TV Blog: The Great Movement Toward Performance Gear

Skiing – no matter the discipline – has long evolved toward more rigid gear.  Skiers of the alpine style saw their boots turn from leather to plastic in the 1960s, the first step in a progression toward lighter, higher performance materials as the decades wore on.  From leathers on clamp-down bindings to the carbon/grilamid footwear of today, alpine boots have modernized markedly.

Even snowboarding has entered this realm, with companies like Phantom Snow developing plastic, hard boots for snowboarding tuned for touring and descent.  Their home page beckons onlookers to “Join the Revolution.”  And in many ways a revolution more rigid gear indeed has been, bringing more responsive, higher performing gear to the downhill snowsports fold.

Telemark skiing has been subject to this same evolution.  Whether through more broadly adapted advents like carbon skis, or those more insulated free-heel innovations like the new telemark norm and its more leveraged skiing sensation, telemark skiing – especially the iteration that tackles the resort or bigger mountain objectives – has moved along the same lines.

Telemark’s biggest move toward this paradigm has been much the same as alpine’s, albeit a generation later, when the first all-plastic telemark boot – Scarpa’s Terminator – was unveiled in 1992. Since that time free-heel skiing has not only left its funky, technique-heavy leather roots, but has enjoyed a level of functionality that could have never been possible before.  Not only does modern telemark gear allow features like ski brakes and (not always guaranteed) releasability, but the modern gear – from boots, to bindings and skis – has allowed a level of skiing prowess that allows the telemark skier to tackle objectives with speed, aggressiveness, and dexterity in a way unthinkable before.

Still, deep in the recesses of the sport, mostly amongst an old cadre whose vibe is becoming more background radiation than operative movement, a quiet voice asks where the line is. While their grand question is often misinterpreted as resentful nostalgia, at its core their query is fundamental to the free-heel experience:  Can a point come – especially in something with so much sensation as telemark – where the evermore rigid gear begins to take the feeling away?  As higher performance becomes more the objective, and its strong, rigid power becomes the norm, is something as soft and ephemeral as nuance and aura lost?  

Much like the telemark turn, it’s a balancing act.  Without our stiff boots, our strong skis, our rigid bindings, we would be left flailing on the gear of yesteryear – though many may see that standard as halcyon, and instead of floundering they would dance.

So where is the line? When does the rigidity render the turn inelastic and brutalized?

At what point is the skier being counterproductive by holding onto their old gear and ethos?

A single answer to this query is certainly impossible. Though its ramifications on the principles of the sport are no less important.