First Tracks

It has been a niggle in my side for many years now that I’ve never skied in Switzerland. In many ways, it’s the opposite of the Rockies where I grew up – there’s more history, more culture, and more ways to get down the mountain than we Canadians seem to know about. For my first winter trip to Valais, I was in for a real treat.

ALETSCH ARENA

We started our winter adventure in a place I love to mountain bike, the Aletsch Arena. Bettmeralp is a magical, car-free place, the village itself only accessed by gondola. In the winter, the main streets of the small town are groomed snow, where skiers slalom past, families pull kids and dogs in sleds, and the workers drive in snow-tracked ATVs to cart luggage for hotel guests over the snow. It’s quite the scene.

I haven’t donned my skis yet this winter, and I’m desperate to get going. We leave our luggage at the hotel, put on our kit, and I click into my skis right outside the hotel door, to float down through the village to the first high-speed chairlift of the day.

At the top of Moosfluh is the famous viewpoint of the Great Aletsch Glacier, the largest glacier in mainland Europe. I’ve seen it a few times in summer, but never on a bluebird winter day. With the extra snow, the great mass of ice sparkles in the valley below. We learn that the chairlift that took us up the mountain is built with mind-blowing Swiss engineering to literally move with the glacier as it ebbs every season, an incredible feat of working with nature.

I take my fill of the viewpoint but I can’t hold it in any longer – I need to ski! The runs at Aletsch Arena are described as ‘family friendly’, and the open mountain with mostly blues and reds is the perfect warmup to get my ski legs back after a slow season at home. By the time the lifts close in the afternoon and the crew all gather at the apres-ski rendezvous in the village, I’m overflowing with joy.

SAAS-FEE/SAASTAL

I’ll admit, I’m a little grumpy today. We’re not going skiing. Reluctantly, I shuffle into a gondola with our crew and guides, watching skiers with huge powder ski sets getting into the bubbles ahead of us, wishing I could be them. But my mood quickly improves. At the top, we strap on snowshoes, and soon walk right off the ski piste and onto the glacier. Our group is divided into two sub-groups with ropes and harnesses keeping us all, hopefully, out of trouble and specifically the deep crevasses that our expert lead guide navigates us around. After a good morning walk, enjoying the superpower that snowshoes give us in the fresh powder, we arrive at our destination: a glistening blue ice wall. Snowshoes are swapped for crampons, and I’m first on the wall. It’s a thrill to ice climb in such a setting, at high altitude on a Swiss Alp. My world narrows to the edges of my ice axes and the leverage of my crampons while I crawl vertically up the clean, natural ice. The colours, shades of blues and whites and grays, blend in the thick ice and mesmerise me entirely.

Everyone gets a turn on the wall, and the photography crew are carefully assured of safe spots to stand to get the shot – one wrong step, and you’re in a crevasse. Despite the deep cold, waiting under the shadow of our climbing wall, I can’t help but sit back in the snow, looking up at the clear sky, relaxing entirely into the pure pleasure of just being outside, no matter the sport. (okay, I still wanted to ski down).

We return to the village of Saas-Fee and are handed our tickets – we’re going out tonight. The UIAA Ice Climbing Worldcup & European Championships are in town, and it’s Speed Night.

For a world championship event, it’s surprisingly low-key, even old school. It’s held in a parking lot. I can’t get my head around that fact until I see why: the parking lot ramp winds around like a corkscrew for ten storeys, and the various climbing courses are constructed in the column in the middle, while fans can watch from every level. The music is loud, and the excitement is palpable. In the centre of the makeshift arena on the ground level is the staging area, where athletes wearing their national colours are warming up.

I’ll admit I get pretty swept away in the excitement of the women’s event, cheering loudly as they scramble like ice spiders up the vertical wall, and joining the crowd in a heartfelt ‘ahh’ when an athlete falls off the wall (they are expertly belayed, don’t worry).

In Valais, even the parking lots are awesome.

GORNERGRAT RAILWAY

We move on to the charming centre of Zermatt and head to the small station that hosts the famous Gornergrat Railway. It is, once again, an impressive feat of Swiss engineering. As long ago as 1898, it opened as Switzerland’s first electric cogwheel railway, and takes passengers nearly 1,500 vertical metres up to Gornergrat summit, operating year-round thanks to its own snow-clearing system.

That sunny-days-average comes in handy this morning: we’re absolutely spoiled with views of the Matterhorn and the Monte Rosa massif. At the top, the train rolls into the snowy summit platform, where skiers depart quickly, hotel guests make the last few steps to Kulmhotel, the highest hotel in the Swiss Alps, and our camera crew fuss over the picture-perfect little train that glides so silently up such a steep mountain.

Our morning agenda features a lovely, snowy walk on a dedicated hiking path that takes us down from Rotenboden to the Riffelhaus, or better known as the Lucy Walker Stube. The first woman to summit the Matterhorn in 1871, Lucy Walker did not receive her due accolades in the deeply sexist Victorian era, so it’s with immense pride that the Riffelhaus shares her achievements, including dresses and mountaineering gear of hers in display cases outside of the restaurant. The food is also extremely good, and as we dine, I look out the window at the looming Matterhorn, trying to imagine getting all the way up there wearing Victorian ladies’ garb. She truly is an inspiration, still to this day.

LEUKERBAD

I’m happy – we’re back on skis! The Torrent ski area features challenging slopes and more moderate (camera friendly) ones, and we’re on the first lift up to catch those all-important first tracks of the day. When I’m downhill skiing, my mind is clear. There is only the slope, the sound of the powder making way for my skis, my muscles working to make the edge, and the thrill of gaining speed as I hurl down the run. Perhaps not ‘hurl’ relative to a local skier, but it feels fast, and that’s what matters most.

After an incredible morning of runs, we try something very new to me: a velogemmel. Picture this: a wooden bike, but without wheels or brakes, only sleds and a basic ability to turn. I do love cycling, but I’ll admit I was skeptical.

Not for long. What fun! On the dedicated velogemmel route, we raced our wooden steeds, laughing like kids on a snow day the whole way down. I can’t believe the velogemmel isn’t a more popular sport. If anyone reading this works at Strava, why isn’t it an activity option yet?

From the thrill of skiing to the novelty of velogemmel to my comfort zone, we head to the Gemmi Pass for some late afternoon trail running around a frozen lake. I pull running traction devices over my trail shoes, and I’m off. The Gemmi area features groomed trails for hiking, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing, and of course, trail running. Far away from the piste, the village, and the gondolas is a quiet, serene winter wonderland where the only noise I can hear is my laboured breathing and my footsteps in the soft snow. It’s slightly harder to run on snow, with the extra effort of each foot strike sinking in slightly, but I’ve always found it one of the purest joys to be had in movement. I only stop when I hear Ellie, the camera operator, crash into a snowbank after she tried running while focusing only on her gimbal. Poor thing.

NENDAZ

Nendaz has over 400km of ski runs. I still can’t quite get my head around that. Naturally, I’m chomping at the bit to get to the ski lifts as early as possible to try and cover as much of that ground as I can. I’m feeling a little more confident today, after getting my legs under me so far, and I’m keen to explore. Fresh snow has fallen, and in the ungroomed areas, powder is nearly knee-deep. We have a saying in Canada: ‘no mates on a pow day’. I explain this to the (British) crew as a way of excusing myself for taking off down some black runs, promising to meet them at the base of Mont Fort later on.

Because, of course, we have another activity to try: ziplining. I’ve never done this in winter, and I’m mainly just scared that my face will get really cold, rather than fearing the 100kph speed I’ll be hurtling at, high above the ski runs. From the departure station at 3,330m altitude, the skiers on the pistes below look like little ants, all moving by way of curving turns down the mountain. I am distracting myself with this high altitude people-watching while the zipline operator does his final checks, and, with a heart-dropping lurch, I’m set free, flying through the frozen air from the top of Mont Fort.

Happily, I find my skis where I left them at the station below, and clip back into my bindings for a more grounded afternoon of powder skiing. We eke ‘full value’ out of the day, riding until the lifts close, and then we have a very special night planned – dinner outside!

The bisse trails in Nendaz make for excellent hiking and trail running in the warmer seasons, but in January, lit by our headtorches, they are serene night walks. We hike along the frozen trail until we find the dedicated picnic area, and proceed to make a campfire, right there in the snow. Our guide, Emilie Mariethoz, has brought half of a raclette wheel with her, and we’re going to do this the old fashioned way. The cheese is propped near the flames of our campfire, and when the surface bubbles with heat, its time to use the special raclette knife to simply glide off a portion of melted ‘Alpine Gold’. Served with fresh bread and local wine, sat in the snow next to the fire, is the finest dining I could ever ask for.

REGION DENTS DU MIDI

It’s our last day, and there’s only one last winter sport I’m itching for. In the Region Dents du Midi region there is a Rando-Parc, where ski tourers can enjoy skinning up the mountain safely on sanctioned and waymarked trails. I meet Laura and we snake our way through the quiet forest, enjoying the grip of touring skins on the base of our skis. Another thing we say in Canada: ‘earn your turns’. By putting in the effort to get up the mountain, the ski turns you put in on the way down are truly that much sweeter.

And we earned quite a lot of turns. The Region Dents du Midi – Portes du Soleil ski area is one of the largest I’ve ever been to in my life. Combined with the French border, marked only by a small sign on the piste and my phone buzzing in my pocket to let me know I’ve changed service areas, we seamlessly slide across Les Portes du Soleil.

Later, somehow I find myself getting strapped in for another zipline. The wonderfully named Fantasticable is designed to give users the epic feeling of flying, by sending you face-first along the cable at speeds of up to 100kph. I’m a bit more nervous this time, particularly when I get hoisted up in the rather undignified position, but as soon as the brakes let go and I start flying down the zipline, I’m at total ease. It’s a lovely way to see the mountains.

APRÉS SKI

In Champery, we end our trip with aprés ski at the guides’ bar. We’re knackered and I think everyone in the team has had their nerves tested by the various ways to get up and down mountains in the winter time. Skiing is still my favourite, naturally, but I’m so grateful to have been able to have so many adventures all inside the Valais region. They truly know how to do winter right!