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2008 Ski Mountaineering Season Recap - Part 3: Pierra Menta
Published: Tue Sep 02, 2008 2:00 AM MDT Updated: Tue Sep 02, 2008 11:20 AM MDT This is the third article in a four part series documenting the 2008 Ski Mountaineering Season from the perspective of Lyndsay Meyer and Nina Silitch.  “Allez Niiiinnnaaa, Allez Lyyynndsay.” Spectators had the start list and cheered us by name, switching to “go go go” or “way to go America.” We were absolutely blown away at the support we were receiving. The sound of bells was deafening and it was incredible to see that people skinned up or took the telepherique at 5am with cowbells the size of your head straight off the neck of the family cows. Others brought wine, food, and some with accordions to serenade racers with old French folk songs. The Pierra Menta is the Tour de France of Ski Mountaineering and the energy was awesome. Some spectators slowly followed behind on course like angels. At the transitions they would plant poles for you, brush off skis, making everything just a bit easier as the hours pass — although we did hear that they were not quite as kind to the male racers. Some told me I imagined these angels, which admittedly, is entirely possible. Finally, reaching the end of the third skin, our friend Fabienne was there, the woman who lost the ski the day before. She cheered us on. “Now the arete, everyone is up there, they are waiting for you! Courage!” Skis securely fastened on our packs we began picking our way up the rocks. It was slippery and exposed, and we made up time catching other teams as the racers ahead were bunched up waiting to clip and unclip their slings on the fixed ropes. The Pierra Menta requires use of a harness with two slings set up in a via feratta fashion. Leading men had brushed much of the snow off the rocks making it muddy and icy and not for the faint of heart. I was happy to clip into the line. Falling was not an option. One spectator sat on a rock playing his harmonica. Seeing the flags on out packs he began to play, “When the Troops Come Marching Home.” “You are American?” One of the guides asked as he helped us clip in. “This is not too hard for you?” We said we were fine with big smiles and could hear him tell his fellow guides how cool it was that we were competing. It gave us new strength.  Ascending the final 20 meters, the last ridge of the summit hid the 3000 people waiting in ambush. Running into the huge crowd all pain was forgotten as we heard cheers of “Courage, bravo, bravo les filles!” We ripped skins and clicked bindings, the crowds urgently reminding us to check bindings and boots. I have never experienced such supportive spectators, willing you in unison to complete the race safely and in one piece. The level of respect for just doing the Pierra Menta was evident. The last descent I can't really remember feeling my feet. It was a high speed traverse around the peak, then down about 1200m of extreme skiing through forest and ending in a tuck to the finish. Get me a coke please and a piece of that awesome pound cake, boots and wet clothes off immediately. Dinner that night had us sitting next to some Tyrolean guides from the German speaking part of the Dolomites in Italy. It was their seventh Pierra Menta. Each year they came for vacation and told us it was the hardest race yet and that we would break 10,000 meters this year. Only one more day. Day Four began a bit like the movie Groundhog Day. We have done this before. The daily routine starts the same. Eat, prepare, race, suffer, finish. Eat again, rest, daily massages (great perk), eat yet again, prepare gear, sleep. We didn't speak this morning for the first fifteen minutes. Just silently followed the routine. Pack the packs, get the skis ready, get dressed, check beacons, helmets, sunscreen, food, warm-up. They announced the course has been shortened 300 meters due to snow. What a gift! The final stage was only 1500 meters. The first climb started and was quickly interrupted by a mid forest hike through mud and trees. The snow had melted on the exposure and the change of movement was welcome, we are fast on the boot packs. We could hear the women yelling in French behind us. Nina and I had a chance to move up a few places in the general classification so their voices spurred us on as we dug deep and found we still had some fight left. The ascent was long and warm and sweat and salt were getting in my eyes. Nina set a good pace, and it was easy to just follow and not have to think. I was redlined. To spice things up there was a 20 meter ski down ice and powder with the skins on, a true test of balance, and then a brief ascent to the transition. Making up time on a great ski down, we again had to put skis on packs and be part of a “Rambo” run down a muddy gully. Men were not afraid to hurl themselves down these slopes and we went as fast as we could just to get out of the way. Fear of getting trampled made up more time and we caught some stronger teams. We could see a glimmer of respect from some of these women who have competed their whole lives in this sport. One last 300 meter climb and a short ski to the finish. “Bird's nest it,” I said to myself (thanks Wick) and just shoved the skins in my suit for the last time and followed Nina down. Clasping hands through the finish we threw our arms around each other. Nina's son Birkin had made a “go mommy go” sign, not only is she an insane competitor, but a mother of two.  We finished the Pierra Menta in 14th place out of 21 teams. Without hesitation we both agree it was the hardest thing we have ever done and laugh as we think of the things that went through our heads as we battled the mental demons. I had decided out there that I was ready to give it all up, surf, and move to Bali. Nina thought about going back to cross-country and staying home more with the kids. Elation at the finish erased the low moments. However, we agreed to wait at least a week before considering doing it again. 
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