It is February 24th, the weather in Squamish is warm, rainy, and uninspiring, making it slightly easier to leave. I say my goodbyes to my family and stuff my overloaded ski bag in the car. The drive to the airport feels long as I try to savor some more time with Kat before my travels. The time has come; I stand at the security gate and give Kat hugs, kisses, and say goodbye for now. YVR hired a musician to play gloomy and depressing love songs near the security gate, which felt like an additional jab at my feelings. Saying goodbye is always the hardest part about traveling to Europe to race, especially when traveling alone.
This time around, things feel different. I am excited to compete in World Championships and Pierra Menta, but I can’t help but wonder why I put myself through the hassle of traveling to Europe. The financial expense, the mental strain of travel, the risk of sickness, and missing my loved ones. Is it still worth it? This is my fifth trip to Europe to race in the last four years, and I cannot help but ask myself these questions while attempting to fall asleep in my cramped airplane seat on a ten-hour flight across the pond.
After many hours of connecting (and missing connections) planes, trains, and automobiles, I arrive in Chatel, France, where I will stay for the next ten days. World Championships was actually located in Morgins, Switzerland, but I decided to stay just over the border and try to minimize my time in the beautiful but ridiculously expensive Swiss Alps. I checked into the hostel in the centre of town. It was clean, cozy, and well maintained by some very kind people. Thankfully, I booked a private room for what was to come.
Twenty-four hours later, I found myself alone in a dark room with the worst sickness I have ever experienced in my life. Brutal stomach pain, back cramping, and a high fever for 48 hours. Not to mention puking eight times until I was too dehydrated to puke anymore (likely Norovirus). Thankfully, Kat talked me through the pain on the phone, which helped me feel less alone. Why am I here again? Oh right, to race. By the third day, the sickness had passed, but I was weak and looked rather emaciated. This was certainly the most weight I had lost in my life, and none of it was intentional. Now that I could think more clearly, I focused on recovering as quickly as I could with the Vertical race coming up in three days. I also moved into a vacation rental with my teammate Kylee. Admittedly, I was excited to have some more space.
By the time the Vertical came around, I was feeling mostly recovered, say 85-90%. Good enough to race. After a long and slightly anxiety-inducing day waiting for a 6:00 pm start, I found myself at the start line with 90 other competitors. As per usual, I was given bib 85 at the very back. The only way to get a higher bib is to do more World Cups (More WC + more EU travel = broke Jessie). The gun went off, and I found myself in a frustrating conga line of slower racers with higher bibs in front of me. Eventually, I squirmed my way up and settled into a hard tempo behind a strong Italian. Within a few minutes, I began to experience bouts of dizziness, something I have not experienced. I pushed through the feelings of wanting to pass out and managed to slide into 36th place with Nick not far behind in 38th. With everything being considered and not being completely recovered, I am content with my result. I gave my best on the day but know that there is more to give.
Two days later, I lined up again. This time for the individual; one of my main winter goals. Again with a bib on the back row, I fought my way aggressively towards the chase pack. The course, while not very inspiring, suited my abilities reasonably well. Technical ascents with mogul-covered and icy descents. I made up time both on the descents and ascents, eventually settling into the top 30. On the final climb, my legs were starting to blow up. I could see that Rocco Baldini was too far ahead to catch, and my gap on my friend Tom Goth was growing. I settled in and pushed my way into the finish in 26th place. A new PR for me at World Champs. It was bittersweet to be just 20 seconds away from my goal of top 25, but I am happy with my result considering the depth at this year's World Championships.
Unfortunately, Nick and I had to drop out of the team race. Nick was feeling sick and rather delirious. After an hour, I could tell that we should pull the plug and save our energy for Pierra Menta in just four days' time.
Nick took it easy during our time in Chamonix while trying to get healthy. I got out for a couple of easy days. The highlight being a tour over Col Du Passon on a bluebird powder day with Iain Innes. Thanks to Iain’s local knowledge, we picked our way down the 2000-meter descent into Le Tour hiccup-free. It was tantalizing staring up at the enormous alpine peaks such as Les Droites, Le Chardonnet, and Mont Blanc with good snow and stability. With Pierra Menta on the horizon, it simply was not the time for a long day in the mountains at 4000 meters.
I fought off car sickness on the winding drive to Arêches-Beaufort; the arena of Pierra Menta. Thankfully, this time around it seemed like there was enough snow, unlike my experience in 2023 with Matt Ruta where stage 3 was canceled for the first time in 37 years due to high rain and extreme avalanche hazard. We picked up our bibs, checked into our room at Le Chornais.
Stage 1: On day one, the weather started out unfavorable. Sleet, snow, and rain pounded down on the start line. I couldn’t help but feel like it might be a repeat of 2023. The stage started with an 800-meter climb, half on piste and half off piste. We moved up steadily throughout the stage as the technical and poor ski quality seemed to make other teams struggle. Once in the top 15, we held our pace steady before strapping on crampons and heading up the final bootlick of the day. The weather turned out to be reasonable, and we enjoyed the ambiance of heckling spectators at the transition. After a sporty descent, we crossed the finish line in 13th place. Content with the day, I guzzled down as much salty soup and cake as my body could tolerate before skinning slowly back up to the hotel.
Le Chornais is one of four accommodation options racers have to choose from. The building is old and reminds me of a summer camp. As you walk into the dorm hallways, a whiff of barnyard hits you like a train. Perhaps goat? Maybe cows? I found this to be a mystery since there is no livestock in the building. Maybe in the past, Le Chornais served as a shelter for local livestock. The rooms are dark, crammed, and have dirty old carpets that you don’t want to touch barefoot. The wifi hardly works unless you are seated in the stairwell within a 5-meter radius. Aside from these characteristics, Le Chornais has some charm, and I can appreciate the simplicity of staying here. Wake up, eat, dress, race, eat, nap, eat, sleep, and then repeat in those steps the following day. It feels like you are being hired to consume calories and suffer in the mountains. It could be worse!
Stage 2: We drove down to the start line in Areches for what would be the longest stage. The race organizers claimed the stage to be 2900(ish) meters with a 400-meter neutral start hiking from town to the snow line. We were in for a classic Pierra Menta Sandbag. We stood in a busy parking lot freezing our asses off in heavy snow waiting for the gun to go off. We were directed not to pass the man in a high-vis vest, so the start stayed neutral. The race started, and within 30 seconds, the legend William Bon-Mardion passed the high-vis vest director and started running through town. So much for a neutral start… But, it’s William Bon-Mardion, so who is going to ask him to slow down? Not me! After 40 minutes of jogging and hiking through farmers' fields at a reasonably fast pace and watching impatient racers launch completely pointless attacks, we reached the start line. The stage began on a long, low-angled climb up a farm road. We glided along in a peloton. At the top of the first climb, Nick and I were in the top 15 and feeling strong. Through the next 45 minutes, we worked our way up, eventually settling in around 9th position. The clouds parted, giving way to incredible views of the Pierra Menta, the race's namesake mountain. Once we started the long final climb, I knew we were in the top ten and wanted things to stay that way. We caught one more team who seemed to blow up, putting us in 8th place. I clipped Nick into the tow rope and suffered up the final 500 meters of the climb. As I unclipped from the tow and started the bootpack, I knew that I had burned a few matches towing and hit a wall. Thankfully, we were near the summit. We cruised through a huge crowd of people and skied to the bottom into 8th place for the day. After a 3400-meter stage, I was proud of our finish. The best Canadian men’s stage finish to date. We dragged our carcasses back to the hotel and ate as much as we could stomach, then lay motionless until dinner.
Stage 3: The Grand Mont stage. Maybe the most iconic course in Skimo. Technical, steep, long bootpacks, crowds, and views. This stage has it all. While this was our worst performance of the 4 days, I still enjoyed every minute of it. Nick’s legs were feeling pretty blown this day, so I started to tow hard on the second climb, which seemed to help keep us together. At the top of climb two, we emerged above the clouds and skied an excellent descent with 20cm of new snow. The third climb felt like a slog, but I continued to tow hard, trying to keep us from losing too much in the GC. In typical Pierra Menta fashion, the stage was supposed to be 2300m but ended up being close to 2600 meters. As we passed the 2300m mark on the last climb, I knew we still had some elevation to gain. As we switched to bootpacking, I looked up to see the fixed lines along the Grand Mont Ridge. I couldn’t help but smile. It felt special to be in this position that I had read so much about. Unfortunately, the team just ahead of us, while fast on the non-technical terrain, were all of a sudden moving at a snail's pace trying to clip and unclip their carabiners to the fixed line. I accepted this and took the time to look around and appreciate the ambiance. Upon reaching the summit, I hastily took my crampons off, transitioned, then stuffed Nick’s crampons into his pack. I could see the legendary Italian Filippo Beccari and his teammate Bjorn had reached the transition at the same time. I knew that it would come down to the descent. I took off on the downhill, straightening through the chop, but quickly realized that I had gapped Nick and I was just wasting energy. I waited a short moment for Nick to catch up, then we made our way to the bottom with one short 50m climb in the middle. Filippo and Bjorn managed to sneak away on that climb, securing 15th position. Nick and I finished the day in 16th. Not bad and still a great day, but maybe not where we wanted to be. Thankfully, we only dropped a few places in the GC from 9th to 12th.
Stage 4: Stage four started with a high-speed skins-on descent into a long 1200-meter winding climb up to the iconic Col Du Forclaz. I skinned alongside Tom, sharing a few words and cracking a few jokes while Nick and Logan remained stuck behind another American and Spanish team not too far behind. With a few hundred meters to go before the first boot pack, I waited for Nick, clipped him into the tow, and gave a good effort to try and keep us within the top 15. Our goal for the day was to try and maintain our 12th position in the GC. I topped out the boot pack with Tom. We both clipped our partners into the tow and gave it a strong effort to the Col Du Forclaz. The four of us left the transition together and ripped the first descent. As we left for the second climb, Tom and Logan were nowhere to be seen. Moments later, I noticed Tom skiing down on one ski. Unfortunately, he had crashed, snapping his ski, but he and Logan managed to finish the stage, Tom on a borrowed ski, still within the top 30! For the final two climbs, I towed Nick as hard as I could. On the final bootpack into Col Du Forclaz, I stopped at the top to wait for Nick, who was just a few seconds behind, and to take in the crazy atmosphere. I waved my arms at the crowd, and they erupted with shouting, chainsaw engines, and smoke machines. As we ran through the final transition, I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Nick arrived at the transition, gave me his skins, then we set off on the final descent. Not to my surprise, a French duo descended with us, making for a head-to-head sprint finish. In a streak of bad luck (for the French team), one member had gotten his pole stuck in the netting 10 seconds from the finish line. We passed them, finishing 12th on the stage and securing 12th in the GC. The French duo crossed the line, and the teammate who previously had his pole stuck had a small tantrum, unnecessary but entertaining. The finish line atmosphere was pleasant. Everyone had a huge weight off their shoulders and was psyched to chat, shake hands, and congratulate each other. Thank you to Nick for being such a solid partner. I feel like when we race together we move seamlessly. Few words need to be exchanged to know what is going on and what needs to be done.
World Championships was a positive experience with a very deep field, but I cannot help but feel like the ISMF has lost the plot with shorter looped courses, highlighting only the Olympic disciplines, and not listening to many of the athletes. Pierra Menta truly embodies what Skimo is all about. Technical courses, alpine environments, and an incredible atmosphere. Pierra Menta is about sharing our love for moving efficiently with others.
As I sit in the polished and tidy Geneva Airport writing this, I realize that yes, these trips are worth it. I might even have a more clear answer as to why. If I do not try and give my best now, I am fairly certain that middle-aged Jessie will be disappointed. It feels bittersweet to leave so soon. I realize that if I want to make a serious crack at this sport, I will need to race more in Europe. Hopefully, next winter, with some better financial planning, Kat and I will be able to spend more time in Europe. We would have the privilege of settling in, truly appreciating European culture, and I could explore my potential to the fullest. Perhaps I will even be able to improve my French speaking.
Some random stats from this trip:
Trip length: 22 Days
Total Race duration: 15 Hours
Meters Gained in races: 13,510
French pastries consumed: Many!
Race results:
WC’s Vertical 36th
WC’s Individual 26th
WC’s Team Race DNF
PM Stage 1 13th
PM Stage 2 8th
PM Stage 3 16th
PM Stage 4 12th
PM GC 12th
Finances CAD (trying my very best to be frugal)
Accommodation: 890
Food: 600
Gas: 150
Race Fees
PM: 960
WC’s: 278
Flights: 1650
Train: 83
Rental Car: 300
Extras: 200
Total: 5,111 CAD
Looks like you had lots of ups and downs (literally)!