I've been ski touring for a few years now and it's a great way of heading off into the winter wilderness away from the crowds - kind of the skiing equivalent of mountain biking away from trail centres. Part of it is the wish to explore, but equally its perfectly acceptable to head for a famous mountain purely for the purpose of 'sessioning' one nice slope a few times. Its particularly fine when the weather is good and you know there will be hoards at the various Scottish ski centres with the attendant lengthy queues and crowded slopes. You will also generally be away from the usual haunts of the Munro baggers and winter mountaineers as the skier is generally aiming for different terrain.
Of course its never as simple as that and a certain amount of determination is required, as well as a willingness to deal with foul weather and the ability to grab the opportunities when they arise. And like everything else these days, ski touring requires a mountain of gear with endless permutations of ski widths, boot types, binding types, etc. etc. that will be familiar to any bike obsessive. Likewise you get the 'old skool' types who do it on skinny skis, leather boots and simple freeheel bindings - a fine analogy of the guy on the ancient steel tourer who will happily take it to the places many would only dare go with 6" of suspension travel.
My own approach is a bit of a mixture. I've spent a fair bit on the latest gear in order to try to compensate for my crap technique (I am all the gear and no idea when it comes to skiing), but conversely have committed my soul to the pursuit of the free heel; i.e telemarking. In the last few years I have also given the skinny skis / leather boots thing a try but so far I've not achieved much beyond a lot of bruising on my backside....
Keeping it local. The Ochills have provided me with some fine skiing, helped by the easy terrain and lack of rocks. This was a fine powder day off the back of Whitewisp Hill.
And finally for the local photos, and at the other end of the spectrum - entering the tree line in a foot of powder. Tree skiing is largely unknown in Scotland as snow generally only occurs well above where trees can grow. This was a rare and very special day in the Ochills, winter '21 (it was also my 50th!)
Today I was heading for the hills west of the A9 as it surmounts the Drumochter pass. The forecast was for sun, snow levels should be good and snow conditions potentially perfect. Oh and no avalanche risk. I never ski anything steep enough for this to be an issue in any case but its always nice to know... Driving up (annoyingly skiing requires lots of driving) revealed many bare hills. But a glimpse of solid white on Ben a'Ghlo suggested I was on the money. Sure enough as I burned up the dual carriageway, my target hills were (nearly) solid white. The sun was shining, the temps were low single figures and I'd remembered all my stuff. Oh yes.
The length of the walk in (i.e. before you can put your skis on) is always a consideration not shared by our Alpine cousins. 1 hour seems to be the limit for most folk but it all depends on the end product. A much viewed video on you tube followed two guys who walked up a largely snow free Ben Nevis, in order to ski tower gulley on its north face, the catch being this was mid summers day in 2011! Today my stomp up the track from Dalnaspidal Lodge (the start of the track past Loch Garry to Loch Rannoch via Duinish Bothy) up by the Alt Coire Luidhearnaidh to my first use of skis took half an hour. Looking up revealed many big snow patches with solid cover higher up. Below 500m was largely bare. 500m has no geographical significance but a lot of fat biking experience has shown that this is the magic number, altitude wise, below which there can be no snow and above which loads. I don't know why this should be.
The best example of the 500m rule - Winter 2014. This was on Glas Tulaichean on a rare nice day that year. Wild weather led to the most snow seen for a generation but it was all above 500m. Below there was not a drop...
Ski touring fun - threading a line through the snow patches to avoid having to take skis off. A bit of nosing about enabled me to pick a line with only some minor heather trimming required. This got me onto the big white room - flat white all round, the sun beating down and a breeze to keep you cool. After much climbing (more later) I traversed the large rounded bump of Meallan Bhuide and summited to get an idea as to where I fancied going. The southern flank of Sgairneach Mhor was my notional target as I've seen this hill many times from the A9, plastered in snow and looking just the place for some easy turns. As I'd hoped it was completely white and looked perfect. This was going to be a good day.
The snow was quite hard thanks to a number of thaw / freeze cycles and cold overnight temps but the blazing sun should soften it to give the perfect combination of a firm surface but plenty of grip and easy edging, skiing heaven. Dropping some height revealed my new skins liked to glide (also more later) and I was cruising. A line choice error lead to skis off and a brief walk before I got onto another vast white slope heading for the summit of Mam Ban. Now if you were to walk across this sans snow it would be an ankle and knee threatening mass of heather, tussocks, rocks and bunny holes. Today it was billiard table smooth and easy going. And speaking of bunnies I saw several mountain hares in their winter coats - fabulous. Eventually I topped out to see a vast winter panorama all round.
Across the top it was quite icy. Still grippy but my upward progress was accompanied by much scraping. Typically on reaching the summit I noted a fair bit of cloud obscuring the Cairngorms but the sun shone to the south. Jacket on, off with skins and into bag, shorten poles, remove hat and sunnies, put lid and goggles on, adjust boots, step into skis, get ready for the off. Yes ski touring involves a lot of faffing although with practice 'transitions' can be effected fairly quickly. In theory you're meant to spend the whole morning climbing up some Alpine monster and then spend an hour or two going down so you are only removing skins / adjusting gear once. In Scotland you have to be prepared for a lot more ups and downs if you want a full day out, therefore a lot more kit changes. Disaster struck when I bent over to attach ski leashes (these prevent the ski disappearing down the hill in the event of a crash / binding release) as brown liquid poured out of my rucksack, over my head and onto the snow. What? Oh it's tea. Yes my flask lid had sprung and bending over had caused it to open and empty its contents into the rucksack and then over my head. Fortunately my down jacket was in a dry bag and there was nothing else in there I needed but I was miffed to say the least - no tea with my lunch! I seem to be suffering from an abundance of muppetry these days.
Anyway, into the first descent. There was much scraping on the icy summit ridge as I dropped back aways, in order to avoid the steep stuff. I paused for breath and to wait for the cloud to clear as all around me was flat white. The sun came out to reveal a smooth descent to a wide gulley some 1000m (horizontally) below. As soon as I rolled off the ridge I was out of the ice and into perfect soft snow. As usual my first few turns were a bit clanky until I found that perfect telemark rhythm. Lower down were a few obstacles but these just added to the fun, riding round rocks and heather patches and nipping through narrow snow bridges to another wide snow field. Finally I dropped into the snow filled gulley breathing hard with the effort.
Now its a funny thing but I've noticed that hill walkers always seem to want to stop for lunch on the summit of a hill, even if its blowing a gale. This has lead to much building of stone shelters on hill tops across the land in order to try and find some comfort when cowering from the wind and rain. Personally I like to eat lunch in comfort and this was a perfect spot. I sat in a patch of dry grass, the sun beating down and reflecting off the snow around me, with not a breath of wind. Apart from the lack of tea I spent a fine hour sunbathing and eating and wondering what to do next.Easy, do it again, and again. Skinning up enabled a bit more surveying of the slope to find a much better line than my first run. There was a steady stream of walkers on the summit and heading up to Ben Udlamain - a well trodden munro baggers route - but my personal ski slope was entirely free of others. This is all tremendously hard work of course and my legs were fair aching by the time I finished the third run.
Skiing uphill?
Despite the popularity of ski touring and its various nordic variations, the concept of skiing uphill is still something that non outdoors type seem to struggle with. Skins are the answer - a modern analogy of strips of seal skin that stone age inhabitants of Scandinavia strapped to the bottom of the long carved planks used to travel across deep snow. These days they are either wholly synthetic or use mohair (poor bunnies) to form a dense knap of fibers all pointing backwards. So pushing a ski forwards means the skin glides across the snow but it stops the ski going backwards (thing stroking a cat the wrong way). This enables you to slide up quite a steep hill in order to then bomb back down it again. They attach to the ski base via a self adhesive surface - sort of like extra sticky post-it notes - and straps or clips at the tip and tails. Managing these is a royal pain in the backside, particularly if its windy, as they try to stick themselves to you, the ground, your rucksack and each other. Also in Scotland is the ever present threat of grass which if it gets onto the sticky backing, takes endless hours to pick off. Ask me how I know! How much grip uphill depends on the area of the skin you have, your weight, the snow conditions and the gradient. Problems arise as a gradient increases and suddenly (always without warning) your ski shoots backwards as grip fails. In certain situations (an icy Fiacaille ridge in my case) this can be dodgy as you always seem to be beyond the point of safety when grip fails. If you're on a narrow ridge or slope you need to engage plan B. Plan B involves getting off the skis and into your crampons (you have remembered them haven't you?) which can be a challenge in the kind of conditions that lead you to this point in the first place i.e. steep, icy and exposed. On wider slopes its just a case of cutting across the slope at a shallower angle and zig-zagging your way up. At the end of each zig (or zag) you do what's called a kick turn. This involves a ballet dancer-esque move whereby you kick round your uphill foot so that its pointing the other way, then you swing round the other foot in one balletic movement. Unfortunately this results in feet pointing in opposite directions, obviously whilst attached to 6 foot long planks. The strain on ones groin is immense and I therefore tend to adopt a less stylish but more age friendly approach by shuffling one ski, then the other, round to face the new direction, the difficulty being its easy to end up with one ski pointing up the hill and therefore sliding back down, generally dumping you on your backside (again).
For narrower nordic type skis a pattern of rear facing 'fish scales' molded into the middle third of the base provides grip for going along and up easier grades. In theory this is much better for varied terrain as you can progress without any kit changes and can make for very fast going. The problem is that the gradient you can get grip on is a lot less than a skin and they tend to be a bit unpredictable in soft snow, leading to more flailing about and falls. The narrow skis are also harder to turn and if you are really going for the true Nordic style you also need leather boots which makes holding an edge solely down to will power. Fishscale bases are finding their way onto wider and wider skis however.
Looking across my personal ski area
On this slope the skinning had been easy. I've seen plenty vids of people negotiating narrow couloirs, steep burn lines and even full on climbing but my preference is for an easy time and some nice skiing. Its why I've skied my local Ochills so many times. Nice grassy rolling bumps just make it so much easier and you don't have to worry about errant rocks wrecking bases if the snow is a bit thin.
So now what. I was tired but the sun still shone and I had a suspicion this may be it for winter 21/22. So I decided to ski up to the point I'd reached earlier to get one more view of Ben Alder before making may way back. I noted that someone else had been down my slope but I was pleased that my visible tracks indicated some nice even turns. I paused for one final look at the view and then turned for home. Three people on skis appeared coming down towards me. We stopped to exchange route notes and they headed off. I was pleased to see they all had freeheel bindings, two on nordic skis and one heroically using leather boots. I felt slightly self conscious on my fancy (and nearly new) skis and hi-tech bindings as I watched them effortlessly glide away.
I headed back roughly the way I'd come, less the walking thanks to a better route choice. It's always good when you peel the skins off for the last time and start the final run down. This is also something that for us Scottish ski tourers differs somewhat from what our European cousins have to contend with. For them its just a case of making the best of the last run, right down to the car park, off with your gear and into a bar for a post ski beer. In Scotland its a case of trying to get as far down the hill as possible before the snow runs out and you are back on shanks pony. This led to another ace run as the snow lower down was lovely and soft. Several turns on some big patches linked by narrow bits through the heather got me back to my start point. 20 minutes of leisurely walking later I was back at the car, looking up into where I'd been with a huge grin at having bagged such a fabulous day.
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