Ski Touring Attempt #1

Back in Canada, my friends in Vancouver were always raving about the merits of ski touring, where the chaos of groomed slopes is replaced by the solitude and beauty of nature. Despite the fact that the sport received such positive reviews, there were a number of things that I just couldn't wrap my head around. First, strapping on heavy skis and walking up a mountain? No thanks. Secondly, whenever someone mentions the "back country" my survival instincts scream "AVALANCHE", thus paralyzing me in fear. Needless to say, it didn't seem like a sport that I was likely to enjoy nor take up anytime soon. Slowly, I am seeing the light.

My first realization came on my first snowshoe in the Alps to Mont Truc. I had, ironically, strapped snowshoes onto my feet to walk up a mountain.  There were ski tourers close by, and I admit that in my head I may have snickered at my fellow mountain-goers, as their suffering and discomfort was clearly at a level superior to my own. My snickering came to a sudden halt as soon as I witnessed the skiers clamp down their heels, and glide gracefully and swiftly down the slope. Looking down at my own snowshoe-clad feet, I knew it would be a slow journey back down to the car. Maybe there was something to this ski touring sport after all...

My visit up to Notre Dame de Bellecombe, where I was graciously received by the Favrets a few weekends back, affirmed my suspicions.  With some extra gear on hand, my hosts Claude and Christian outfitted me with some touring skis, and we took off up the mountain. I went in with an open mind, keeping focused on the prospect of a speedy and fun-filled descent once we reached the top. To my surprise, I thoroughly enjoyed the ascent.  Quiet trails, sunshine, and good company made it pleasant hard work. We popped out of the trees on top of the ski resort Praz sur Arly, took in some sun, and then started to make our way down. This is where things started to go terribly wrong: with long and heavy skis and lack of practice, I had to resort to the classic, but ultimately humbling method of getting down a mountain. Snowplowing. I grimaced as I was passed by literally everyone on the slopes, and in the end I think it took me longer to get down than it did to get up. 

Even with the ugly descent, I'd consider my first ski tour to be a success. Or at least 50% successful...maybe it would be wise to stick to snowshoeing?

Touring skis

The Favrets

Room with a view

Snowy sunbathing

View of Notre Dame de Bellecombe

Made in France