The very idea of ‘uphill skiing’ is difficult to comprehend. Essentially you fix, by glue, a sort of nylon carpet strip to the bottom of some special skis. The ‘pile’ on the carpet causes the skies to grip the snow such that it is possible to climb up almost any slope.
Now some will promptly assert that even contemplating such effort when mechanical chairlifts are omni present at all resorts seems mad. Well let me tell you it is not. A beautiful day in the mountains can be elevated to the ethereal if you have the courage and a decent level of fitness.
Imagine standing at the bottom of a ski resort looking upward to the highest point in the surrounding landscape. Instead of buying a lift pass and joining ‘the rest’ you take another course.
Your ski boots differ from the norm as do your skis and their bindings. The skis are lightweight and the binding and boots articulate so you can push each leg forward in turn, grip the snow, and make progress in an uphill direction.
Liz and I had often watched some super fit people taking part in this activity and coinciding with a period of our own relative personal fitness we bought ‘the gear’.
On a beautiful cold sunny day in St Gervais we set off from the main ski station, Bettex, heading upward some 2400 feet to the summit of Mont Jolie. As soon as we started our lungs gasped for air, our heart rates became elevated and very quickly started to sweat. Slowly but surely a rhythm developed and the sound of our skis caressing the snow had an almost hypnotic effect. Down hill skiers passed us by as we hugged the side of the piste. ‘Bon courage’ was uttered on many occasions by passing families and upward we progressed. Water packs in our backpacks were sucked upon and the every now and again we would stop for minute or so more to contemplate the beauty of the scene than to recover because once started recovery would only mean something if the task were to be fully achieved.
After around two and half hours of extreme effort we arrived at our goal. Back packs removed we quickly added layers to our now wet bodies to ensure we did not freeze. Thick mittens, jackets and bobble hats all combining to create a ‘toasty bliss’. The ‘skins’ were stripped from our skis and the bindings set to downhill so our skis themselves were now tightly fixed to our bindings and skis themselves. A look around at one of the most beautiful vistas we have ever seen overlooked by the mighty Mont Blanc and we set off. Each turn so hard worked for was bliss. A sort of sensual experience as the skis carved through the crisp snow. The effort that had drained our muscles of strength somehow released all our tension such that we felt as one with our environment. Down, down we went not quickly but not slowly either a rhythmic swinging flow. I don’t think we stopped in fact as the joy we experienced was new and so profound we wanted it to continue for ever.
At the bottom of the mountain we found a small rustic restaurant secured a place by the fire, ordered omelettes and chips and we sipped a glass of red wine. Not much was said as Liz and I had shared a very special experience and we had tasted a sort of ecstasy.
Do try up-hill skiing I think you might enjoy it.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 