has contemporary rooms, en suite bathtubs, a heated indoor pool and a well-equipped fitness centre, along with Xinjiang and international cuisine in its restaurants.