Light skis, boots, and bindings
The myriad meanings of an adjective.
- Author: Claudio Primavesi
- Photographer: Nicola Damonte
An adjective speaks a thousand words. Yet in the profusion of new terminology driven by modern marketing, and swift turnover of styles and attitudes that follow season after season, we risk losing sight of the essence of the meaning—the one that transcends the hype. The Light category is almost as old as the Buyer's Guide itself. Initially we called it Light Touring, then one year we split it in two, with slightly heavier equipment marked with a ‘+’ after the adjective. But it's always been there. Except that in the meantime, the world has moved on, and numerous new products have been added to the category. The original meaning hasn’t changed, but it’s certainly become much more nuanced. Because over time, the term Light has taken on different meanings. Which correspond to an equally diverse range of adopters.
An adjective speaks a thousand words. Yet in the profusion of new terminology driven by modern marketing, and swift turnover of styles and attitudes that follow season after season, we risk losing sight of the essence of the meaning—the one that transcends the hype.
I was reflecting on this while leafing through past editions of the Buyer's Guide, and at the same time, I came across the term used to define this class in the catalog of a well-known brand: speed touring. Speed: it’s the clear common denominator that unites all practitioners of the world of lightweight touring, and helps clarify what underlies their apparently different characters. What do a former competition skier—who brings elements of racing to the backcountry and seeks to clock up as much vertical as possible—have in common with a mountain guide seeking a lighter tool to tackle longer missions? And what do those whose touring is fitness focused, who skin up next to the piste, enjoy a polenta lunch at the top hut, and then ski down on-piste, have in common with a steep skier? What can we say about fifty- and sixty-year-olds who are seeking to dial back the exertion and are willing to accept compromises in downhill performance (which in any case requires more strength and ski structure to achieve) so they don’t finish the day exhausted? Ultimately, what does a super-strong tourer who can happily devour 3,000 m of ascent have in common with someone seeking an edge to help them hit their standard target of 1000 m of vert?
What unifies all these characters is speed, meaning speed on the skin track. Not merely as an end in itself. You go faster to rack up more vertical (or more peaks and multiple reascents). You go faster to stay in shape. You go faster to reach the drop-in to a couloir quicker, to have less weight rappelling, and to climb a couloir with your skis stowed on your pack quicker. You go faster to reduce risk by getting up and down before visibility deteriorates or bad weather sets in. Maybe they don’t realize it, but even the sixty-year-olds seeking to hit their 1000 m ascent target are not only expending less energy, but are also moving faster than when hauling up a pair of 1500 g skis. Couple that with the need to keep up with a fitter friend, and here too speed is the name of the game. They’ll be fine on the downhill because they’re seasoned campaigners, and above all, their legs will thank them.
Yet, over and above any issue of weight and speed, for us it’s still ultimately about a philosophy of life. Minimal frills—everything you need and nothing more. One-touch (or nearly so) boot mechanisms, few buckles (or, why not, a Boa mech?), and clean lines. Skis that don't overdo the rocker profile and early rise. Bindings that assist transitions and reascents, that keep things simple, meaning also no ski brakes.
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