Page 48 - 2023 AMA Spring

SKIMOUNTAINEERING
chance all round, the overly excitable tannoy announcer counted down and set us off. We all started running and that was the last we saw of team marine and Lambie. I’d like to say forever but as it turned out, just until the next afternoon. The race starts with skis and boots strapped to packs and wearing trainers to run out of Zermatt to wherever the snow was that year. Well, that year, there was sod all snow. From Zermatt at 1600m, we ran up to the first checkpoint at Furi (1860m), then west to Ober Stafel (2180m). After about 10km of running the trainers were ditched (they all get collected and given to charities) and the ski boots went on. Even then there was still a few ‘K’ of boot packing over moraine and collapsing graupel before we found snow. Eventually the skis went on and we started skinning up wind scoured hard pack. We’d opted to leave the crampons behind, all in the name of fast and light. At Schonbiel all teams rope up. As the terrain got steeper and kick turns tighter, teams were crossing ropes, tripping over each other and general carnage ensued. There’s a short but steep, rope assisted boot pack at Stockji (3140m) to nip up onto the glacier proper. From there, it was head-down into the wind, up to the summit of Tete Blanche (3650m).
Now would be a good time to chat about team dynamics. Pete is one of the most experienced and capable people
I’ve ever skied with. Over the previous training camp and the race camp we’d all learned a hell of a lot from him. He has been the main driving force behind skimo in the military. As you can imagine, he is massively driven and passionate, and by his own admission, gets a bit shouty. Bitter experience had taught him that every second counts and any faffing can lead to a team getting timed out and binned from the race. Bruce had recently recovered from a chest infection and it’s fair to say, the altitude was giving him a right royal shoeing. As we gained altitude and the temperature dropped, we stopped and chucked jackets over the Lycra. The terrain steepened and our pace dropped. The wind got up and we weren’t moving fast enough to keep warm. Bruce had asked for a bit of a rest so he could reduce his breathing requirement to a single orifice. It was at that point, at -25 degrees Celsius (with windchill), I realised I couldn’t feel my ‘little soldier’. Now started the faff. Cold, tired and emasculated, I faffed around trying to get windproof trousers over ski boots whilst Pete was getting impatient and shouty. With visions of a low budget version of 157 hours, except with something more important than an arm getting lopped off, I shouted back “I’m not losing my c*** to the PDG!” A bit dramatic, granted, and I don’t want any more kids, but that ain’t the way. Pete was right though, we didn’t have time to mess about.
Dropping down off the Tete Blanche we found the only patch of reasonable snow on the whole course. Another little ascent from the Glacier du Mont Mine (3190m) to the Col de Bertol (3260m) where there was a steep descent to the Plan Bertol (2660). The majority of the descent was on wind scoured, refrozen crud. Again, the snow being conspicuous in its absence, we found ourselves running the best part of 5km in ski boots down moraine, and then track, into Arolla but at least it was getting light which made the world a slightly better place. We were aware that the cut off time was uncomfortably close but assumed that with the conditions so lean and so many people still behind us on the course, they wouldn’t be enforcing them. We eventually arrived in the feeding zone in Arolla, the halfway point. We saw Joe, KY and Paul, and had a natter until they set off. Tom arrived at the checkpoint just before the timer ticked over the cut
The lift down the valley
off. Ibbs and Louise crossed 9 seconds later. I know they’re into clocks but in a display of the most Swiss thing ever to happen, Tom, Ibbs and Louise were told they (and everyone behind them) had been DQ’d for missing the cut off. After all the time, effort and personal sacrifice to get to this point, it was devastating. If they’d missed it by half an hour, it would have been easier to take but a split call sign 9-seconds apart left them reeling with ‘what ifs’. It also dawned on our team that we had just gone from respectable mid table, to flat last.
The climb out of Arolla is up the piste. It was frozen solid and we struggled for friction on the corduroy. We’d descended to 1985m and as we worked our way up to the next col, we started to split up. Bruce was still suffering from the altitude and to compound that, Pete’s encourage- ment hadn’t gone down well, so Bruce got sad too. Not a combination conducive to staying motivated. Bruce agreed to go on tow and we set off. Pete’s efforts digging out to keep us going earlier in the night started to show and he began dropping off the back. So, Bruce in turn put Pete on tow, acutely aware that the next cut off loomed. I got my head down and got on with it which would have been fine had it not been for the incessant drone of the Thomas the Tank Engine theme tune going round my head. We shunted into the next control point at Combe du Pas de Chevres (2740m) where the fat controller
Pete and Miles following the roped descent
48 / ARMY MOUNTAINEER