LAST BUT NOT LEAST

Alf Alderson finds himself ‘accidentally’ taking part in a ski touring race in Switzerland

The summit of 2,833-metre Oberalstock in the Bernese Oberland is the kind of place where it’s worth hanging about on a sunny spring day; the views encompass a magnificent glaciated panorama and when I was there we even had the obligatory sea of cloud rolling and tumbling beneath us.
But if you’ve inadvertently got yourself mixed up in a ski touring race to the top of said peak you can’t really hang about too long…
I was part of a two-man team that had stumbled upon the Susten Derby almost by accident, thanks to an e mail from contacts in the local tourism office inviting me to attend (they were clearly under the illusion that I know something about skiing and strenuous effort; the former perhaps so, the latter most definitely not).
But from the comfort of your armchair these things seem a far better idea than they do from the discomfort of a pair of ski touring boots, so I’d agreed to go along in partnership with my mate Simon, who had also jumped at the chance when I forwarded the e mail on to him.
Unfortunately he hadn’t actually read the e mail in full, as will become apparent…but back to the top of the Oberalstock for now.
For your averagely fat – sorry, fit – middle-aged bloke like me it’s a three-hour, 1100-metre slog on climbing skins to get up here from the Susten Derby start point at the Steingletscher Hotel on Sustenpass.
The event is a very inclusive out and back ‘race’ which anyone is welcome to attend. The majority of entrants take part in a ‘fun’ race (there’s a ’serious’ category for keen amateurs although as far as I’m aware no pro racers were in attendance) which involves kids, families, skiers, snowboarders and incompetent, ill-prepared buffoons, a category reserved exclusively for the only two British entrants – us.
How else to describe a ‘team’ one half of which has never used ski touring gear before? When he received my e mail Simon had assumed it was an invite to watch the race rather than take part in it, only discovering his error after I’d registered us to compete.
That said at least Simon trains on a regular basis; my idea of training for the Susten Derby was walking the dog and a couple of mountain bike rides the week before along with regular recreational skiing above my gaff in the French Alps.
So it was that we arrived at the 7.30am start point full of trepidation – and bemusement. The bemusement came from the organisers’ incredibly relaxed approach to the whole thing – one would normally expect the Swiss to be masters of organisation, precision and timekeeping, but we were allowed to start as and when we pleased.
Fine by us, the less pressure the better. After all, it took us almost five minutes to get Simon’s boots into his Dynafit bindings before we set off. Five minutes later they were out again on the first steep section of the course due to never having been ‘in’ properly in the first place.
Second time round we got it right, and the long walk to free-heeldom continued. Since our only ambition in the derby was not to come in any worse a position than last we made a leisurely ascent, stopping regularly to try to breathe normally/take in the views/eat large quantities of chocolate until eventually we emerged into the morning sun and we became aware of just why we were here.
It wasn’t to challenge for the prizes, naturally (most of our fellow competitors were now little more than black dots on the far and high horizon); it was to immerse ourselves in the perverse pleasure that is ski touring.
There’s a sense of satisfaction about ascending a mountain under your own steam that a ski lift can never provide – the fabled ‘earn your turns’ philosophy that underpins so much of ski touring has a lot to recommend it, even if it does cause discomfort, blisters and excessive perspiration.
By the time we reached the summit of Oberalstock (the climb took three hours Nicola – I say so in par 6!) the sun was beating down with intensity and the derby marshals’ advice to enjoy the view was followed to the full – so much so that half an hour later they had to remind us for the third time that we needed to ski back down. Now! If you don’t mind (this was Switzerland, after all).
It’s here that Simon, for all his befuddlement earlier in the day, proved his mettle; I hadn’t realised we were being timed on our descent (it seems the time for the ascent wasn’t that important), which shows remarkable levels of stupidity considering this was, after all, a competitive event.
Consequently he set off down the 1100-metre descent like Bode Miller, although I’m think it may have been more from desperation to get out of painful boots asap rather than break any speed records.
I on the other hand approached the descent in more leisurely fashion, stopping to take photos, adjust clothing and try and pick my way across breakable crust without major mishap. Fortunately the conditions eventually transmogrified into creamy smooth spring snow allowing me to slice big, leisurely arcs across the slopes.
None of this was the action of a man looking to win, of course, so I do have some excuse for coming very, very well down the field in my first ever Susten Derby. My dithering around saw me take twenty minutes to complete a decent that the serious competitors managed in around three; that said, I wasn’t a complete embarrassment to Queen and country – some of the local competitors were slower than me by a good ten minutes.
But then it was never about the racing, for it seems the Swiss have one thing in common with us Brits when it comes to sport – it’s not about the winning, it’s about the taking part.
And the best thing of all is I know I can go back and do the Susten Derby again and never have a worse place finish…
The Susten Derby is held every April, starting from the Susten Pass above Meiringen www.sustenderby.ch