Silvretta Traverse – Day 1

The trip starts in one town, and ends in another a few kilometers up the road. So we parked at the finish and rode a convenient ski bus down to the start, where the cable ride was purchased.

We stayed at the Barthels last night. This is Cato, Manfred Barthel's beast. Cato wanted this trip badly, I could tell by the way he gnawed on my leg. Sorry Cato, you'll have to sit this one out. Kerasote is of course a best selling book author, and the book happens to be about dogs, so Cato made an immediate friend.

Our route from the resort climbed over this easy saddle then descended down to the Heidelberger Hut. The dots indicate choices for tomorrow to continue the traverse. Today a bit mundane, but the perfect start when you're still a bit jet lagged and been autobahning all morning. Besides, the first day of any ski tour in the Alps is a high no matter what. Spiked summits rise up in the distance, with big alpine cliffy things more spread out than is normal for places like the Rockies. In a word, vast. You have to work hard in Colorado or Wyoming to reach places where you can't see a tree for miles. Here, you ride cable for a few minutes, hike a little longer -- and the alpine is your world.

Ted at the saddle, or 'joch' as they seem to be termed.

Passport can remain stowed when you cross the border here, though they do have a sign indicating Austria.

The skiing was great. Not exactly corn snow, but a firm pack with sun softened creamy surface that skied us to the front door of the hut.

Carrying a computer, however small, kinda blew my Black Diamond Alias backpack packing system. I borrowed a stuffsack from the Barthels and rigged this classic NOLS style sack and lash system to haul some extra swag. Not exactly the 'shovel and cell phone' system of a true Alps ski touring expert, but you run what you brung.

Ted at the Heidelberger front door. As huts go this one is of average quality, meaning quite nice. Our room had the classic continuous bunks, with what must have been about fourteen souls crashing out. I thought I got a good night's sleep, but this morning a couple of people in the room asked me if I was okay. Turned out I was waking everyone up with my shouting and moaning. Ted said I got so bad he thought CPR might have been required. Talk about embarrassing! And there I was with the ear plugs to block out all the other noisy sleepers -- and I'm the worst! Must have been those little white pills. Sure felt like a good night's sleep, even if the hut spirit did have his hands around my throat half the night. I'll try half a Xanax tonight, and it's a private room. The nine hours of log sawing was good though, other than the dream about sawing off my right hand...

And here is the serendipity. Ted and I are calmly sipping brewskis with me tapping away on the Acer. Then I hear this voice, 'LOU, IS THAT YOU?' And there is Susie Sutphin, who worked for Couloir Magazine for a while back when, along with her friends Dan and Janine Patitucci and Andres Irsada, doing a Smartwool photo shoot. What better place for that than in the middle of the Alps! So we all hung out together, with the Patituci duo regaling us with Dolomite tales and photography adventures as Ted related the backstory of his life as a writer -- along with necessary harassment of Susie's penchant for telemarking (even though she can out ski Ted and I both going up, and down.) Quite an evening!