Blog: Risk, Reward, & Reality

Fall Line’s new blogger, Sam Anthamatten, discusses what risk means to him, why freeriding demands honesty, and how his approach to risk has changed.

Sam Anthamatten

• Born: September 1986
• Hometown: Zermatt, Switzerland
• Lowdown: Sam is a professional big mountain skier, Faction and The North Face athlete, mountain guide, and father of two.

As we head into winter, I’m looking at this season with different eyes. The stakes are always changing, and this year is no different. I now have not only my wife but two daughters, Nevia and Gianna, who depend on me. I’m also recovering from an injury sustained on a day when I pushed it too far, and constantly learning how to reconcile my desires as a freerider with my instincts for risk assessment as a mountain guide.

For me, taking a risk means embracing a challenge. It’s about putting myself out into nature and accepting whatever comes my way. When I take on that challenge, I know there’s a certain level of risk I’m willing to accept and that the mountain will give me feedback at every step. It’s very honest and that’s what I love about mountain sports. A mistake is met with a swift lesson, and that’s how you learn.

There are times when I’ve been close to the line and there might be days when we get away with more than we should have, but that’s when you must be honest with yourself. If I can explain the decisions I’ve made to my wife, then I know I’ve made a good choice. Things get most dangerous when we find ourselves trying to make excuses for choices we’ve made on the mountain. My most recent injury was on a day where I didn’t listen to my instincts. I was out filming and I guess I was a little ignorant about the conditions. I ended up catching some ice, tomahawking down the slope, tearing my ACL, my meniscus, and damaging all the cartilage in my knee. It can happen to anyone, but maybe it could have been prevented.

Risk assessment isn’t a static skill, it’s something honed over years, shaped by daily conditions, attitude, and experience. And while it’s impossible to eliminate risk, I know its degree shifts with context. It varies based on fitness, ability, knowledge, and the strength to cope if things go sideways. Using tools like the ‘three by three’ avalanche risk management system helps but, ultimately, it’s something you learn for yourself. There’s a misconception that athletes are charging hard every single day, skiing gnarly lines and pushing boundaries relentlessly. The reality? Ninety percent of my time is spent enjoying the mountains and sharing powder runs with friends. That slim window where we’re pushing the limits happens only when conditions align perfectly. Our jobs depend on patience, on waiting through an entire season for those fleeting opportunities. When you see an athlete take on a wild descent, understand it comes after weeks, or even months, of preparation, training, and biding our time until the mountain is ready.

As a mountain guide, safety always comes first. But, as a freerider, pushing limits is part of the mindset. These two perspectives can clash. At the top of a line, the guide in me might think, I wouldn’t take clients down this. But the athlete in me wants to ski it. My experiences in mountain rescue also play on my mind. I’m constantly reminded of what happens when things go wrong, and although sometimes I wish I could shake that off and approach my riding more freely, it’s a good reminder of what’s at stake.

As I get older though, I’m learning to adapt. I take fewer risks now than I did years ago, but finding a way to keep evolving as an athlete without increasing danger has been difficult. For me, this means broadening my perspective and exploring new ways to challenge myself. Combining my climbing and skiing with paragliding has brought a new layer of creativity that pushes me without pushing recklessness.

The best advice I can offer to those venturing into the mountains? Keep learning. Enroll in courses, spend time with seasoned mountain guides, and ask them to explain their decision-making processes. Absorb as much as you can from those who have been there. In all the sports that I do, I’ve always surrounded myself with people who have more knowledge, watching their approach so I could make better decisions alone.

These days, I enjoy passing knowledge on to younger riders. I was mentored by experienced mountain guides, and now it’s my turn to complete that circle. For me, this is a beautiful sport and its risks are outweighed by the passion it stirs. It’s a privilege to learn these lessons and to live the life these mountains have given me.