Skiing Europe's Haute Route

Article by: Kari Lundgren, July 2008

Mountain guides love to tell horror stories. Broken limbs, helicopter rescues, a sudden plunge into a crevasse concealed by seductive layers of freshly fallen snow: the mountaineer describes each with bone-chilling relish, leaving the superstitious among us scrambling for our protective talismans.

Sitting across from the man who would lead us over 3,000m alpine passes and across 130kms of glacial snow and ice, it dawned on me that skiing the Haute Route from Chamonix, France, to Zermatt, Switzerland, was a more serious undertaking than Google had led me to believe. Crampons? Ice axes? Avalanche beacons? I still hadn't mastered the bindings on my new alpine touring skis.

Coming to the end of another tale of disaster-barely-averted, our guide concluded with a grin, 'But what's the worst that can happen?'

Crampons? Ice axes? Avalanche beacons? I still hadn't mastered the bindings on my new alpine touring skis.

Pioneered on foot by a band of Englishmen in 1861 and completed on skis 50 years later, the route winds its way through the heart of the Alps. It heads eastwards from the base of Mont Blanc, Western Europe's highest peak, and finishes in the unmistakeable shadow of the Matterhorn. In total, it ascends and descends almost 20,000m, crosses some 20 glaciers and meanders through France, Italy and Switzerland. Along the way, skiers traverse slopes wiped clean of human tracks and make their way through passes whose ornate names - Col du Chardonnet, Col des Ecandies and Pas du Chat - form grand, smooth arcs across the map.

Though the tour can be completed in under 24 hours - the record for the 53km stretch between Zermatt and Verbier, a popular racing route, is 6 hours, 18 minutes and 48 seconds - most skiers take about five days, sleeping in high mountain huts and tailoring their plans to the weather and snow conditions. The huts offer simple dorm-style accommodations, meals and, if you're lucky, showers. Booking in advance is recommended. During the high season (April through May) up to 100 haute routers can be found at any given hut, preparing route plans, hovering over the weather forecast or sipping steaming cups of spiced Glüwein.

The scene before us - a serene grey-blue expanse of glacier known as the Plateau du Triente, rimmed by peaks tinged pale pink by the morning sun - provided the first view of the unparalleled scenes that lay ahead.

With the proper gear, careful planning and clear weather, the Haute Route is as safe and achievable as any backcountry skiing trip. It is physically demanding, however - an average day involves 5 hours of skiing carrying a 14kg pack and is likely to burn between 4,000 and 6,000 calories - and skiers need to be comfortable skiing both off piste and down advanced (black diamond-rated) slopes. Going with a guide isn't required, but if you're uncomfortable navigating your way through a whiteout or rappelling down a mountainside, a guide is the way to go. Even if you're confident in your mountaineering skills, a good guide can be an invaluable source of local knowledge.

Like any significant alpine adventure, the route comes complete with its own vocabulary and myths. 'Puder luder' is used to describe skiers fond of powder snow, skiing an especially difficult slope is known as 'schralping the gnar' and French guides are said to complete the tour on a diet of Gauloises cigarettes, espresso and the occasional can of Coca Cola. But perhaps the greatest myth of the Haute Route is that there is only one way to do it. In fact, there are many variations from the original 1911 route, allowing skiers to lengthen their tour or avoid trails made hazardous by high winds or avalanches. Our plan was to do one of the most popular and direct tours known as the Verbier variation, beginning in Chamonix and ending in Zermatt six days later.

After spending the first day in weather that resembled nothing so much as the inside of a ping pong ball, barely able to see one another, let alone the mountains around us, waking up to clear skies on day two was a welcome relief. Though the valley below was still shrouded in clouds, the scene before us - a serene grey-blue expanse of glacier known as the Plateau du Triente, rimmed by peaks tinged pale pink by the morning sun - provided the first view of the unparalleled scenes that lay ahead.

For five days we glided along in a quiet line, pausing only to dab sunscreen on peeling noses and shift our gear from climbing- to downhill-skiing mode. We would arrive sweaty and ravenous at the next hut on our route, wolf down enormous platters of Spaghetti Bolognese or potato rösti, then curl up for a nap in the sun. We would be sent on our way with miniature bottles of pear schnapps and forced to detour to avoid high winds. On our last day, after seeing two groups abandon the final leg of the journey because low visibility appeared to block the way, we watched the clouds lift in a matter of minutes to reveal the ideal conditions to complete our tour.

Just under seven hours later, we skied across the Col du Valpelline and came face to face with the Matterhorn. At that point, I decided that the 'worst that could happen' was that I couldn't turn right around and do it all again.