An introduction to ski touring: a journey, not the destination

‘The essence of ski touring is the journey, not the destination’ explains our guide, Ben, as we meander our way up through a forest of pine trees, fresh snow from last night’s storms glistening around us. Easy for him to say, as he effortlessly glides up the mountain, and I muster up the energy for a grimace and a nod.

We are on our fifth day of ski touring in the Mont Blanc Massif, surrounded by some of Europe's towering and most impressive peaks, and both my legs and lungs are on fire. This year, instead of skiing within the bounds of one of Chamonix valley's many ski areas, I have chosen to try my hand at ski touring, making my way up the mountain in more remote areas under my own steam. The draw is that I will be able to access slopes and powder that alpine skiers and boarders can't, experiencing the mountains in their purest form, away from the crowds.

Climbing up from Le Tour on our first day, I begin to master the unfamiliar kit and the ‘skinning’ technique. My heels remain unclipped, allowing me more range of movement, and a special ‘skin’ is stuck to the bottom of the ski, allowing me to glide uphill as efficiently as possible without slipping back, awkwardly kick-turning up steeper corners. Experienced tourers make it seem elegant and easy, and yet the skis seem unwieldy and uncontrollable without the heel clipped in. Within the relative safety and visibility of the forest, we enjoy our first few hours on the snow, even as we clamber over the debris of an old avalanche. We climb higher than the tree line, and soon find ourselves in white-out conditions, with just a few metres of visibility, a stark reminder of how quickly conditions can change.

Despite knowing that we are just a few hundred metres away from Le Tour’s ski area, it suddenly feels utterly remote, and doubt begins to settle in. We’ve left it too late in the day, and I worry it may get dark before we make it to the top.  Yet, we follow our map, and our noses, and soon enough we are at the top, well before dark. The clouds clear for just a few seconds as we transition into downhill mode and a view of the valley with deep yellows and oranges tinting the edges of the clouds appears.

We spend an afternoon on the side of Aiguillette des Houches, learning to use the avalanche transceivers, shovels and probes in case the worst should happen.  To the backdrop of Mont Blanc’s unmistakable silhouette, we practise the routine of finding someone in the debris and digging them out. By that point, any time spent off my skis is a relief, but the exercise is a sobering reminder of the risks we could be taking.

Avalanche safety practise 

On my fourth day we climb out from the resort of Megeve, a 40-minute drive from our Airbnb in Les Houches. We attract some confused looks from skiers as we initially make our way up, rather than down, the side of the ski slopes, until we veer off through the forest, breaking trail through the freshly fallen snow. We take turns in front making the first tracks of the day in the knee-deep snow; back-breaking and yet strangely satisfying work as the sun shimmers across the snow that covers the branches around us.

Out of the protection of the forest and up to the Col de Jaillet, the wind strengthens and begins to whip up the snow around us. Hoods up and heads down, we power up the last 250 metres,  keen to get out of the elements as soon as possible. The view, a sea of white all around, is a disappointment, but I descend through thick, fluffy powder, tracing a new path, and savouring every one of the turns that has been thoroughly earnt on the way up.

A few years ago, a couple of après-ski pints straight off the slopes would often lead to 2AM finishes in night clubs having spent the night dancing to Europop tunes, still kitted out in full ski gear. This year, I find myself enjoying a civilised Côte du Rhône as I pore over maps and navigation apps, checking the weather forecast and the avalanche warning sites to plan our routes for the next day. The ski touring experience doesn’t stop once you get home, and it’s all encompassing, yet I come away feeling that I have only just touched the surface.

Planning 

Ben was right. Had the views at the top been our end-game during the week, I may have been sorely disappointed. But each journey was different and breathtaking in its own way and I have no doubt I will be back for more soon. S x