Up Close with Ski Instructor Alison Thacker

Up Close with Ski Instructor Alison Thacker

AC member Alison Thacker is a former ski competitor who works as a ski instructor, splitting her time between Chamonix, Scotland and Norway. We caught up with Alison to find out a little more about her work, her passion for ski mountaineering and her new practical guide to off-piste skiing.

^{Demonstrating a jump turn}

Could you tell readers a little about your early experiences of skiing?

My parents introduced me to skiing when I was aged 2 by taking my sister and I to a small hill on our local golf course which on snowy days would be full of sledgers and winter sports enthusiasts. They then took us to The Lecht, Scotland where I thought the purpose of skiing was to go up the lifts (as I enjoyed this so much) and you only skied down so that you could go up again!

Throughout my school years we would go to The Lecht almost every weekend through winter, which sometimes started in October and would finish in April. During this time, I became involved in ski racing and travelled abroad for training camps and races. My memory is that the conditions in Scotland became more variable through my teenage years, as the certainty of snow was no longer guaranteed.

How did you discover more adventurous ski mountaineering and can you tell us about some of your best mountaineering experiences on skis?

I’m a keen hillwalker and climber so when I became aware of ski mountaineering this seemed a natural progression for me.  For my BASI instructional qualification there is a Mountain Safety course to complete which I did in Chamonix in 2001. This was my first introduction to Chamonix and ski touring, and I think I knew following that course that my path in skiing was diverging away from ski racing and would take me into more mountainous terrain and away from the lifts.

Skiing in Norway has always been special to me, providing me with some of my fondest ski experiences. There is a couloir on the Lyngen Peninsula ‘The Godmother’ which for us entailed a three-hour boulder strewn and boggy walk in, half an hour of skinning, three further hours boot packing in knee-deep powder, for a 10-minute ski before enduring the 3-hour walk out. I thought it was worth it!

Closer to home, any day skiing in Scotland is memorable as rock and heather free descents are becoming increasingly rare. When conditions in Scotland are good and you can enjoy the view, the ski touring can be world class, as long as you don’t mind a walk to get to the snowline. Skiing Number Two Gully on Ben Nevis has a similar feeling to skiing a couloir in the Dolomites, only a little shorter.

^{One of those perfect Scottish days - skiing powder on Ben Hope}

When you’re working with clients what are the things people most want to learn about skiing off-piste?

There are two common scenarios that I come across numerous times every season. The first goes something along the lines of ‘I ski fine on-piste but I seem to really struggle off-piste and can’t work out the technique for it’. This suggests to me that what they are doing on-piste works, but there are areas for development which will make skiing off-piste less of a struggle. Often, it’s a case of developing on-piste skiing skills with a view to deploying them when skiing off-piste.

The other common scenario is clients wanting to learn how to ski in crust. For climbers, this could be likened to saying ‘I’d like to climb E9’. Now this may be achievable but it all depends on your starting point. If you are currently climbing VDiff, this is unlikely to be achievable in a week’s course. Crust is the most challenging snow type to ski and, in simple terms, the better a skier you become, the easier crust will be. It takes years of refinement, practice, and both physical and mental preparation to be skilful in crust. If there was one quick fix then we’d all be able to ski it (and I would have less work!). It will be quicker (and often safer) to learn how to recognise and avoid crust, rather than become a master in skiing it.

You’ve alluded to the changing nature of ski conditions and ski seasons. How do you see our approach to skiing changing in light of the climate crisis? Will we all be joining you in Norway in search of snow?

There’s how do I see our approach to skiing changing and how do I think it should change. I find myself morally torn between my love of skiing and the fact that pursuing that love has a significant detrimental impact on the planet. When I look at the current situation, I believe we should focus on pursuing sports and activities that are close to our homes and have less environmental impact. Equally, I am acutely aware that such an approach would exclude many from skiing and I am mindful of the health, social and financial benefits that skiing can bring. I’m not a scientist but I am in no doubt that our approach will have to change, with increasing flexibility on how, when and where we ski and ski opportunities becoming increasingly variable.

^{Alison instructing in Norway}

Your new book ‘Off-Piste Performance’ is billed as a practical manual for skiers. Who do you envision using the book and what do you hope they take away from it?

I hope that the book will appeal to all off-piste skiers, from those who are contemplating venturing into off-piste for the first time, to those that are already experienced off-piste skiers and professionals. There is something in there for everyone.

I have written the book that I wish I’d had 20 years ago, but also a book that I will use myself in the future. I envisage that skiers will use the book in a variety of ways from dipping into it throughout the ski season, reading before or after having some lessons to reinforce learning or when practicing for specific snow conditions. Throughout the book are ‘lightbulb moments’, which are quotes from skiers who I have had the pleasure to work with. I hope that readers will come away with their own lightbulb moments from the book, helping to take their skiing to the next level.

Guides to practical skills often face the challenge of translating complex physical movements into text and diagrams. How did you find the process of putting practical skills onto the page?

Immensely challenging! This was one of the reasons for resisting suggestions that I should write a book for so long! Then I found myself using similar books for my other sports – climbing, swimming, mountain biking, and found that they helped me, so my perception about the ability to learn from a book changed.

Taking, sorting and editing photos proved difficult and I was fortunate to work with three very patient photographers. I often say to skiers that photos should rarely be used for analysis as it shows a static skier. Video is a much better tool as it shows the movement. I have thousands of less than ideal photos of me skiing. To get a good one, the angle and timing needs precision. In the book I have sequences of photos which aim to overcome the static problem and show the movement.

When writing, my mantra became ‘let the photos do the talking and the words are there to support the images’. I also tried to use the same words and language that I use when I teach, aiming for the book to sound like the coaching that I would deliver on the hill.

Off Piste Performance: Essential Knowledge for off-piste skiers,
published by Pesda Press, is on sale now.

Up Close with Father-Son Climbing Team Michael and Tom de Csilléry

Up Close with Father-Son Climbing Team Michael and Tom de Csilléry

Father and son climbing team Michael and Tom de Csilléry have climbed together all over the Alps. This summer, the pair both completed the 82 4,000m peaks, with Tom likely the youngest completionist in history. We sat down with them to hear about their highlights from this journey and to find out how their partnership works.

^{Tom 'enjoying' soft and unconsolidated snow looking back to the summit of the Grand Pilier d’Angle}

First of all, huge congratulations to you both. Can I kick off by asking how you both felt completing your respective 82 peaks?

Michael: Kind of relieved! My last two summits were on the Peuterey Intégrale and we’d actually had an abortive attempt the year before and in 2022 as well. And so to actually get it done was quite special. Obviously I finished when I got to the top of the Grand Pilier d'Angle, but when you get to the top of that it doesn't really feel like the end of the route because you’ve still got 600 meters more and it's serious.

Tom: There'd been lots of snow because there'd been a storm when we were in the Craveri bivouac. So when we got towards the Grand Pilier d'Angle, we were bashing through knee or waist-deep snow at points and we were on heavily corniced ridges. So it felt quite serious and it really didn't feel like it was over when we were on top of number 82 for my dad. But getting to the top of Mont Blanc at sunset was quite special. There was nobody else there. The sun was this big red ball in the distance, the light was amazing and we knew we were safe.

Michael: If I'm honest, I wasn't thinking that Tom would finish this summer. After climbing the Peuterey, he had 14 peaks left and we had 17 days before my wife came to join us and we turned into pumpkins. But when we finished it was great being on top with Tom and sharing that moment with him.

A lot of people are introduced to climbing by a parent, but not that many carry on with them as a partner. How does your partnership work and how do you share decision-making?

Michael: It's sort of a family thing. My dad introduced me to the mountains and then I introduced Tom and his sister to the mountains. We started out doing via ferrata and

easier things before I got Tom and his sister some formal instruction through introductory courses at the ISM. And then we sort of morphed from doing those earlier routes with guides to climbing as just the two of us and getting into more and more adventurous stuff.

Tom: I've never done any alpine climbing with anyone else. Partly because I haven't met anyone in my age group who's got a similar amount of experience to me. I've been on lots of rock climbing trips with my uni friends and done a little bit of Scottish winter, but in the Alps we've always climbed together. There was one route we did where we invited a couple of my uni friends who are both E1/E2 rock climbers and have a little bit of alpine experience. But even though they're very fit and strong, they weren't used to moving at the kind of pace that that you have to go at in alpine terrain.

Michael: I'm just happy that he still wants to climb with his dad! I think we're a pretty good team. We tend to share the decision-making and it's nice agreeing stuff together and deciding what routes we're going to do. To begin with, I obviously had a lot more experience and I was generally taking the lead on route finding, but it didn't take long for Tom to get very strong and more experienced. He’s a much stronger rock climber, so he's my rope gun on all the technical rock stuff and I tend to lead the mixed pitches because I've got more experience on that sort of stuff. So we sort of complement each other. [To Tom] Although I tend to be the one that has to kick you out of bed in the morning.

^{Tom and Ella plus dad Michael on the Weissmies summit in 2012 - Tom's first 4000er}

^{Michael powering up Pointe Hélène on the Grandes Jorasses traverse with Pointe Marguerite behind}

 You’ve climbed a lot of the 82 multiple times and you’ve often done them by less popular, longer routes and link-ups. Can you talk a little about the motivation behind that?

Tom: We've never really been interested in “summit bagging”. Even the 82 is only something we started thinking about in the last couple of years. We were always more motivated by doing certain routes than climbing mountains. Martin Moran's guidebook is a bible for the 4,000ers and it's got lots of great routes up to TD-.

Of the ones that stick out, I'd definitely say the Zmutt Ridge on the Matterhorn, especially with the newly constructed Lonza bivouac hut. It's amazing having that ridge to yourself.

Michael: It's just a lot of fun being on a wild ridge or wild face and feeling like civilisation is a long way away. I don't like climbing if somebody's right behind me, and I also don't like climbing behind other parties in case they kick rocks down. In fact, this year I had one of my scariest moments when a party ahead of us on the Täschhorn kicked a big rock down which smashed into my head and knocked me off the mountain as we were short roping a steep couloir. Luckily, thanks to Tom holding me and my Petzl helmet, it all turned out okay.

You’ve both had fairly prolific seasons, Tom in particular climbing 26 of the 4,000ers this past summer. What advice would you offer people who want to climb more during a trip to the Alps?

Tom: I think good acclimatisation is key. I hadn’t been doing much training because I’d just done my finals and had a week of partying at the end of the year. So I was quite hungover and exhausted when we drove out to the Alps and there’s nothing like going straight up to 4,000m to sort your system out! And I guess knowing the Alps quite well geographically and working out where the best weather is. MeteoSwiss is your friend!

Michael: I’d say also not coming out with too many fixed objectives. You often hear people who say: “All right, I want to climb the Matterhorn this year,” and they book a Matterhorn week. And then they get disappointed because the conditions aren't right. So just going with an open mind.

^{Tom surveying the way ahead on the Lauteraarhorn grat traverse from the Schreckhorn}

^{On top of the Grand Pilier d'Angle with Mont Blanc’s Peuterey rdige behind - summit 82 for Michael}

So what’s next for you both? Do you have plans in the Alps or maybe farther afield?

Tom: We're both planning on training hard on our rock climbing and then having a look at things like the Frêney Pillar on Mont Blanc and the Bonatti-Oggioni on the red pillar of Brouillard. There's a lifetime's worth of climbing on the south face of Mont Blanc which I want to explore.

Michael: There's a lot of big routes in the Alps, a whole multitude. But the Walker Spur for one.

Tom: Hopefully Morocco at some point this year. I studied Arabic at university, so I spent a year living in Cairo and climbed in the Sinai. So desert rock is very appealing.

Michael: I’ve been walking with my wife in Georgia and the mountains there are absolutely amazing, so we’d love to climb there. Particularly a mountain called Ushba. But it’s quite wild out there!

Both Michael and Tom spoke about the inspiration they drew from Martin Moran’s The 4,000m Peaks of the Alps, Ben Tibbetts’ Alpenglow and Pause & Winkler’s Extreme Alpine Rock.

Up Close with Outdoor Designer Ronnie Legg

Up Close with Outdoor Designer Ronnie Legg

Veronica “Ronnie” Legg is a climber and clothing designer who’s worked for some of the UK’s best-known mountain brands. We caught up with her to discuss her role as a designer, gaps in the women’s outdoor clothing market and some of her key climbing experiences.

^{Working on the latest prototype for Vertura}

Can you tell us how you first got into climbing? 

I was introduced to it through Scouts when I was around 10, and the local leisure centre had a climbing wall which was lucky. I liked it so much I did an introduction to outdoor climbing on southern sandstone with Nick Tullis (Julie Tullis’s son), and from that moment I was hooked. Growing up in Sussex meant the mountains were a long drive away, which is one of the reasons why I ended up at university in Leeds.

What's your job and what does it involve?

I’m an outdoor clothing designer and recently started my own brand (Vertura) focussed purely on women-specific technical clothing.

I’ve been working in design since 2010. I started out at Rab, which was a great place to develop my design skills with the support of a bigger team, before moving on to Alpkit where I’ve been responsible for developing the entire clothing range since 2015.

In broad terms, my job involves identifying a problem, and finding the right materials and manufacturing partners that can help make the design I have in mind to solve that problem.

Designing technical clothing is much less about drawing than people think. I spend more time in Excel and on email than creating pretty pictures. The hardest part is sourcing, and working within the parameters that the brand or end customer demands (be that cost, performance level, look, feel or sustainability). Then there’s all the other aspects like fit, testing, quality and colour to consider. It usually takes between 6 and 18 months to develop a product from start to finish, but sometimes it’s even longer.

^{Ronnie tackling the cornice on Cinderella, Creagh Meagaidh - Andy Cowan}

How do you find working professionally in a field that you also spend your free time engaging in?

Funnily enough, I was torn between becoming an outdoor instructor and pursuing a career in design. I tried the instructor route for a little while, getting my basic qualifications at Plas Y Brenin and instructing their summer programme and then working as a mountain leader on an expedition to Svalbard. I found this was too close for comfort and it affected my desire to get out and do stuff for myself. Working in design means I can save my energy for big days out or trips that I want to do.

One of the downsides of being a designer is that it’s a bit embarrassing if you get caught out without the right clothing. Then again, getting cold or wet can serve as a good reminder of why I do it!

Climbing is so absorbing I’m not usually thinking about what I’m wearing (until I get to the belay, and then it’s all I think about!) But I’m always looking at what other people are wearing. I do sometimes have to check myself to make sure I’m not staring, trying to work out how a particular seam has been constructed!

It seems remarkable that you’ve found time to start a new company alongside your day job. Can you tell us a little more about Vertura?

One of the reasons I started Vertura was out of frustration that I couldn’t buy women’s technical down clothing suitable for my trip to climb Ama Dablam. I’m an average height female with curves in all the usual places, and wearing a men’s or ‘unisex’ product just doesn’t work. I figured if no one else was going to solve this problem, then I should. So I designed a super-warm down jacket, and even made my own down trousers for the trip. I’m still in the prototyping and sourcing stage, but I’m loving the process of developing my own brand and creating something to fill a niche that’s close to my heart.

I’ve done a soft launch already with some simpler products like hats and thermal leggings (the kind of thing you always need on a trip) while I work on the more complex items like down-insulated trousers and jackets suitable for expeditions to higher altitudes.

I always say I’d rather be busy than bored, and I’ve definitely been living up to that. For the first year I basically worked most evenings and weekends on top of my day job. Now I’ve transitioned to part-time at Alpkit to give me more time to work on Vertura but also to have a life again and find time to go climbing!

I really want Vertura not only to serve women’s needs for technical clothing, but also inspire them and show them they are just as capable of tackling high peaks or arctic expeditions as men. I’m a firm believer that you can’t be what you can’t see, so curating a collection of books about and by women, and writing articles to demystify some of the common barriers women face are another aspect of Vertura.

^{A sneak peak of the Vertura down jacket out on a test}

What made you choose Ama Dablam for an expedition and how did you find the experience of climbing it?

Like many people, I’ve always wanted to go to the Himalayas, having read so much about the region. I’ve organised my own trips in the past, as far and as high as the Bolivian Andes, but being self-led has always meant being conservative in my ambition routes-wise. If I was going to go as far as Nepal (and I didn’t have anyone to go with, so it had to be an organised trip), I figured I should try something more technical and a bit higher. There’s also just something incredibly appealing about the shape of Ama Dablam.

I had been warned it was a tough mountain, and it certainly felt it. I found acclimatising fairly slow going, and didn’t enjoy the lower part of the mountain that much. The climbing on the upper section was simply superb though. It was like a series of 3-star classic routes of every kind: slabs, easy rock, technical rock, ice, mixed and snow. The exposure is downright outrageous, and I was very glad of the fixed ropes.

It was a long summit day, and between the cold and the altitude I suffered with a bit of fuzzy vision (although that took the edge off the exposure!). The hardest part was actually descending the next day. With a combination of calorific deficit and high altitude cough I was pretty wrecked. It was totally worth it though.

^{Advanced base camp on Ama Dablam, with the route from camp 2 to the summit on the left skyline}

^{Approaching Chachacomani (6074m) in the Cordillera Real, Bolivia - Alys Jepson}

Now that you've carved out some time to climb again do you have any climbing plans or aspirations for the next few years?

I would love to go back to the Andes at some point. Maybe Peru next time. I’ve been neglecting my skiing these last few years, so having got back on the slopes this winter I’d like to improve my off-piste skiing and get back into ski touring. I’ve never done a proper ski mountaineering expedition so that’s on my wish list too. There are loads of places I’ve not been that I’d like to visit, including Lofoten and the Bugaboos. As usual there’s too much to do and too little time!

You can follow Ronnie’s work with Vertura at www.vertura.co.uk, via Instagram, Facebook and Twitter/X.

Up Close with Klaus Thymann

Up Close with Klaus Thymann

Danish explorer and AC member Klaus Thymann is a walking multi-hyphenate. We caught up with him in December 2023 to discuss his work as a climate activist, his interest in equatorial glaciers and his thoughts on the failures and future of science communication.

To kick off, could you tell us a little about what you do professionally?

That is going to be a very long answer. I do a lot of things professionally. I have more hats than I have hair. So I used to work as a photographer, I've been a filmmaker my entire life and I’m an explorer. But my main focus is mapping. Without maps, we can't navigate. And without navigation, we can't actually solve some of the pressing issues. So for me, that's a logical first step.

I grew up as a teenager taking pictures and I became a professional photographer when I was 15. Then I became a filmmaker and the great thing about photography and filmmaking is that you can do whatever you’re interested in. If you like food, you photograph food. If you like adventure, you photograph adventure. And I've moved through a lot of different genres and themes in photography, but around 2008, I set up a charity called Project Pressure with a focus on triangulating climate change action, art and science. And, later, in 2010, I started a science degree. So I have a degree in Environmental Science and nowadays I would say that what I do professionally is focus on activism that is grounded in science and communication. I think, when we look at climate change specifically, science has failed on communication.

 

A lot of your climate change communication work has focussed on glaciers. Is there a reason for that choice?

When I founded Project Pressure, we wanted to create communication around climate change. At that time, climate change deniers were called “sceptics” and the media gave equal billing to deniers as to scientists even though 99% of scientists said that climate change was happening. That created a public perception that climate change was up for debate and we're still seeing the results of this now.

So when we started Project Pressure, we wanted to communicate in a way that was undeniable, scientific and bulletproof. Glaciers react to long-term warming trends. Glacier mass balances and mass balance losses are not part of the weather cycle, so showing their retreat illustrates climate change. And from an artistic perspective, it's one of the classic forms and so it made sense to create work around them.

^{The past and the present - recreating historic glacier photos in Uganda}

^{2023 Meltdown Exhibition at  Kühlhaus, Berlin}

You talked earlier about the failure of science to communicate, particularly in the early stages of climate change awareness. Do you think scientists failed because of false balance in the media, or was it a wider failing?

It's not a binary, it's not one or the other. The media played a big role in the problem and that’s also because most journalists are not trained scientists and most scientists are not trained in media. So you have two groups that are trying to do things that they're not trained to do.

The precautionary principle in science is part of it too. When you write scientific reports, it's a guiding principle. You cannot prove something, you can only disprove a lot of other things. So you cannot go out and say categorically what is. You can say something would have a certain likelihood.

When it comes to the environment, I think you have to look at the precautionary principle in a different context. Not from a scientific context, but from an environmental context. In an environmental context, that precautionary principle says that you don't destroy something without absolute certainty that you will not damage the systems. So one should take a precautionary approach to how we treat the environment. If there is a risk, the approach has to be changed.

 

I noticed that, perhaps in contrast to a lot of Alpine Club members, you’ve undertaken a lot of expeditions in equatorial regions. What is their appeal to you?

Mapping has always been a driving force for me. So going to the white spots on the map where it’s less documented was a big interest for me. I also have to say that when it comes to ice and mountaineering, there’s such a huge focus on the poles and Everest that it's not interesting. There's been so many other people there. I'm not going to be able to contribute anything.

By contrast, some of the equatorial glaciers are not named, they're not documented and they can be difficult to get to for a number reasons; conflict, logistics and so on. It’s an event just to get there and you come back with something new.

It also offers a different perspective. Those equatorial glaciers only have height. Once the temperature increases and the freezing point goes higher, they melt. It shows the effects of climate change on a global scale in a way that's maybe a little bit surprising to people.

^{View from inside a cave towards the dive entrance.
Tannic acid in the water creates the remarkable colours seen here}

^{Thymann carrying a dive tank in Mexico}

You’ve also done a lot of diving as part of your work. Do you think that there are similarities between mountaineering and diving?

So the diving I do is technical diving and a lot of it is cave diving. I would say the expedition mentality and the expedition planning is something that is similar. But ultimately it's very different. There are people in mountaineering who are risk averse and there are people that are absolutely not risk averse. In cave diving you die very quickly if you take risks, and in cave diving, we say “two is one, one is none”. Preferably there's a backup and then maybe there's a backup of the backup. If you're several kilometres into a cave, there’s no other option than getting back out the same way. And, if you know what you're doing, the limits are very well known. And I think, when you look at the way people treat mountaineering, people are forgetting the risks in a way that you can’t in cave diving.

 

To come back to photography and filmmaking - film and video are so ubiquitous now, how do you, as someone who uses it professionally, find what Werner Hertzog refers to as “the new image”? Something that's not been shown to people before.

Photography doesn't really interest me so much anymore. I think it's a medium that has done a lot, but as a standalone unit, it isn't a great vehicle for storytelling. Comparative image photography still does create a narrative. But if we accept that most people will consume their media on a digital device, it's the whole device that's much more interesting. You know, different mapping platforms different 3D environment and so on.

^{Project Pressure's 'Voices for The Future' Installation at the United Nations 2019 Climate Action Summit}

 

Lastly, is there anything you’re working on at the moment that you’d like to highlight?

For a long time, I've been working on a story about the Rwenzori Mountains in Uganda and Congo (DRC). And we’re currently seeking archival images of these mountains. So if anyone has something lying around in their drawers, please get in touch. We're trying to build a database of what the glaciers have done in this region and we have some of the historic photographs that were published by the first expeditions in 1906. But there are huge gaps in the ’50s and ‘60s and there’s very little from the ‘60s up until 2012.

 

You can learn more about Klaus’s work and get in touch with him via his website: https://www.klausthymann.com/

This interview originally appeared in the Winter 2024 issue of the Alpine Club Newsletter. Previous issues of the newsletter are available to read here.