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| Walking uphill using ‘skins’ |
There is no way forward. We are locked to the spot on a dizzyingly steep gulley far above Chamonix, where falling spindrift has obscured the footholds of earlier, more confident climbers. A narrow vein of packed snow between rock faces offers less and less purchase as we ascend, and we grind to a halt.
I look down at the slender steel spikes protruding from the toe points of my crampons, on which the weight of my body – and my skis and pack – is now resting, and fleetingly wonder what would happen if either of my unroped companions above me lost their footing. It is a long way down.
This is not some daring Alpine ascent, but a snapshot from a “ski tour”, a deceptively leisurely phrase for a pursuit that puts physical stamina and skiing skills to the test. Known as “backcountry” in the US or “ski randonnée” in France, it involves skiers travelling long distances under their own steam, often through stunning high mountain scenery, to reach the freshest, most remote slopes, sometimes staying in mountain huts overnight to extend their range.
Most huts provide food for hungry skiers, but everything else – climbing and safety equipment, spare clothes – must be carried up slopes, over ridges and peaks. At oxygen-starved altitudes, it is demanding work, sustained largely by the promise of untouched fields of powder snow.
With the help of Miles Bright, an experienced British mountaineer and a Chamonix-based guide, we are attempting the Haute Route which connects Chamonix and Zermatt in Switzerland. First discovered in 1861, it is Europe’s most popular tour.
Groups typically take five or six days to complete our chosen variation via Verbier (there are six main options). Before we set off, though, Bright has some disconcerting news: bad weather is approaching and all indications suggest it will arrive in three days. Does that mean completing only half the route, we ask? No – we’ll do the whole thing in three days, by the simple expedient of “double days”. Our faces fall. “You boys are up to it,” Bright assures us. We’re not so sure.
As we set off the following day, our packs weigh heavily and the air feels thin. A lift takes us to the foot of the Argentière glacier – the starting point – where we find ourselves surrounded by some of the most awe-inspiring scenery the Alps has to offer.
Bright points out our route via the Col du Passon, a daunting ridge that will take us to the Glacier du Tour and on to the Trient plateau. We must move quickly if we are to stand a chance of bypassing the Trient hut and reaching Verbier before nightfall. Yet sprinting ahead is a dangerous strategy in high-altitude ski touring – better to keep a steady pace that preserves every ounce of energy.
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| Dix Hut, built of solid granite |
Ski touring requires special equipment to allow the skier to walk uphill, including adhesive “skins” stuck to the bottom of the skis (see box). It also requires mastery of a delicate procedure called the “kick turn”, which allows you to turn around safely while zigzagging up steep slopes. The idea is to lift the uphill ski and flip it over to face the other way, leaving you standing with feet pointing in opposite directions. Then, a sharp kick to the toe of the downhill ski frees it so you can swivel it round and slide it in beside its neighbour in one smooth movement. Any lack of precision at this point is fatal to the turn.
Back on the icy gulley above Chamonix, with our skis strapped to our rucksacks and crampons deployed, losing balance is to be avoided. But our forward motion resumes when Bright, who has been adjusting his kit some distance below us, blithely scampers ahead, ropes us up – “just for confidence” – then, with some deft strokes of his ice axe, cuts vital steps in the slope before urging us over the first ridge of the day.
After another hour we find ourselves atop the Plateau du Trient, a vast plain of unbroken whiteness. Like ants on a starched tablecloth, we trek across it, eventually spotting the Trient Hut, the usual refuge for the night. But we are not stopping. A long, choppy descent to the village of Champex followed by a cab ride brings us, aching and exhilarated, to the welcome comforts of Verbier. Checking into a hotel feels like cheating – but we sleep like babies.
On day two, we become efficient at pulling skins on and off, reducing the “faff time” needed to switch between uphill and downhill modes. After a six-hour succession of toothlike ridges, a long traverse beside the sugar-icing surface of the Dix Lake and a seemingly endless climb in dwindling light, we stumble into the Dix Hut at 2,928m. To call it a “hut” is something of a misnomer. Built of solid granite over three floors, the Dix offers hot meals, if not hot water, and a comfortable place to sleep in a dormitory-style bunk room.
Staying in a hut is an unmissable part of the touring experience. As the temperature drops outside, groups of sunburnt skiers raise the heat and noise levels inside. French, Italian and Swiss accents drift around the dining room as the hut guardian, who lives there throughout the season, distributes steaming bowls of soup, pasta and bread, washed down with red wine – all of it brought up by helicopter once a week.
We compare the day’s trials with the contour lines on the map and trace the final day’s route. Bright recounts his recent trips and talks about his guiding business which, he says, far from struggling in the recession, has been kept fully booked this year by time-rich City types brandishing large redundancy cheques. As hut etiquette dictates, we retire early for a night of fitful, high-altitude sleep.
At 7am the next day the mountains are at their finest. The dawn light sets off the peaks with a pinkish glow as we trek up the first gentle slopes, our aim to reach the peak of Pigne d’Arolla before heading to Zermatt.
But suddenly the conditions change for the worse. Snow begins to fall, the wind gets up and icy particles whip into our faces while Bright slices shallow grooves in the path to give us a chance of reaching the crest of the hill.
In close to zero visibility, he shouts over the raging wind and snow to deliver the bad news: the weather front has arrived ahead of time, putting paid to our bid for Haute Route glory. To go on – walking across crevasse-ridden glaciers in a whiteout – would be inviting disaster.
So, just half a day short of our finishing line, we turn down into the nearest valley towards the Swiss town of Arolla. Minutes later, the storm is behind us and the sun reappears from behind the clouds. As we enter a meadow of unblemished powder snow, we let out a final whoop of delight. We may not have made it, but we had fun trying.
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Ski-touring kit
Skins
Strips of material with adhesive on one side and a velvet-like nap on the other which skiers place on the base of the ski in order to walk uphill; they allow smooth movement in one direction, but grip the snow in the other.
Couteaux/harscheisen
Toothed metal attachments to the bindings that give extra grip when climbing icy slopes, where skins are less effective.
Avalanche transceivers
Electronic homing beacons that are held securely beneath the clothes and can spell the difference between life and death if you are unlucky enough to set off an avalanche. A telescopic probe and snow shovel are also important.
Harness
For roping up the group over crevasses and on steep slopes.
Crampons and ice axe
For use on tough slopes and ice.
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The details
Miles Bright: miles@alpineguide.co.uk
Dix Hut: www.cabanedesdix.ch
The Ski Club of Great Britain runs ski tours and training weekends: www.skiclub.co.uk
