“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.”
― T.E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom
The Italian winter of 2020-2021 saw one of the greatest snowfalls in recent history. For those of us in the plains below, it was endless rainfall; but up above among the peaks; it was light snowflakes which make the powder of skiers’ dreams.
Except, in a cruel irony; the Italian government had closed all the ski resorts to protect their population from the dangers of a virus which had gripped the world.
In terms of the lives and livelihoods lost from the virus; the story of a lost season of epic skiing doesn’t quite reach the threshold of a tale of woe and suffering.
Luckily, this isn’t a story of woe (but there is some very real-physical- suffering).
Necessity is the mother of invention. And with epic snowfall, closed borders, and regularly updated decrees from the Italian government on what we couldn’t do; we had to find a new way to experience our beloved mountains in winter.
Since fate has a way of bringing you what you need; I conducted training with the Alpini– or Italian mountain troops- who taught me the basics of Ski mountaineering, or Ski-Alpinismo as they call it in Italy.
Ski mountaineering also known as ski-touring is the act of climbing up a mountain with specially modified equipment in order to ski down them. On the bottom of the skis are “seal skins” which allow you to move uphill without sliding back down, and your heels are free to allow a more fluid movement. When you are ready to go down, you take off the seal skins and lock your heel in.
Simple right? Well sort of. Like all things, the devil is in the details. I had been interested in ski mountaineering for many years, but in the Pacific Northwest, where my lifelong passion for the mountains was solidified, the skills and equipment necessary to participate appeared too high.
Those of us in America at the time accepted that in-depth knowledge of avalanche conditions (a science and art that can take a lifetime to acquire) and expensive equipment from Europe was required. Plus, if the desire to ski came upon me; I could always go to a resort, which would whisk me-effort free- to the top of the mountain with none of the costs and risks.
Thus, the dream to ski-mountaineer remained unrealized; to lie where all the other adventurous dreams of the day burned.
Until there were no resorts. Then the dream became a need. And, thanks to the Alpini, I now had some of the necessary skills. We decided that every free weekend that month; we would head to the mountains.
As a family, we drove up to the breathtakingly beautiful mountain village of Arabba in the Dolomites. In a normal winter, it is a world renowned way point in the classic Sella Ronda ski tour.
This wasn’t a normal winter. The snow was piled so high; it felt like we were driving through a white tunnel as we approached. The lifts were closed. The village quiet. The slopes empty.
With our friend, John, my wife and I rented our ski-alpinismo equipment. Then we promised to meet before dawn of the following day.
At 0530, in the darkness of the winter night, Lisa and I got dressed and sleepily struggled to put together our equipment. Then we trudged outside and met John.
Together we stepped into our gear and began climbing the empty slope. Alone, among the trees, we saw the beginning of the sun lightening the valley below us. Slowly, the sun began to share its warmth with us.
Lisa, a member of the ski patrol, quickly mastered the technique to glide as much as possible on the skis while climbing.
Technique mattered, because this was hard work. Our heart rates soared as we trudged uphill. The suffering alleviated by the tremendous natural beauty around us. It was, according to John, our own “Private Dolomites.”
This being Europe, once we reached the top, a small mountain rifugio, or cabin, was improbably open. I can only imagine the lady who served us was hoping the government would soon allow the the resort to open. We had cappuccinos and strudel, filled with the pleasure of hard physical work finally accomplished. Then we headed down.
The snow was perfect and all too soon we reached the bottom where we had started hours before.
Lisa and I were addicted. After a spirited fondue dinner with another couple, we agreed to go again with them the very next day.
As before, in the winter darkness, we met and began to climb uphill. The mountains on that side of the valley were steeper and the wind stung our face with its bitter cold. At times our skis would slip and we worried we might fall down the face. We climbed higher and struggled at the limits of our stamina.
When we were ready to ski down, our frozen fingers had trouble preparing our equipment for the descent.
But once again, we were filled with joy as we took long swooping curves on empty slopes of fresh powder. We had in the parlance of ski mountaineering, “earned our turns”, and as result the descent was even sweeter.
Lisa and I headed out another time that month to ski-tour. Under blue skies we found ourselves surrounded by beautiful rock faces and snow covered peaks that stretched to the horizon.
At the end of the month, in the iconic Olympic ski town of Cortina; we arranged ski lessons for our two oldest daughters. With lifts closed, I carried the girls up the hill after each run.
Then in one of the serendipitous twists of fate, we met Prince Hurbertus-the father of our daughters’ instructor. He is an Olympic skier who represents Mexico at international competitions in a Mariachi spandex suit. We had followed him since our first child was born in Mexico City.
We commiserated with him on the lost ski season of epic snow.
Except for us, it hadn’t been lost.
We had been introduced to the hard earned joys of ski mountaineering; where hours of laborious climbing were rewarded by fleeting minutes of floating velocity.
We had a new passion and will still be ski mountaineering even when the resorts reopen.
The dreams of the day made possible.
Roland Minez is a co-founder of Pushing Horizons.
Disclaimer: All views expressed are that of the author. As an REI Associate, Pushing Horizons earns from qualifying purchases.
