Craftsmen begin by selecting resilient pine and birch for the ski's core. The wood is then guided through more than a dozen steps — cutting, soaking, baking to shape the curve, sanding, and polishing. The underside is covered with horse leg hair, arranged in the direction of growth, and bound with cowhide rope. No glue is needed; the finished skis are remarkably sturdy and durable.

The design is simple yet effective. When gliding downhill, the fur lies flat, allowing the skier to move swiftly across the snow. When climbing uphill, the fur grips the surface, preventing the skier from sliding backward.

Tmurjap Hakanberek has been practicing this craft for over five decades. In his lifetime, he has witnessed fur skis undergo a triple transformation: from a practical tool for herders, to a cultural and creative product for tourists, and now to equipment supporting modern public services.

As ice and snow tourism gains popularity across China, visitors flock to the region, eager to experience this ancient form of skiing. But perhaps the most heartwarming chapter of the fur ski story is unfolding in the surrounding mountains.