GUIDED BY GOODLAD
The Ski Club’s Alpine Safety Advisor Bruce Goodlad contemplates a season unlike any other and the future of winter
Kate Scott (Bruce’s wife) lapping up the pow in the closed Saint-Gervais ski area
Like all of you, I love skiing and spending time in the mountains. Having made a life choice to live in the Alps, I have managed to get some skiing in this season, unlike so many of you trapped by Covid restrictions. Judging by the conversations I’ve had with clients and other non-mountain-based skiers, you’re all chomping at the bit and desperate to get back into the mountains next winter.
This winter has been unusual for me as I’ve spent almost all of it close to home in the French Alps. I’ve had only two forays into Switzerland, which kept its resorts open throughout the winter: on one occasion, we used a lift to start a ski tour, while on the second I ran an avalanche awareness day for a Swiss-based scout group using lifts.
With ski lifts closed across most of the Alps this winter, there’s been an assumption that it would be easy to get fresh tracks and have the mountain to yourself. But this couldn’t have been further from the truth. The lift closures have resulted in an explosion in the popularity of ski touring. Car parks have been full by 8am or earlier, and if you haven’t made it out first thing on a powder day, you’ve found yourself sharing terrain with fellow tourers. In the Mont Blanc massif, 1500m of ascent has become the new norm, with many skiers regularly putting in 2000m days.
Put simply, the mountains have not been quiet. The lack of running ski lifts and avalanche control has not deterred those living in proximity to the mountains. That’s not to say, however, that the economic impact on mountain communities has been anything but significant, with bars, restaurants and lifts remaining closed.
Mike Austin enjoying a perfect January powder day on the Tête d’Armancette
HEMP AND HYPOCRISY
This peculiar winter has led me to reflect on our sport and how we practice it. To my mind, the uncomfortable truth is that skiing simply is environmentally unfriendly. We get on a plane to fly to a mountain that has been mechanically terra formed and then groomed by huge petrochemical guzzling machines so we can slide down it on bits of wood wrapped in more petrochemicals (resin). It’s all a bit ridiculous.
I appreciate this makes me sound like a card-carrying member of the green party, but I’m not. I’ve spent 30 years travelling round the world climbing and skiing. I’ve climbed or skied on all seven continents and clocked up a fair few air miles along the way. I accept that I have contributed to the current environmental problem.
So, I want to acknowledge the hypocrisy, as there are few things that get me more wound up than an older member of our guiding community sitting in an ivory tower telling us all we shouldn’t ski unless we can get there by electric train and wear hemp clothing. It’s easy to be self-righteous when you’ve been everywhere and done everything.
Acknowledging this hypocrisy is the first step to achieving change. Yet if we accept that skiing, and particularly global lift-accessed skiing, has a significant environmental impact that is detrimental to the mountain environment we all love, how can we continue to ski and reduce our impact? I don’t pretend to be an expert, but there are ways of doing so.
I now make fewer, longer international trips, thereby reducing the number of flights I take. I choose to spend much of my winter ski touring rather than using lifts. I don’t go heli-skiing; I have done and it’s great fun but I don’t think we can justify the fuel burn when we could skin up. Plus, the noise pollution is horrendous.
I make my gear last longer by repairing rather than replacing it every year. I am sponsored by Mammut and we have a deal that they replace things as they wear out, not when the fashion or colour changes.
When I get new skis from Dynastar, I pass the old ones to people who will use them rather than letting them rust in a shed. When my ski boots get worn, I replace the liners rather than the whole boot. In this way, I can get through three or four sets of liners before I need to replace the shell.
I appreciate that these are small steps, but imagine the impact we could have if each of us in the skiing community considered taking similar measures.
Mike finding some powder between the crust and spring snow in the West Combe of the Blonnière…
…and showing some spray in the Combe d’Armancette
Mike setting off on the descent from Mont Joly during a traverse from Saint-Gervais to Les Contamines
THE DREAM SKI SEASON
While I was skiing with friends recently, we got into that oft-repeated conversation about where in the world you’d do a ski season, if you could. Amongst our small group, not one person mentioned a destination that had a ski lift.
Several spots came up along the Norwegian coast, where all skiing is human powered, and Iceland was mentioned too – although it’s becoming known for its heli-ski industry, it’s home to some amazing ski touring. Closer to home, we touched on places like Val Maira and Val Stura in Italy’s Piedmont region, where there are very few lifts, great touring and stunning villages in which to enjoy the local culture. The way I see it, this is the future of skiing in a more environmentally conscious way.
So, looking ahead to next winter, perhaps we could consider a few of these issues and together, little by little, we could start to make a difference.
All photographs accompanying this feature were taken by Bruce Goodlad during the winter of 2020/21, in areas located within a short drive from his home in the French Alps.