Pro Guiding Service - Why Telemark?

Telemark skiing rose from the ashes of extinction in the mid 1970s for intelligent reasons. Lightweight equipment expedited those long winter approaches into the North American backcountry. And skinny skis with sidecut and metal edges made backcountry slopes not just survivable but fun.

Interestingly, the heaviest telemarking equipment of that era was featherweight by modern standards. The beefiest boots compared to the Asolo Snowfield and tipped the scales at 4 1/2 pounds (size 10 1/2). Most of us sneered at such overkill, however, and employed general touring boots weighing under 3 pounds. Meanwhile, boards like the venerable Europa 99 when mounted with sturdy three-pin bindings weighed less than 6 pounds.

In contrast, the hefty alpine touring gear of that epoch evolved in Europe where lifts eliminated the drudgery of long approaches. Europeans needed tools appropriate for steep climbs and sheer drops. Consequently, the alpine touring skis/bindings I dragged over the glaciers and peaks of Switzerland in 1979 pounded the scales down to the 11 1/2-pound mark. Add to that 8 1/2 pounds of boot weight and it's no surprise that six months of European ski-mountaineering stretched my legs.

An old backpacking axiom states a pound of extra weight on the foot equals five pounds of excess baggage on the back. Quibble over the ratio if you'd like, but in very rough figures my European alpine-touring rig, which was 10 1/2 pounds heavier than my tele gear, had the fatigue factor of shouldering an extra 40 to 50 pounds.

Since the 1970s, touring equipment has evolved strangely. Telemark gear has bulked up ludicrously, while alpine touring gear has leaned out intelligently. Now, average telemarking boards weigh 7 to 7 1/2 pounds, average alpine touring skis 6 1/2 to 7 pounds (some alpine-touring skis, like the Dynastar Altiplumes, actually weigh less than the lightweight tele skis of the 1970s).

Over the years, telemark bindings have doubled in weight: the now-standard cable binding weighs 1 1/2 pounds. Alpine touring bindings, however, have gone anoretic: the Dynafit Tourlite binding, which has received kudos from users since its European debut six years ago, weighs a sand-in-the-face 1 1/4 pounds. And Silvrettas new SL binding weighs in at a respectable 2 pounds.

Boots best illustrate telemark's bloating. The 4-1/2-pound Asolo Snowfield, which I believe offers a rational compromise between weight and performance, were once considered monstrous. Now, they are dismissed as slippers. The envy of modern telemarkers are entries like the Merrell Super Comps (9 1/2 lbs, size 10 1/2) Scarpa Terminator (9 lbs 2 ounces, size 10 1/2) Scarpa Terminator II (8 1/2 lbs, size 10 1/2), entries that are so leadened they actually outweigh alpine touring boots like the Dynafit Tourlite (7 1/4 lbs, size 10 1/2).

If math ain't your forte, let me emphasize what all these numbers conclude: Today you can ski on alpine-touring gear that is lighter than what modern telemarkers drag into the backcountry. Not only is the gear lighter, it greatly increases the ability to control those crud conditions bloodying the noses of most telemarkers.

Relatively speaking, I'm a far better telemarker than alpine skier, yet last spring when skiing breakable crust in the Alps or 50-degree couloirs in the Canadian Rockies, I thanked the lazy streak in me that had demanded I tote my lightest rig (yup, alpine touring gear) instead of the lead (my tele gear).

Then, too, there's the safety factor: Alpine-touring bindings release, reliably so. When you want to rip up powder (rather than knees) fifteen miles from the nearest road, there's comfort in that knowledge.

Given telemarking's desire to reinvent downhill skis (fat boards, beefy bindings, gargantuan boots), and given the reality that when the going gets tough (slopes steep enough, couloirs narrow enough, snow cruddy enough) telemarkers often resort to parallel turns, the obvious question arises: Why Telemark?

Here are the explanations that I, a devoted telemarker, am forced to examine:
1) We're oxymorons, the term pinhead was coined for a reason.
2) We suffer from the look-at-me-I'm-skiing-harder-equipment-and-am-therefore-a-better-skier-than-you syndrome.
3) We were born on pins and, by God, we'll die on pins (a subset of reason #1).
4) We're stubborn. For years downhillers have accused us of reinventing alpine gear, we refuse to clamp down the heels and prove them right.
5) We were bored of alpine skiing or, possibly, the mug we saw in the mirror each morning. Pins and headplants provide both a change of pace and a change of face.

When asked to remove tongue from cheek and list legitimate reasons for pinhead allegiance to second-rate equipment, two rational groups of users do spring to mind. First are the purists who forsake the state-of-the-farce equipment of the 1990s in preference for the state-of-the-art gear of the 1970s; they can continue to crow about the speed and freedom of movement telemarking affords. Next are the pragmatists who love life more than seeing their name in print; they can kindle endorphine bonfires on tele gear without venturing onto if-you-fall-you-die inclines.

Intelligent telemarkers are, of course, statistical anomalies these days. Nonetheless, that rare skier who carves exquisite lines on gossamer gear reminds me that a few seers still understand the crux of what makes this inferior equipment superior.