Here's What Telemark Has Learned From Its Haters

Have you noticed people aren’t saying “no one cares you tele” much anymore?

That refrain–a phrase that for years easily left the lips of The Turn’s many disparagers–had long been a trusty twisting-of-the-knife used against the genuflecting skier and their supposedly inferior turn.

But things have changed of late. In a ski culture now more inclusive–and less bent on throwing vague shade at supposedly arrogant pinners–the elder idiom has faded as a different vibe has emerged. Asked specifics about the lunging turn, ski world pundits and talking heads now often respond not so much with dismissive apathy (or defensiveness on the free-heel side), but more so with a magnanimous deflection.

It’s all sliding on snow, they say. Skiing is about where you ski, not what kind of turn you make.

While these takes avoid the pointed argument previous generations were all too willing to engage in, and instead joins the rising inclusionist milieu, a sort of you-do-you dismissal still follows telemark. A snowsports populace hung up on visions of ski-porn-impossible feats has long bristled at a version of skiing that appears at once both needlessly more difficult and precipitously less cool. And while acceptance of–even interest in–telemark does seem to be rising, it still holds precious little social cachet compared to the alpine discipline. Whether treated as novelty or foil, telemark can be perceived–even misunderstood–as the lesser choice in nearly all categories.

It all marks a long-running, almost tired conversation in skiing. But while the currently muted anti-telemark angle is full of hyperbole, and the latter day inclusionists see the discussion as a foray into the weeds, in between there exists rare if sober arguments that claim telemark is indeed subordinate to the alpine method. And some of them make a point.

Moreover, these more thoughtful takes have been influential to the subculture, guiding how telemark practitioners interpret their own craft, in turn influencing the sport’s evolution.

This critical appraisal of telemark’s usefulness has often come from members of the subculture itself. And especially operative amongst a more utilitarian free-heel subset is the thought that telemark isn’t just more difficult, but requires unnecessary exertion, presenting challenges to successfully achieving backcountry objectives. It’s one of the clearest arguments in favor of alpine touring gear, and one that also has a solid, thoughtful source. That comes from Cole Panter, who plainly spelled it out in a piece entitled Locked Heels: A Tele Skier's Foray into AT posted to the skimo.co blog in 2021. “The more I took my AT gear out, the more I realized how much tele gear had held me back on those big days,” Panter opines.

Soberly comparing the ramifications of using each turn’s gear, Panter states that “before, I was often exhausted by the weight of my laborious telemark equipment and would feel less motivated to tackle more intimidating lines.”

What Panter found in alpine touring equipment was the opportunity to transcend free-heel fatigue and engage more fully with the backcountry. “Now using AT gear I found myself enjoying every part of the day–not just the down. I was more energetic, enthusiastic, and inspired than ever. Whenever the snowpack was stable, I set my sights on larger and longer days with my AT set up. I even began dreaming of rowdy lines involving ropes, crampons, and ice tools,” he laid out.

While the cool-headedness of Panter’s take is not always the norm, many have echoed his thoughts implicitly in their buying habits. Demand for telemark gear cratered as the ascendance of frame bindings dealt the free-heel backcountry movement mortal wounds in the aughts. That was followed with the widespread acceptance of Dynafit bindings, the last nail in the coffin of the perception telemark gear was the best we had for skiing beyond resorts.

But while takes like this may on the surface be arguments for eschewing telemark, they have as a whole played a pivotal role in the evolution of free-heel gear. And while some lament the mini telemark industry's current focus on tech toes and touring specs, the critique that free-heel gear has long paled in comparison to AT counterparts has nonetheless had an outsized impact on innovation.

After years of groaning, telemark skiers can now enjoy touring options that are comparable to mid-range AT gear, eliminating much of the disadvantage that Panter pointed out just a few years ago. This includes options–like TTS and NTN tech bindings–that tour marvelously. And Scarpa’s long-awaited release of modern telemark boots–the revamped TX Pro and TX Comp –is in this same vein, finally bringing to fruition a full complement of retail-available telemark gear that tours like AT options.

But it’s not just the prolonged retrograde of telemark’s equipment that has found itself in the crosshairs of meaningful critique–so too has the backcountry application of the technique itself.

Not unrelated to the notion that telemark skiing unnecessarily complicates traveling in the backcountry is a thought from eminent ski mountaineer and backcountry chronicler Lou Dawson, who has made the assertion that the free-heel method is a poorer pairing with extreme skiing. Posted to WildSnow back in 2007, Dawson considered his occasional pariah status at the rowdy free-heel forum TelemarkTips, a reputation earned by his open opinions of telemark’s ability in a mountaineering context. Dawson concluded the article saying “telemark gear and technique are now nearly on par with randonnee, though any honest practitioner of both disciplines will admit that tele is still slightly more difficult, and not as comfortable for extreme skiing.”

Reflecting on the long-fermented piece, Dawson–who telemarked in the 1970s before becoming a fixed-heel alpinist–elaborates on his observation over email. "It's clear that overall, modern telemark and alpine are more a matter of individual choice than anything else,” he says, noting that telemark’s gear paradigm has evolved greatly over time. Still, while Dawson sees the modern choice between telemark and alpine in the extreme as a matter of personal preference, he still feels that the fixed-heel method grants the skier an advantage.

Defining extreme skiing as: "the type of ski alpinism that involves descending steep routes that are often as much climbing routes as they are ski descents," Dawson lays out the subtleties between the disciplines.

"Telemark technique and equipment has come close to parity with fixed heel alpine. But I think skiers vote with their feet on this, and most ski alpinism of a steeper nature remains the domain of fixed heel gear, if for no other reason than the extra modicum of control that fixed heel allows," Dawson says. "When the skier of the extreme is on the edge of doom, that little extra provided by a fixed heel is where it's at."

Dawson goes on to state an admiration for the telemark technique, its modern equipment, and the fact that free-heelers have over time tackled many of the descents that typically see alpine employment. Still, the elder statesman of backcountry skiing sees the fixed-heel method and the command it engenders as being the supreme tool of extreme skiing.

Dawson’s take brings to light nuances between the disciplines where they matter most–steep, high-consequence skiing. And his assertion that alpine skiing offers more control than the free-heel method stems from telemark’s lead change, a dynamic but vulnerable position that has little direct analogy in alpine, and creates a narrow margin for error in compromising conditions and terrain. But while telemark is unavoidably based on this unique movement, at its best it can borrow much from alpine technique, even in the lead change.

Related to that is an interesting aside from a 2022 article written by Matt Charles that ran in 32 Degrees magazine entitled For Strong Telemark Turns, Don’t Rush the Finish. It shows how committed free-heel fall line skiing can use the alpine method to its advantage, especially on the lead change–from a free-heeler’s beginnings, and beyond.

“By encouraging students to think of the moment where their feet pass as ‘alpine position,’ you can help them find new strength in a stance that works extremely well for our fixed-heel brethren,” Charles writes. Though the tip is pointed toward beginners, its main takeaway of engaging the fall line in the moment of dynamic parallel repositioning speaks to how the telemark can borrow from alpine to encourage strong, controlled skiing. This image of the late, legendary Kasha Rigby shows as much–astute, steep, and strong telemark skiing in the parallel instant.

Lastly, while not as pressing today with the mainstream ski world moving away from the anti-tele vibe that was long present, telemark still feels the effect of the long-held opinion that its practitioners were arrogant during the sport’s previous rise. Their haughty air took away from the experience, even detracting participants and thus contributing to the stagnation of the free-heel scene.

This sentiment has even come from telemark skiers themselves. Tapped for the roundtable portion of Hans Ludwig’s influential 2017 POWDER article Telemark Skiing Is Dead, prolific outdoor writer and former World Telemark Freeskiing champion Megan Michelson quipped on the backlash telemark endured in the preceding decade due to the perception it was the realm of the holier-than-thou. “Tele skiing was no longer an original, counter-culture thing to do,” she said. “That sticker ‘nobody cares that you tele’ sums it up to me. There was a weird ‘I’m better than you because I’m different’ attitude that went along with the sport, and that definitely turned me off.”

Michelson wasn’t alone in that thinking. In the aforementioned WildSnow article–which notably ran square in the beginning stages of the modern anti-telemark years–Lou Dawson concluded similarly, writing that “for a while I made a habit of dissing telemark skiing, because I felt the gear was crummy and the techniques used to drive wimpy ‘telemark’ boots and skis were unnecessarily difficult and made it hard for people to enter the sport of backcountry ski touring. Along with that, I was constantly riled about the smug attitude of superiority that some telemarkers presented about their ability to ‘do it on pins.’”

That apparent smugness–coupled with telemark’s perceived gear inferiority–together drove much of the ski world to cast telemark skiers off for the better part of a decade. Tropes still with us were then uttered as refrain–lock the heel, ski for real; telemark is an excuse to suck; no one cares you tele.

Interestingly, as the zeitgeist has turned ever toward inclusion–and irony–the rising free-heel new school seems to have made note of how telemark skiers were previously scorned for their perceived hubris, with many taking on a self-deprecating if not sardonic humor. In a recent Instagram post from SKI Magazine, the mainstream publication outlined ‘The 10 Most Embarrassing Ski Mistakes Our Editors Have Made.’ One cheekily stated ‘I telemark ski.’

Ironic declarations like this are now commonplace in free-heel social media circles. They are seemingly undertaken by a newer movement in telemark to cast off the perception that the sport’s skiers are an aged, curmudgeonly cohort that takes itself too seriously; the method employed to create distance from an old guard viewed as stale while bringing attention to the new movement in telemark. While it is arguably its own modern form of free-heel smugness–though this time rooted in a milieu of division in the subculture–the anti-telemark disdain some mainline skiers long shouted has certainly affected how the free-heel subculture now relates to the wider ski movement–and itself.

But no matter telemark’s fitful internal evolutions, it has unavoidably been influenced by critique from both the outside and within. Since the sport was rediscovered on this continent in the 1970s, telemark skiing has been subject to not only derision but occasional sober, mindful evaluation. And that hasn’t just been the subject of ski town bar banter and social media diatribes. These thoughtful takes have impacted the modern telemark movement, sometimes profoundly. They have molded the free-heel scene, which has often reacted to these opinions on a grassroots level, nudging the sport onward.

In reaction to criticisms of its lesser abilities compared to the alpine technique, telemark equipment has evolved greatly. Free-heel touring gear is now available that is nearly indistinguishable in weight and features to standard AT options–besides the beautiful advantage that one can make a telemark turn on it. And the modern crop of stouter gear, be it NTN or 75mm, can still drive the hell out of a ski, in large part due to inspiration and occasional critique from the strong-skiing alpine world.

But it’s not just the gear that has been influenced. The ethos and philosophy of telemark skiers has itself been impacted from within and without. Be it a new guard that tries to differentiate itself from their heady, free-flexing predecessors who–for right or wrong–were often thought of as arrogant. Or even the hard-skiing free-heelers of every generation who used alpine skiers’ feats not as fodder for resignation, but more so inspiration to ski just as hard, but with heels free.

Telemark has long been influenced by the precision, power, and popularity of the alpine side of things. And while parroted jokes and knee-jerk reactions to such have done much to stifle the discussion, telemark skiing may owe its modern paradigm–an aggressive, innovative form that continues to move forward–to the thoughtful analysis of its faults.