Nina Silitch and I sat upstairs in her home office in Chamonix silently filling out a stack of race forms.
She translated the French words I didn't understand, and in turn I handed her a stack of Euro so she
could write the checks. This was our second year of ski mountaineer racing in Europe, and we had
chosen the races in which we wanted to compete for the entire season and decided to complete all the
applications in one fail swoop. Some of the more popular races fill up quickly and had a selection
process, so we needed to get our applications in early. Money, license, insurance, and doctor's
certificate were required with each registration packet. A few required previous race and or
mountaineering experience. We were careful to write legibly and in the proper language.When
finished, if accepted, we stood ready to race the Tete de Baum, the TSF Millet, The World
Championships, The Pierra Menta, and the Patrouilles des Glaciers. There would be others that we
would do last minute through the season, but these would form the bulk of our winter.
Ski mountaineering is extremely popular in Europe- the Alps especially. The sport was born based on
the traditions of the army men patrolling the Alps and the internal races held to boost moral. Most
traditional races take 3-4 hours to complete, involving two to three climbs and descents most times off
piste. Racers switch over to ski mode, or climbing mode in designated areas called transitions, a racers
ability to complete efficient transitions can win or lose a race. Some larger races require harness and
crampons and can last 8-12 hours with racers competing through the night. To participate is a serious
undertaking requiring mountaineering skills and gear intensive. Nina and I had taken the plunge last
year traveling to a little shop called Fiou Sports in Aosta, Italy specializing in ski mountaineering gear.
Lightweight skis, boots, poles, backpacks, you name it, they've got it. Small skins that you can rip off
in seconds and of course the fancy spandex one piece to compete in and look the part. Most of these
racers are born into ski alpinism as youths competing for their local alpine clubs. Nina had raced
smaller uphill races with her husband, UIAGM guide Michael Silitch in previous years, but we decided
we wanted to really get involved and do some of the big classic races. The first year we had a few
growing pains, but this year we were ready, and could now officially race for the United States thanks
to coach Pete Swenson. Originally a racer himself, Pete has now stepped back and started a series of ski
mountaineering races in the U.S. hoping to get more people involved. You can read all about our
American brethren and our competitions in the U.S. at www.ussma.org.
Our first race we woke early, 5am early to drive to the start. The Tete de Baum was a local race, only
20 minutes away in Trient, Switzerland. We got dressed quickly and pinned on our bibs before having
to board the bus that would take us to the start. Sometimes directions are lost in translation. Some
volunteers said bib on left leg, others said right. We chose left, and we were wrong. Volunteers smile
patiently at us and then glanced at each other. As the only Americans racing we often were treated like
small children who were not quite sure what was going on.
This race was in teams of three in honor of the grail of all ski mountaineering races to be held later in
the year, the Patrouilles des Glaciers. These early races would allow teams to practice and prepare
racing with all three competitors for the main event. Unfortunately our third, Tara Jeffries, could not
race with us as she had to remain in Cervinia, Italy, and work during the mad rush of the Christmas
holidays. Instead we raced with a former co-worker and friend of Nina's from Switzerland, Tracey
Wright. Both had worked at Aiglon College in Villars. Tracey races for the United Kingdom Ski
Mountaineering team, and is a strong uphill climber. Dawn started to break in Trient and we arrived at
the Tete Noir an hour before start time to a small hamlet filled with cows, mazots, and not much else.
We put skins on and skated around to keep warm and checked out our competition. Looking again at
the course map it seemed simple, two climbs followed by two descents roughly the same in elevation
gain, around eight hundred meters. Finally, half frozen, we were off in a chaotic start along a narrow
path.
Nina did well to lead the way in the mess of frantic poles, tree branches, and skis, I was in the middle,
and Tracey last. No rope was needed for this course as we were not crossing glacier, so to stay together
was a challenge. The race was about 5000 feet of uphill over 8 miles. We zig zagged with a few other
female teams through a narrow path in the forest, gaining elevation quickly, the heavy snowfall making
the going a little tough. Racers who got off course ended fighting deep snow. The wind was cold up at
the second and higher of the two summits, the Tete de Baum, but the view of the Chamonix Valley was
incredible. The final downhill was through a narrow couloir filled with powder and a few hidden fallen
trees. We descended carefully but with happy smiles the last 4500 feet. This was fun and it was a
powder day! The last bit was an uphill skate to the finish with cowbell ringing, cheering spectators
screaming “ALLEZ!” as though we were playing in the Super Bowl. Volunteers congratulated us in
both French and Swiss German. Thank goodness for Tracey, behind me the whole way, cheering
sincerely in her perfect teacher voice helping me up each climb. After recovering for a minute, we
joined the general milling about at the finish imbibing tea, chocolate and other treats, followed by a
mass exodus to a meeting hall in a nearby town where all shared a meal. The Swiss women's teams
had taken first and second place. We mulled over our 5th place finish while we ate our generic pasta,
happy with our start to the season.
Next on the docket was the TSF Millet, short for Tournette Sources du Fier, a two day event held in
early February. This event was very technical held completely off piste away from any ski areas. Done
in teams of two, it took place in Aravis and Faverges, not from from Albertville. Stage one heralded
about 7000 feet of uphill, most gained on the first climb, followed by a traverse along a rocky edge
requiring crampons and clipping into a fixed line, ending with a massive descent through varied terrain.
This was not going to be easy, to date we had not done such a long climb, and to follow it up with an
even harder day would test our ability.
The start was flat, a cross country start in which Nina excelled. I did my best to keep up and soon we
were in a rhythm and time flew by. We made it to the top of the first climb prepared to put skis on
packs with helmets and crampons on. In our efficiency in transition, we passed a team of women as we
began the boot section, (also referred to as bootpack). We quickly clipped into the fixed ropes with
slings and carabiners that we had already attached to the center loop of our harnesses. This section was
the real deal requiring front pointing with the crampons, and scrambling over rocks and through
narrow passageways. Care had to be taken and an overzealous male racer failed to place his crampon
properly, slipped, and kindly left an imprint of his crampon in Nina's thigh. As we neared the top of the
rocky ridge we could hear an accordion playing. An elderly man sitting by the summit cross had
skinned up in the dark early that morning to serenade us. They are my favorite, the crosses dotted
across European summits placed up high with care by the local mountain guides.
The volunteers and spectators peaked their heads over the rocks as we struggled up the last bit, greeting
us with, “Ah les filles, la premier,” or, “Ah, finally, the first women.” Nina and I simultaneously looked
behind us - surely they were not talking to us? Were we winning? WE WERE WINNING! The orange
and black suits of the second place team came into view not far behind and we picked up the pace. The
last climb to the summit of the Tournette was short, and one of the women passed us just near the final
transition into the downhill. We ripped skins and prepared for the descent allowing ourselves a slight
hope because we knew something they didn't- we unlike many of these racers, could ski. The downhill
was long and gnarly, passing through a steep, narrow ravine full of moguls. This was our kinda course,
one long up hill, and then one long descent. We skied in sync down the 7000 feet and crossed the finish
in first place. The feeling was amazing! To hear our names read first, and being interviewed by the
director of the course made all the previous less that perfect race experiences fade away. We were
finally figuring this whole ski mountaineering thing out!
Back at the hotel it was imperative that we rest and recover. Long showers alternating hot and cold to
accelerate the removal of lactic acid, stretching, and recovery drinks were imperative. We attended the
race briefing for the next day- it was definitely more of an uphill racer's course. 7500 feet of uphill, and
only a few short descents. The last descent ended high on the mountain at a refuge, we would lose our
ability to make up time with a long descent. Part of the race fee included a thirty minute massage. This
was interesting as it was in an open room with close to twenty tables occupied by both men and
women. All the female racers must have gotten the memo to wear short-briefs. Nina and I did not
receive said memo, but we survived and no one seemed to notice. Note to self, next time, wear shorts.
The next morning I felt like we had a target on our backs. Women were giving us the once over and
positioning themselves next to us. The second place team was only about five and a half minutes back,
so we would have to be careful, it was no means a definitive lead. “I think I liked it better when no one
knew who we were.” I said to Nina. She just smiled. Nerves of steel that woman.
We were off with a gunshot to the tune of French alp horns. Close to the top of the first ascent, the
second place team passed us moving quickly together. I was feeling a little sluggish and nervous for the
technical section to come. It was a very long, exposed ridge along the ridge to the summit of Le
Charvin. We clipped into the lines and hiked along, the pace controlled by racers ahead of us. Falling
would mean grave consequences and to be certain of safety guides sat on course to be certain racers
were clipping into the ropes.
While walking carefully down a small descent, the man ahead of me jumped down suddenly jerking the
line with him. I flew forward, jerked by the rope, catching myself on the rock while watching my ski
slid out of the hook on my pack and hurl itself down the slope towards Lac du Annecy. “Ski, ski, ski!” I
yelled. Miraculously Nina was a few racers ahead of me on the line. She heard my cries and caught the
ski just in time. “I got it!” She screamed and unhooked from the line and ran into transition. We made
up a little time on the downhill, enough to keep the leaders in sight. I figured that had to be my glitch
for the race.
The next section took us into the shade of the peak, the snow was cold and very icy. My skins were
starting to fail and loose their stick. I switched them quickly and continued on, most racers carry an
extra pair in their suit next to their body to keep them warm and pliable. The third place team grew
closer, but we maintained position through the next transition and descent. The last climb loomed large,
2000 feet passing through the final finish area which is always a heartbreak. The crowds cheered us on,
including all the men who had already finished. HOW they are that fast I have no idea. I was not
feeling well, dehydrated and hungry so I squirreled my last pack of Shock Bloks in my cheeks lacking
energy to chew.
Close to the top I had a second wind and started making up time, but lost yet another skin. Nina was
way ahead waiting for me at transition. Frozen, the skin came off completely and I had no choice but
to take the skis off and hike straight up in the waist deep snow. Third place passed us. I was in despair,
how could I have messed this up so badly! Skis on packs, we crossed the final ridge and tucked the last
descent. It was not easy, filled with chunks of frozen snow and patches of ice. We crossed third, but in
second place overall to the French-New Zealand combo Fabienne Sestier-Carlin and Jane Harper.
There is nothing worse than the feeling you lost the race, but it was an incredible course, successfully
achieving the directors goal of being a old school technical race, and still our best finish to date.
Although disappointed, at least we now knew we were capable of great things. Standing on the podium
was a rush, answering why we lost first place was not, but Nina handled it gracefully simply saying,
“we had a problem with the skins.” We received one avalanche beacon as a prize. Typical French, the
men got two of everything, the females, one. I guess we can share it! The two day race was good
preparation for out next challenges, The World Championships, and the four day Pierra Menta, the
Tour de France of ski mountaineering.
The World Championships of the ski mountaineering world are held every two years. This year they
took place in Champery, in the Port de Soleil of Switzerland, only about an hour and a half drive from
Chamonix the last week of February. Some twenty seven countries would be participating, from
Scandinavia to South America, and as far away as China and Japan. Greece was even represented.
Nina and I arrived in the morning and drove straight to the center of action, excited to meet our
American teammates. Her family had come over for the big event, and we were actually going to have
a team! Our crew, coached by fearless leader Pete Swensen and managed by Dawn French would be
represented by myself, Nina Silitch, and endurance athlete Monique Merril. Our men included Brandon
French , Brian Wickhauser, Scott Clodiron, Steve Romeo, Carey Smith, Ethan Passant, Todd Glew,
Zahan Billmoria, and Chris Kroger. Some of our team had been to the previous World Championships
in Italy, it was good to have some veteran racers. After gear check-in, we moved into our hotel rooms
which were attached to the conference hall. Not only convenient, but a great way to meet other teams
and get last minute advice. Our first glitch occurred when we were all informed that most of us did not
have international licenses. Fortunately we had Zahan, Swiss-French born he could talk the talk and
helped us sort out applying for new ones immediately. Zahan was a great ambassador, soon he had
Swiss officials asking him for assistance with translations and was even interviewed by Swiss
television and radio. The question? Why is the United States so slow in the sport of Ski
Mountaineering? While it sounded offensive, the public really just wanted to know why a nation of
such athletes was so weak in the sport.
We conferenced as a team to find the best answer. Zahan was fabulous and explained that we are a
large country and not everyone has access to the mountains like in the alps, and many children start
early as espoirs (youths) in their local alpine clubs, a luxury we don't have. In addition, the sport of ski
touring is more popular in Europe with all the best gear and local support. He explained we are trying
to get more people involved back home, and that we do have some great races, but they are completely
different. Held at much higher altitudes, the weather is twice as cold and there is always more snow on
course to contend with. Adding to the challenge he explained we function on limited funding and often
race costs come out of pocket.
Each evening at seven heralded a community dinner and a race briefing held in three languages. Often
there was always room for some sort of interpretation of a course line or regulation. Courses were
changed daily due to dry weather conditions so it was important to pay attention. The first day was the
short individual course. Unfortunately, Nina fell sick the first day of competition with strep throat. Six
of us raced, Myself, Carey, Brandon, Ethan, Chris, and Monique. It was the best individual race I have
ever done. With a small U.S. flag on my backpack I raced to cheers of “Go, go, go, USA,” and coaches
and fans running along side of me, giving me advice. “Here, you are tired, you must skate, like this...”
My teammates were the most inspiring by managing to be everywhere at all times. Both our men and
women finished well, right around the middle of the pack with France's Florient Perrier taking the gold
for men, and Italy's Roberta Padrenzi for the women.
Next up, the night relay. We had one male team of four racers, each would complete two laps of the
course for a total of eight laps. Held under the lights, racers began with a fast climb, a short bootpack
with skis on pack, another quick climb with the skins, and then a quick descent to the bottom to do it all
again. The bottom transition was chaos as was the tag between team members at the finish of each leg
allowing for great spectating and cheering. If you got bored of cheering just plain “go go go” you could
switch languages throwing out an “Allez!,” or “Venga, Venga!” or even bust out with an Italian
“FORZA!” The course was rutted due to high traffic and got faster and scarier as the night wore on.
The Swiss women won the event, beating out the Italians for a huge upset, while the Italian men took
gold.
After a quick twelve hour turn around, the U.S. men prepared for the team event. We had four male
teams of two racers participating and the rest of us would be the cheerleaders- I was very excited to
cheer and NOT race, bring on the cowbells. It was almost (not quite) more fun taking photos and
running along side racers shouting encouragement. Leading the men's teams for the U.S. was Ethan
Passant and Carey Smith placing While our guys may not have been the fastest up, they were definitely
some of the most technically sound on the way down. Again, the French duo of master Florient Perrier
and Alexander Pellicier took home gold for men, and Italian Francesca Martinelli and Roberta
Pedranzini won for the women.
The next day was a rest day in Champrey. We slept in and made use of our ski passes, heading up for a
short ski. The Port du Soliel covers a vast area and you can ski for hours, traveling miles across the
alps, through small villages and country borders, returning via bus and or train. Other members of the
team went for a hike and skied a cool line near the Dent du Geant. After a few mediocre runs, we came
down to prepare gear for the uphill race the following day. Zahan did some smooth talking at the ski
shop and soon we had our skis tuned, waxed, and ready to roll. We also waxed skins for the uphill,
something I had never tried. It was done to speed the glide up hill, but also made things a bit more
slippery. The uphill race was all about weight, and racers had specially altered gear. Boots with holes
punched out resembling Swiss cheese, parts of buckles removed, carbon poles, and shortened skins.
Everything had to be inspected by officials before race day. Close to three thousand feet of straight
vertical, the uphill defined pain and to make matters worse it was very hot. The men finished strong
with Brian Wickhauser out front, and Monique on top for the women placing a solid 21st. Florient, the
French master, won yet again, with Roberta taking home her third gold for Italy.
The last day of competition was the individual long course covering roughly 10,000 feet of uphill. I
woke up ill, so Monique carried the U.S. women, and Brendon, Carey, Brian, and Ethan raced for the
men. Conditions were terrible, the course veiled in fog and racers dealt with both rain and sleet.
Brendon finished a strong 28th for US men, and 20th place for Monique. Guido Giacomelli upset
Florient Perrier for the lead and Francesca Martinelli won for women giving the Italians a pair of golds
to finish off their victory the championships.
We didn't bring home any hardware, but we had a blast as a team and met some pretty cool people from
all around the world. We said our goodbyes having grown fond of our Spanish neighbors, and promised
to rendezvous in Andorra in 2010 for the next World Championships. It was sad to leave our small U.S.
headquarters but fortunately our new friends came over to spend a few days with us in Chamonix, and
a few even promised to come over for the Pierra Menta next year. For a full report on the weeks events
and a list of all results, check out Steve's site TetonAT, http://www.tetonat.com/?m=200802&paged=2.
9800 meters of uphill over four days of racing. I stared wide-eyed at the profile of the Pierra Menta.
Thank God this was a team event. My partner, Nina Silitch and I sat at the pre-race briefing and began
to feel the nervous butterflies. Big ones. Maybe more like bats or small sparrows. We stood in line as
they inspected gear and taped electronic timing DAG timing system chips to each ski. 21 female teams
had signed up this year, a record number for women, and 150 male teams. Looking at the competition,
the teams were very strong, stronger than at he World Cup. Nina was coming back from a nasty strep
throat-car accident-strep relapse combo, and I was just plain scared, but thankfully so was everyone
else. Our goal? Simply to finish the famous race as the first U.S. women's team and do the best that our
bodies allowed.
Saturday dawned sunny and warm. It was day three, the famous stage of the Grand Mont. A beautiful
course complete with an exposed arete and 3000 people waiting to sing your praises at the summit. The
weather was good, but we were tired and maybe wondering a bit how our bodies would react to the
2700 meter stage. We had never tested ourselves this way. Thursday, day one, seemed like years ago.
2450 meters, it was a “mellower” stage changed due to avalanche danger. Friday, day two, had gone
well. The longest of the stages at 2980 meters it was very technical. Adding insult to injury the last
climb was up a tree filled gully with slightly iso-thermic snow. Skins were failing, people were falling
and the sun was hot. After three false summits we were VERY ready for the finish. We had watched as
one female team we were closely following lost a ski during a transition. Placed on an uneven surface,
the ski flew off the ridge down hundreds of meters. Our friend, Fabienne sat down and cried, and we
touched her on the shoulder as we moved on. “Its okay,” said her teammate Jane. “We can have a rest
now.” After that Nina and I just wanted to complete the stage, all gear in tact. Thanks to snow the day
before the start of the race most all the descents (minus one ice death slide reminiscent of skiing at
Buck Hill in Minnesota) were in great condition. We both grew up ski racing, so the downhill was a
relief and where we made up lost time.
The start that morning as usual was unexpected with no warning. The tape dropped allowing all the
categories to blend together and chaos ensued. “Watch your poles, keep them by your sides, get a good
rhythm.” Nina is always the voice of reason calmly reminding me of proper technique, when its time to
eat, and setting the right pace. We turned the corner after a long flat cross country section and my heart
dropped as we saw the steep climb. It was a wall of ice with competitors picking their line kick-turning
their way up the slope, tiny dots in the distance. Extremely technical with everyone fighting for a their
place, it was the most challenging of the ascents. This is after all the Pierra Menta, and ArechesBeaufort, France, the cradle of the ski mountaineering world. Nothing about this race was easy. We
heard a loud shout and someone lost a ski, I tried to stop it, but it went flying down the slope. A quick
check ensued that our bindings were secure. Closer to the top the terrain mellowed out, the 1100 meters
gained quickly by the steep slope. We were surprised to find we are pretty good at kick turns after
about one hundred or so. One final crossing over avalanche debris to the summit. Nina lost her footing
and started to slide, another competitor grabbed her pack, his team-mate planted his pole under her
skis. A reminder that this is a race, but the unwritten rule in the mountaineering world is as always
safety first. We moved on towards the summit and could hear the crowds and clanging cowbells. “Eat
if you can Lyndsay,” Nina reminded me. Frantically shoving a gel in my mouth I was sick of the taste
and fairly certain I had gotten more all over me than actually in my mouth.
“Allez Niiiinnnaaa, Allez Lyyynndsay.” Spectators had the start list and cheered us by name, switching
to “go go go” or “way to go America.” We were absolutely blown away at the support we were
receiving. The sound of bells was deafening and it was incredible to see that people skinned up or took
the telepherique at 5am with cowbells the size of your head straight off the neck of the family cows.
Others brought wine, food, and some with accordions to serenade racers with old French folk songs.
The Pierra Menta is the Tour de France of Ski Mountaineering and the energy was awesome. Some
spectators slowly followed behind on course like angels. At the transitions they would plant poles for
you, brush off skis, making everything just a bit easier as the hours pass- although we did hear that they
were not quite as kind to the male racers. Some told me I imagined these angels, which admittedly is
entirely possible. Finally reaching the end of the third skin, our friend Fabienne was there, the women
who lost the ski the day before. She cheered us on. “Now the arete, everyone is up there, they are
waiting for you! Courage!” Skis securely fastened on our packs we began picking our way up the
rocks. It was slippery and exposed, and we made up time catching other teams as the racers ahead were
bunched up waiting to clip and unclip their slings on the fixed ropes. The Pierra Menta requires use of a
harness with two slings set up in a via feratta fashion. Leading men had brushed much of the snow off
the rocks making it muddy and icy and not for the faint of heart. I was happy to clip into the line.
Falling was not an option. One spectator sat on a rock playing his harmonica. Seeing the flags on out
packs he began to play, “When the Troops Come Marching Home.”
“You are American?” One of the guides asked as he helped us clip in. “This is not too hard for you?”
We said we were fine with big smiles and could hear him tell his fellow guides how cool it was that we
were competing. It gave us new strength.
Ascending the final 20 meters, the last ridge of the summit hid the 3000 people waiting in ambush.
Running into the huge crowd all pain was forgotten as we heard cheers of “Courage, bravo, bravo les
filles!” We ripped skins and clicked bindings, the crowds urgently reminding us to check bindings and
boots. I have never experienced such supportive spectators, willing you in unison to complete the race
safely and in one piece. The level of respect for just doing the Pierra Menta was evident. The last
descent I can't really remember feeling my feet. It was a high speed traverse around the peak, then
down about 1200m of extreme skiing through forest and ending in a tuck to the finish. Get me a coke
please and a piece of that awesome pound cake. Boots and wet clothes off immediately. Dinner that
night had us sitting next to some Tyrolean guides from the German speaking part of the Dolomites in
Italy. It was their seventh Pierra Menta. Each year they came for vacation and told us it was the hardest
race yet and that we would break 10,000 meters this year. Only one more day.
Day Four began a bit like the movie Groundhog Day. We have done this before. The daily routine
starts the same. Eat, prepare, race, suffer, finish. Eat again, rest, daily massages (great perk), eat yet
again, prepare gear, sleep. We didn't speak this morning morning for the first fifteen minutes. Just
silently followed the routine. Pack the packs, get the skis ready, get dressed, check beacons, helmets,
sunscreen, food, warm-up. They announced due to snow the course has been shortened 300 meters.
What a gift! The final stage was only 1500 meters. The first climb started and was quickly interrupted
by a mid forest hike through mud and trees. The snow had melted on the exposure and the change of
movement was welcome, we are fast on the boot packs. We could hear the women yelling in French
behind us. Nina and I had a chance to move up a few places in the general classification so their voices
spurred us on as we dug deep and found we still had some fight left. The ascent was long and warm and
sweat and salt was getting in my eyes. Nina set a good pace, and it was easy to just follow and not have
to think. I was redlined. To spice things up there was a 20 meter ski down ice and powder with the
skins on, a true test of balance, and then a brief ascent to the transition. Making up time on a great ski
down, we again had to put skis on packs and be part of a “Rambo” run down a muddy gully. Men were
not afraid to hurl themselves down these slopes and we went as fast as we could just to get out of the
way. Fear of getting trampled made up more time and we caught some stronger teams. We could see a
glimmer of respect from some of these women who have competed their whole lives in this sport. One
last 300 meter climb and a short ski to the finish. “Bird's nest it,” I said to myself (thanks Wick) and
just shoved the skins in my suit for the last time and followed Nina down. Clasping hands through the
finish we threw our arms around each other. Nina's son Birkin had made a “go mommy go” sign, not
only is she an insane competitor, but a mother of two.
We finished the Pierra Menta in 14th place out of 21 teams. Without hesitation we both agree it was the
hardest thing we have ever done and laugh as we think of the things that went through our heads as we
battled the mental demons. I had decided out there that I was ready to give it all up, surf, and move to
Bali. Nina thought about going back to cross country and staying home more with the kids. Elation at
the finish erased the low moments. However, we agreed to wait at least a week before considering
doing it again.
We decided last minute to throw another race into the schedule before our grand finale, the PDG. Nina
and I had planned to do a small local race in Chamonix, but it was canceled due to dangerous snow
conditions. It was now April and the snow was wet and heavy, and the course was on a Southern
exposure ripe for avalanche. Instead, we traveled to Italy to Valsavarenche to do the Tour du Gran
Paradis! We love racing in Italy, the food is good, the crowds excited, and the prizes are awesome.
This race was held bi-annually and the course would travel close to the summit of the Gran Paradiso,
one of Europe's eighty-two four thousand meter peaks and the highest peak entirely within Italy.
It was a beautiful but cool morning as we prepared our gear. We would travel on glacier for part of the
course and need to be roped and travel on a fixed line while crossing a huge crevasse that had opened
near the summit route. The course would allow us to acclimatize to higher altitudes, and race with Tara,
our third teammate for the PDG. Tara was racing with another woman, but it would still be beneficial
to be able to see us all in action. Nina had been sick the past few weeks, so we decided to take it very
easy while enjoying the beautiful day and tour while building confidence and stamina. The profile of
first climb was roughly 7200 feet and comprised most of the vertical, with the second a short 500 feet.
Basically straight up, and straight down.
The first half hour of the race was on foot through forest, followed by some technical skinning through
underbrush. Soon we came out onto the expanse of the glacier and roped up. Passing carefully over the
crevasse with the help of a wooden bridge the guides had fixed into place, we clipped into a safety line
and started up a steep bootpack. Skis on again, we could feel the elevation as we climbed the last few
hundred meters. Taking a quick drink, we took in the stunning views of all the peaks surrounding us,
marveling at how these races allowed us to see and experience different parts of the Alps. The first
descent was very steep, but covered with a few inches of new snow and it skied like a foot. To ski from
almost the summit of 4000 meter peak on a cloudless day is something I wont soon forget. The second
climb was quick and easy, but the last descent challenging with melted snow, gaps of dirt, and the last
kilometer just flat skating to the finish, ouch! We finished satisfied with 5th place, our teammate Tara
finished a strong 4th. We had achieved our goals and now felt confident for the final challenge of the
season, The Patrouilles des Glaciers.
The time had finally come, Nina, Tara, and myself packed up our bags and traveled to Zermatt to race
the PDG, the famous bi-annual ski mountaineering race steeped in history and tradition. The race is
done in teams of three (three or more is considered safer for glacial travel) and run entirely by the
Swiss Army. Zermatt was full of soldiers in fatigues directing clueless racers from different countries.
We had begun the application process last October, a three part process ending in the final decision
being sent via email December 22, in time for Christmas. The race consists of two courses which
follow the Haute Route, the B course, a shorter course from Arolla to Zermatt (1881 meters and 25k)
and the A course, the mac-daddy from Zermatt to Verbier (4000 meters and 53k). No expense is
spared, the race is allowed a budget of about 3 million Swiss Francs.
The Patrouille was started in 1943 during World War II as an event held to boost moral and test skills
among the men in the Swiss army. The first running had only 18 participants compared to close to four
thousand this year. In 1949 three racers disappeared in a crevasse to be recovered dead eight days later.
The race was stopped until with great effort it was reinstated in 1984 with huge security measures in
place. Fifteen hundred soldiers are employed during the event, many of which choose the three weeks
of preparation as part of their obligatory yearly service. As the race has become extremely popular in
years past, there are now two heats. The first heat had already left on Wednesday evening under less
than pleasant conditions. Snow, fog, and -25 degree Celsius wind chill. Friday, today, was the faster
heat, the World Cup event. Weather was not forecast to be much better.
We entered the hall two Americans and a Dutch. The hall was set up into stations and we moved
through each one like clockwork. First they confirmed identity, then we were handed a large plastic bag
with a brand new Swisscom cell phone for emergencies, a map, a GPS, and three HUGE old school
military shovels complete with metal base and wooden handle. All items were mandatory and must be
carried from start to finish. The shovel looked heavy, but in homage to the first soldiers and to the
Swiss Army, we would all carry these tools. We tried not to laugh, and I was relieved to see they broke
down into two parts.
Next they inspected skis and poles and put shiny PDG stickers behind each rear binding. We were one
of only 26 women's teams for course A, compared to 300 or so male teams. Stickers in place (the more
race stickers you have on your skis, the cooler you are), we were directed to one of eight tables to
check boots, beacon, first aid kit, repair kit (knife and duct tape), safety blanket, goggles or sunglasses,
hat, water systems, and harness. Last stop involved getting our rope checked to make certain it was the
proper length. We had stretched elastic along the rope, fastening it with quick ties. This would shorten
the rope so it would not drag on the ground thus be easier to ski together, but still stretch to the
required ten meters when necessary. We got the Swiss thumbs up and we returned to the hotel to have
some lunch before attending the race briefing.
Weather conditions were dire. The chapel was packed with people but very quiet as the commander of
the race forcasted heavy snow, fog, and -35 degree Celsius wind chill. Slides showed previous photos
of frozen-looking racers at the highest point, the Tete Blanche 3650m (12,000 feet). Camelbacks were
deemed useless as they froze, and large mitts were a must. I just kept thinking to myself, wow, this is a
long friggin' way. Outside the chapel, Zermatt guides wandered around in their traditional tweed
knickers, jackets, and old leather packs. The Swiss military band played in spurts. The weather was
getting colder and clouds were moving in, a level of nervous anxiety was in the air. We returned to the
hotel to have our final meal before start time.
Finally it was time to put on all the layers and the suits, We had new suits with the logos of our
sponsors, The Albert Premiere http://www.hameaualbert.fr/ , High-Alpine Guides http://www.highalpine.com/, and Tara's trekking company ATAKA! http://ataka.nl/ . The best part? The logo, Crazy
Idea, was printed on the arm and along the thigh in silver sparkles. For lighting we had headlamps by
Petzl and Milla. The first part of the course was on foot, We each had running shoes that would be
ditched at the first transition. Stepping outside to get a few last minute photos, it started to rain. We
grabbed plastic bags and fastened them over our boots and the tops of the skis to keep things dry.
The last check in involved testing beacons, checking shovels, phones, maps accounted for, GPS
activated (which I was carrying,you could follow our orange dot on Google Earth) and the control card
handed out. The card must be presented at each checkpoint, clipped, and then turned in at the finish by
Nina, our patrol leader.11:45 we headed out into the street. Town was very busy, and we were greeted
by the Commandant. “Bravo les filles, courage!” he said in a serious tone. He shook each of our hands
and commended us on our commitment to race the Patrouille. “Deux minutes!” The gun sounded and
suddenly we were a herd of ski freaks running down Zermatt's main street, the Bahnhofstrasse, people
cheering from hotel windows and bar stools.
The run turned to a path at the end of town. Snow started falling a few hundred meters up making the
going a little slick. An hour flew by and we saw the lights of the first transition. Skis on, we started up
a gradual slope, first Nina, Tara, and then me. The course was marked by glow-sticks mounted to posts.
I mindlessly wondered as we traversed the glacier whose job it was to break and illuminate all those
sticks. After 2:10 hours we reached glacier country near the Schonbiel hut at 2600 meters or 8500 feet.
Time time to rope up and we moved on. It was eerily silent with the exception of repeated questions of
“ca va, you okay?” with the bad conditions, communication was essential.
We arrived at the top at 4:30am. While very cold, the wind had died and it was stunningly beautiful.
Half the valley was covered in broken cloud and the moonlit peaks could be seen. Time to ski roped
through boot high powder down the back side. One last little skin up the Col du Bertol and at 5:12am
awe arrived at the Cabane du Bertol. Nina led the way and we began the long descnet into Arolla in the
dense fog being mindful of tired racers and rocks that looked like shadows.
Arolla seemed very bright with the artificial light. Dawn would arrive soon and we could leave our
headlamps. Team ATAKA! had made the time cut easily by forty-five minutes arriving at 5:45 am. We
sought out our support, Warren, Nina's father and ate quickly. Some racers were not feeling well after
the climb in the challenging weather and some were bothered by altitude. Nina felt a little queasy so we
took an extra minute to recover and eat. Back on course the climb was steep out of Arolla and it took
some effort to get back into a rhythm and get our heartrates elevated once again. We used elastic lines
to keep us all together and functioning as team using shared momentum to keep us on track. The
terrain changed and we reached the transition for the bootpack up to the Col du Reidmatten. Once on
top, we had to wait in line for a slippery and rocky abseil down the other side.
Relieved to be at the bottom, skis off packs and back on feet, we descended down to the Paz du Chat
along the Lac Dix. An 8k side hill skate/skin, my ankles turned to hamburger meat. We hit the next aid
station at La Barma at 9:43am. I grabbed some chicken broth and a few oranges. A soldier handed me a
second glass of broth and remarked with a bit of surprise, “Oh wow, you came from Zermatt? I just
came from Arolla this morning, Zermatt is way too far, that's crazy.”
The last long climb up the Rosablanche was extremely hot in contrast to the early parts of the race. The
sun had finally broken through the high cloud layer. Our skins slushed through the sun-baked snow. So
far so good, no one had had to change skins. The last two hundred meters or so of the climb was a long
boot-pack. Nina led the way setting a solid pace, making up time as we passed competitors from the
shorter B course which had begun in Arolla early that morning. Upon reaching the summit we still had
a short ski and one final climb to come, it seemed endless.
More spectators appeared on the ridge lines, we could see heads lining the ridges. They recognized our
bibs from the A course and started cheering while ringing the ever-present cowbells giving us a push as
we passed, “Allez Zermatt! Allez!” 12:02pm, top of the Col de la Chaux we ripped skins for the last
time and dropped into a tuck for the long twenty-five minute descent to Verbier. Reaching the end of
the ski piste, we threw skis on packs and ran the last two kilometers through town. 12:30pm, we
crossed the line. “Bienvenue a Verbier equipe Chamoinx-Valtourneche!” announced the emcee and we
fell exhausted into a group hug. After about thirty seconds, I knew I wanted to race it all over again in
2010. Who's with me?
Nina and I are planning on racing again in Europe this upcoming season. New races await and one of
our goals involves being the first all-American female team to race the great Trophee Mezzalama in
Cervinia, ItalyEach year we gain confidence in this sport and love sharing the enthusiasm with new
racers. We urge you to get involved, ski touring is a great exercise and an amazing way to experience
the outdoors. We can only hope with our participation over here that we assist in drumming up
publicity for the sport. Stay tuned, we will continue to blog about our activities on fasterskier.com and
my own personal blog (under construction coming soon) Bravabella.com. Enjoy the rest of your
summer and get back to us when you start having those first ski dreams in September.