The Work: From early November to late May, these snow lords—80 nationwide, employed by the Forest Service, state highway commissions, and ski resorts—wake before dawn and brave the steeps on snowmobiles, skis, or foot in search of suspect conditions. Back in the office, they analyze reams of fresh data on
temperature, wind conditions, and crystal formations and then issue public warnings.
Time Outside: 50-90 percent. "Predicting avalanches is a real art," says Bruce Tremper, 46, director of the Utah Avalanche Forecasting Center in Salt Lake City. "You have to see the snow, touch it, feel it." And because advisories need to be released by 7 a.m., the workday usually wraps up by midafternoon, leaving ample
time to hit the slopes on your own behalf.
Payback: For most, this is strictly seasonal work with a winter paycheck of $10,000-$20,000.
Prerequisites: A graduate degree in meteorology and a thesis on snowslide prediction could earn you one of four year-round director positions with the U.S. Forest Service in Ketchum, Seattle, Boulder, and Salt Lake. Montana State University (406-994-0211; www.montana.edu) is a reputable training ground for avalanche buffs.
Networking: The American Association of Avalanche Professionals (406-587-3830; www.avalanche.org) provides job leads and industry gossip in its monthly newsletter.
Peon to Pro: Ten to 15 years on the winter crew before you'll be considered for U.S. Forest Service avalanche director. "When the snowpack melts in the spring and you grieve as though you've lost a child," says Tremper, "you know you're in past your eyeballs."
Drudge Factor: No kvetching allowed for a job that lets you hike up peaks and ski down! Getting buried in a slide, though, is no joke.
Outlook: Chilly. Competition for the nation's 80 positions is stiff, and though avalanche fatalities continue to rise, funding can be scarce.
The Work: Drag yourself through an adventure race or mountain-bike relay, and you'll think the race organizers have the easy job: What's there to do other than stock the water stations? Yet for sports marketers who organize and oversee hundreds of contests each year, there's no shortage of work—tallying entry
forms, pitching the event to ESPNII, driving front-end loaders through aspen groves to build berms, corralling volunteers, walking the course, even firing the starting gun.
Time Outside: 40 percent. (The balance goes to honing your PR savvy behind a desk.)
Payback: Executive producerscan expect to pocket $55,000-$65,000.
Prerequisites: Unless raking up orange peels is your idea of a career, you'll need to bring computer and marketing skills to the job.
Networking: Start out volunteering at high-profile events such as the High-Tec Adventure Racing Series (818-707-8866; www.mesp.com). And make Detail your middle name: "If you forget the safety pins," says Pat Follet, who organizes mountain-bike races for Team Big
Bear in California, "you could screw up the entire race."
Peon to Pro: Aim for making executive producer—supervising a staff of ten—within five years.
Drudge Factor: Pounding slalom flags into mountainsides with a giant hammer.
Outlook: Promising. With participation in the 1999 Hi-Tec series up 40 percent from last year, look for an expanding race calendar.
The Work: In a word, juggling. At least in the beginning, you'll need to balance a day job to pay the bills, a minimum of 25 hours of training a week, a grueling weekend race schedule, quality face-time with potential sponsors, and sleepless nights agonizing over your decision to abandon a respectable living for
this.
Time Outside: 35-60 percent. You've got to play (and practice) to win.
Payback: If you can break even, you're doing pretty damn well; avoiding debt usually requires deep-pocketed sponsors. Expect to bank $20,000-$30,000 in a good year, unless you're wildly successful (surfing great Kelly Slater boasts career contest earnings of more than $700,000).
Prerequisites: Athletic genes and a high tolerance for prerace jitters will take you only so far. Make sure your competitive streak runs strong and deep. "You have to be more than a gifted athlete," says extreme kayaker Tao Berman, whose world-record 98-foot waterfall drop speaks for itself. "You have to be cutthroat
ambitious."
Networking: Start trouncing the local competition, and then launch a full-scale sponsorship blitz: mass résumé mailings, cold-calling, and chatting up athlete reps.
Peon to Pro: Master your signature move—like Berman's ten-story plunge—and flaunt it shamelessly.
Drudge Factor: Waking up sore before the 42-mile Rage in the Sage bike race after a night in budget accommodations: your tent.
Outlook: Keep sucking up to your day-job boss and scrambling for sponsorship. Competition is fierce.
