Was Telemark More Relevant When It Was Dead?
Look around, and you will see it. Free-heel rippers are again sending airs and rails in the park; the tele-hate of the previous generation has all but abated. And most of the Phish fans finally went home (well, not me yet).
Jokes aside, something has indeed changed of late in telemark skiing. After years of little movement in the sport and its commerce, Scarpa’s long-awaited modern boots are here, and donned by many, while stronger participation has prompted makers to bring more bindings to the fold. Even freetour darling ATK is poised to jump back into telemark. It seems us free-heel pontificators can finally retire the endless debate on what might bring The Turn modern redemption; give the banter on what heady melange of factors could bring telemark back a rest. Because it’s here.
But as telemark sees a new dawn, it seems there might be something missing. As apostate as it may sound, telemark’s previous era–what amounted to something of a free-heel dark age–had a certain je ne sais quoi that paradoxically may have made it more relevant even than the modern, Instagramable moment the sport now finds itself in.
For a short history lesson on recent skiing lore, for years, and for what seemed like all intents and purposes, telemark skiing–in culture and craft–was dead. After decades of enjoying the perception of being the gear for the backcountry, nary a soul seemed to be genuflecting on snow any longer. And the mainstream ski world seemed to revel in the fact. From barstool to liftline, the demise of The Turn was proclaimed, declared, even celebrated, chanted as refrain in the many tele-jokes repeated to the faces of free-heelers both young and (mostly) old.
Of course that was all oversimplification and hyperbole. Free-heel skiing indeed entered a protracted doldrums in the aughts as the telemark-as-top-backcountry-gear notion died on the Dynafit vine. And this particular version of the sport found a unique irrelevance when the wider ski culture grew impatient with the apparently overly dogmatic pinner. But it hardly meant the most ancient form of skiing had succumbed. Below the surface, far from the purview of the no one cares you tele repeaters, things were perhaps quieter in the telemark realm, but the threadbare scene remained vibrant, even enjoying a sort of mellow golden age.
That didn’t stop a mainstream skiing hivemind from turning a blind eye to what was actually happening in telemark. From the reality-TV aughts to just recently, tele ire even attained a sort of chic status. New transplants to ski towns who had never seen a lunging turn caught on quickly, repeating the staid jokes of the day just as quickly as they bought Hellbents, all to fit in. Lock the heel, ski for real; How do you know a telemark skier, they’ll tell you! all those CMC kids spouted.
Even the Jaded Local joined the fray. Hans Ludwig’s 2017 POWDER article “Telemark Skiing is Dead” (which ran in print under the title “RIP: Telemark”) remains a seminal moment in the free-heel retrograde. While Ludwig made astute observations (his note that his “favorite theory is that by trying to become equivalent in performance to alpine gear, telemarking rationalized itself out of existence” remains poignant) he also claimed that “there is no new gear of note,” neglecting the new telemark norm and the ascendance of tech-toe telemark bindings, both of which had emerged years earlier.
But to Ludwig and his panel of mostly ex- and contrarian telemark skiers–and to the rest of the ski world–telemark indeed seemed to be over. Regardless of its now annoyingly ironic meaning, even TGR’s main free-heel forum thread is to this day called ‘telemark skiing is dead.’
But telemark–even at its supposed nadir–enjoyed a different, even rarified kind of relevancy. Little concerned with a mainline ski discourse that had sworn them off, and left to their own devices by the big brands that proved to be only fairweather friends, the remaining free-heelers doubled-down, kept lunging, homebrewed their own gear, and stayed the course. For one reason and one reason alone; not for any mainstream cachet nor cash-based glory. It came from passion, and passion alone.
In this melange, new and innovative gear was conceived by crafty free-heel DIYers, some of which is now available at retail through established manufacturers. Tech toe telemark bindings? The DIYers did that first, squarely in telemark’s Dark Ages. Light, modern telemark touring boots? First frankensteined by handy home tinkerers not long after. That same DIY scene continues to innovate, quietly ushering the sport and its gear onward in the same modest but impactful ways it did during telemark’s ebb.
Moreover, the ideal that telemark was for subpar skiers—better known as an “excuse to suck,” another long-standing favorite of the tele detractors–itself became obsolete as the most diehard free-heelers stuck it out during the sport’s contraction. “Free heel skiing is very much alive and well, albeit in numbers at a mere fraction of the ‘revival’ that peaked decades ago,” eminent ski chronicler Lou Dawson wrote on his WildSnow blog in 2018, smack in the middle of telemark’s supposed decline. “In my view, the positive aspect of this is that the skiers I see telemarking are the hardest of the hardcore. No more linked fall amusement. Instead, these guys and gals have it down. They’re fun to watch, fun to ski with.”
But something interesting has happened of late; telemark skiing is indeed back. Film tours and a stylish new school have instigated a rising, modern vibe in telemark. And new equipment has emerged that, while not coming to market at the same clip as it did in decades prior, marks the most meaningful update to free-heel gear in years. Even the tele-ire ubiquitous a half generation hence seems to have evaporated as quickly as it began. All told, telemark has left life in the shadows for a new form that may even emerge as more relatable, perhaps even adjacent to the wider skiing movement.
But no matter how contrarian it might seem, telemark may have been more vibrant in its quieter, more transgressive form when it was weird and forgotten.
Perhaps many may find this sentiment gatekeeping, degenerative, and anti-progress; a symptom of a curmudgeonly and staid telemark old guard. And tele indeed struggles with that. The scene’s fitful evolution has been marked by a small but palpable opposition between those striving to move forward and those critical of it, all playing out publicly on social media.
A revitalized telemark culture is surely not a bad thing. But tenets like subversion, independence, and celebrating the funky aspects of life have long been core to the telemark spirit. And these long-standing ideals were leaned on–and perhaps grew stronger–during telemark’s long moment away from the mainstream. While growth may bring assets untold to the free-heel method in vibrancy and gear demand, the more intangible parts of telemark philosophy seem endangered as the allure of mainline skiing’s cool factor and tactileness re-acquaint themselves with a now trendier telemark scene.
Alas, telemark may yet be immune from any form of bastardization. To this day, and no matter its rising cachet, telemark has long attracted those looking for a tougher turn that grants a longer sweet spot. It remains subversive, genuine, and modest. The new guard is full of cat-loving eccentrics, and of course, has its own tinkerers. While some of their juvenile ranks bring a certain ‘tude to the fold, the kids are indeed alright.
Still, telemark’s long retrograde isn’t merely a time to move away from; it shows us in retrospect that it isn’t the cultural assets nor cachet that makes a community what it is. All it takes is a few passionate devotees to keep something going. And while that approach may grant little wider appeal, it holds a silver lining, insulating the pursuit from the mandates that come with an ascending culture; a salve against becoming too cool and instead focusing on the soul of the pursuit.
And may telemark always embody that.