Help me save cross-country skiing from itself

Obviously if I die or sustain an injury that will slow me down

BCX ISSUE 1: KNOWN UNKNOWNS ON THE CATAMOUNT

“Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns—the ones we don't know we don't know.”

- Donald Rumsfeld, who was a dick and a pox on American governance, and who had zero redeeming qualities, except for that one time when he made this one visionary statement with unexpected but VERY welcome insights into Endurance Culture.

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Hi, Happy New Year!

In March, I’m going to thru-ski the 300-mile Catamount Trail to find out something new, and attempt to save the future of cross-country skiing from itself and Big Outdoor.

When I tell people about this project, the conversation invariably gets a little sad face, because it turns out most people are suspicious, incredulous and really “turned off” by the idea. At the very least, they want to know “what for” or “why.” The answer to that question, which is really the question of why do we do shit that objectively sucks, is connected to a realization I had after a scary-but-exhilarating thing I did to myself in the Swiss-Italian Alps last summer.

One cold and windy afternoon, while riding around Laghi di Cancano and taking in 360-degrees of Alpine Wonderful with my local friends Emmie and Phil, I happened to glance in the direction of some crazy-gnarly switchbacks zigzagging their way up the side of a gorgeous Alp off in the distance. I was immediately transfixed and captivated by these seemingly impossible switchbacks—where do they go, what are they for, are they as dangerous as they look, can I ride them, could I clean them, would I fall off them, what country are they in, is that snow I see near the top, the list goes on.

Bottom line, I was deeply attracted to them and felt a kind of lust for something I can only describe as the intersection of danger and curiosity.

I asked Emmie about them and she said oh those, they go to Passo dello Stelvio but that’s the dirt version, you’re basically looking at the bottom of the start of Dirt Stelvio. They’re super sketchy but sometimes mountain bikers ride down them. Riding up them would suck and you’d likely have to push a lot and you’d have to try hard to not fall off a cliff, and/or Ötzi yourself.

Sold.

Later that night, after deep-internetting for hours about the prospect of this mythical route, I discovered a blog post from 2017 written by this Italian dude and his friend who had a delightful time mountain biking all the way up those switchbacks to the top of the Stelvio. In addition to a bunch of cute photos and some semi-inspirational exposition, the blog also provided a modicum of helpful beta about where and how shit got iffy.

But that was it, that was literally ALL I found on the subject of the Dirt Stelvio, which remained, at best, a known unknown.

Three days later I ate a huge plate of pesto-eggs-and-rice, stuffed my shorts with grocery store cornettos, and Free Solo’ed that bad bitch. It took six and half hours and it was the single greatest ride of my life. Also, all in all, danger-wise, it was relatively chill and at worst a 6.5 out of 10 on the Sketch scale.

For context…

I was on a gravel drop bar bike with road pedals and road shoes and 38s.

I didn't have a computer or a head unit.

I lost cell service an hour into the five hour climb.

I saw nobody except for a grip of seemingly playful marmots.

I didn't have a map.

I cleaned the switchbacks which were, in a few sections, reminiscent of the “no fall” sections on the Portal Trail in Moab.

At one point in the middle of a meadow, the path turned from dirt and rock to velvety grass that was so silent, soft and cozy, and novel, I got emotional.

A storm moved in.

I got lost for roughly two miles in an alpine boulder field which required me to hike-a-bike on rock and ice in my v slippy road cleats.

I got snowed on.

I was in summer kit except for a pair of homemade gloves fashioned from old socks and a recently purchased overpriced neck gaiter.

Upon completion, after riding down the paved Stelvio which I thiiiiiiiink was breathtaking but I only kind of remember on account of frostbite and pneumonia concerns—also, I couldn't see good because my eyes were blurry because I didn't bring Oakley ski goggles—and after getting home and taking a 1-hour shower, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I’m DEEPLY AND INTRINSICALLY motivated by the opportunity (luxury?) to find out something new, especially if I think it will (only) almost kill me. It turns out, I love Known Unknowns, Unknown Unknowns, and the art of Fuck Around Find Out.

I also love snow and the literal state of Vermont.

The Catamount Trail’s Fastest Known Time is 6d10hr 31m, but it will take me considerably longer because my goal is more akin to the Funnest Known Time. Obviously if I die or sustain an injury that will slow me down but otherwise I’d like to average 20 miles a day for a total of 15 days. This should allow me the time needed to publish¹ an episodic video series (hosted by me), in real time, as I Fuck Around Find Out my way north, on skis, snow camping along the way, which I’m told is cold.

In 2013 I skied about four the 31 of Catamount Trail sections. I went with my friend, his wife, and her dad. It snowed a lot.

Why me, why now, and why cross-country skiing, which you understandably but erroneously think is boring and irrelevant?

A long time ago, The Outside (an anthropomorphized tree that I talk to sometimes) came to me and said Daniel, please invent gravel cycling, and so I did using Rapha’s money. I didn't ask why, because trust me, it was obvious as road cycling up to that point was tragically Jock and painfully sad. The sport needed culture and energy and there was, both literally and metaphorically, A WEALTH OF PLACES TO GO AND CONNECTIONS TO BE MADE, if only “gen-pop” road cyclists were more inspired by, and less afraid of dirt, underbiking and FAFO.

And, it went well…maybe too well.

Anyhoo, The Outside is back inside my brain, and this time The Outside is VERY PRESSED about Big XC’s unnatural and misguided obsession with Nordic Centers featuring flat, groomed trails made (gross) exclusively (gross) for type-A lap-blasting skate skiers and 85-year old Mountain Whites looking to safely experience kicking and gliding in a dog-friendly, mocha-proximal winter wonderland.

All this in spite of the fact that there are seriously like 95 trillion miles of empty, silent, gorgeous fire roads and trails covered in deep snow and latent adventure, just waiting to get BCX’ed by future BCX mommies and daddies like yourself. But if, and only if, someone created/shared the HYPE and BETA needed to usher in (finally) and champion (once and for all) the future of winter endurance pursuits—backcountry cross-country skiing, aka BCX.

In future issues of BCX we will discuss fashion, music, technique, equipment, technology and navigation, BUT FIRST, will you please take this survey so I can show it to potential sponsors and media who lack vision and imagination when it comes to this inevitable snow sports paradigm shift because they’re either:

A) members of Big XC and thus committed to perpetuating the Nordic Center version of XC, even though it has zero adventure and negative aura,

or

B) members of Big Outdoor and thus think investing in cross-country skiing is silly and pointless because only old people do cross-country ski.

1. I also need time, energy and spirit to document everything required for a fully functional web-based 4D Guidebook and printed zine featuring 35mm film photography and a life-affirming essay(s) about the art of FAFO and the spiritual joy of low-angle thrashing. Both of which I will publish when and if I get home.