27 February 2025

Freeing the Heel

By Riley Comstock

On a snowy Wednesday evening, Lucy Decker’s house filled with her fellow club members. They trickled in, ski gear in hand, wearing canvas pants and flat brim hats, puffy jackets and floral print accessories. Blundstone shoes littered the entryway. But beyond their clothing they all had one thing in common: They were telemark skiers. 

Decker, the president of the University of Montana Telemark Club, hosted the wax and pizza night. The following night, the skiers would tackle a different challenge as they began the fourth set in a six-series telemark ski race.

The living room boasted the laid back vibe of a skier who loved nothing more than getting out in the mountains on the weekend. A Trampled by Turtles poster illuminated by soft orange lights seemed to put everyone at ease. Costco pizzas littered the kitchen counter next to a huge bottle of ranch. 

As the skiers mingled and discussed the past three races, they carried a cheerful buzz, happy to take a break from the stress of the spring semester. 

In the detached garage, folks tightened their skis in vices and dripped hot wax onto the bottoms of their skis, smoothing it out and scraping the excess off in order to glide over the snow better. They would need as much speed as possible to do well the next night.

The Missoula Telemark Challenge, also nicknamed “tele races,” are a set of five Thursday nights and one Friday night in January and February where telemark skiers come together to race one-on-one down a steep slalom course bordered by moguls and jumps on both sides. After, skiers are paired against the person with the closest time and the races start over again the next week. 

Telemark skiing is a niche form of skiing where the binding only locks the skiers toe down, leaving their heel free to lift — a change from the fully locked-in style of alpine, or downhill, skiing. Turns are made by lunging forward, so the front knee is bent and the back heel lifts up.

A senior from Petaluma, California, Decker joined the telemark club as a freshman. Back then, the club was in its infancy. 

“There were three of us, and I didn’t really know what I was getting into at the time, but there was a lot of energy and a lot of passion for it,” Decker, now a senior, said. 

Throughout her four years at the University of Montana, she grew the club from a few daring folks to a group of over 100 students, and helped to bolster the number of racers in the telemark challenge. But expanding the club wasn’t the only positive outcome of her hard work. 

In just a few short weeks, the club would take over Teton Pass outside of Choteau, Montana, for a day of exclusively telemark skiing. It was a chance to bring the vibrant, but small, community in Montana together. 

But first, they had to race.

The club begins

Lit by a bright white bulb, Decker’s garage was the epicenter of the waxing night. One wall was hidden behind a wide array of skis and boots. New and old, narrow and wide, every color of the rainbow and every length imaginable was on display. The skis carried a quiet, welcoming feeling for newer club members looking to get started.

Over the course of the season, the club lends out almost 50 pairs of skis to anyone who wants to try telemark skiing.

The ski collection in Decker’s garage had been building since club co-founder Owen Darro graduated from UM three years ago. 

Darro first started telemark skiing in 2007. As soon as he heard about the races, he was in. At that time, the Challenge was in a lull. Darro saw potential for an infusion of college energy. He started reaching out to people, seeking gear donations for the fledgling group.

“I think my partner and I went away for a week to go backpacking and I came back and there were like six or seven boxes of boots on the doorstep and like five pairs of skis,” Darro said.

While Darros’ donation created a solid foundation, plenty more skis were bought with club funds at local shops for cheap. Even more had been donated from locals and far out tele-skiers who wanted to support the club. 

“People are not only providing them locally, they are legitimately shipping them from the East Coast for us,” Decker said.

Darro started the club right before COVID-19, foiling his plans at getting it off its feet. It would be a full year before he could take club members out on the hill. But the lockdown didn’t stop him from planning.

“I think it gave us enough time to really create a formula to get people out on snow and just have fun,” Darro said. 

Darros’ efforts helped get college students participating in the challenge after the pandemic. As the older generations of skiers ebbed and flowed in their participation, newcomers infused a new lifeblood into a culture that, according to volunteer race organizer Alli DePuy, has long held a welcoming vibe.

“The University has had such a vibrant leadership community that you just want to be part of it,” DePuy said. 

In the fall, the club hosts an event where they give out skis to interested club members to borrow for the winter. 

Every Thursday, students drive up the long, windy road to Snowbowl, where the races are held. On the second week of February, the themed fourth race had skiers turning up in denim outfits. But the double-denim of their Canadian tuxedos didn’t stop them from shredding the hill.

While many racers complained the course was a bit icy, they pushed through. The races started at the top of the T-bar, a lift that pulls skiers to the top of the ski run. Once it was their turn, a volunteer counted them down and the skiers took off, weaving through gates, two poles with a flag that connected them.

As they flew down the hill, around the gates and through the final timing check, skiers and supporters cheered.  

Alongside exercise and community, the Challenge gives students a fun opportunity to mingle with other skiers who have been racing for years. 

Officially starting back in 1983 with a highly dedicated group of telemark skiers, the races have existed for decades of history. Todd Frank has been there for almost all of it. 

Frank started telemark skiing when he came to UM in the early ‘80s. Back then, telemark equipment looked quite different. 

“The gear was pretty primitive, my first pair of tele skis were essentially just metal edged cross country skis,” Frank said. 

While telemark gear can be less expensive, it can still be difficult for students to buy. Today, older skis often get donated or sold at lower prices. But, since the telemark skis hold up longer and better than downhill skis, they still have plenty of life in them. 

Frank said the first races were at Mount Fuji on Lolo pass. He was part of the initial group of skiers in the mid ‘80s that participated in the small event. Back then, it was put on by the owners of Trailhead Sports, a local outdoor gear shop. After spending a few years in Whitefish, Frank came back to Missoula and got a job at Trailhead. He was put in charge of the races, and eventually, bought the shop in the ‘90s. 

As the years went on, Frank saw the races grow in number. He remembers late nights holed up in the Snowbowl lodge, calculating race results on a computer for over 150 skiers. Those days, he wouldn’t leave the hill until the wee hours of the morning. 

Frank eventually bowed out of managing the races, but people still flocked to them every Thursday night. The thrill of having a free heel brought plenty of folks in, but there was another aspect of telemark skiing that kept them coming back: the culture. 

Dropping the knee

For the fifth week’s theme, racers sported frilly tutus and unicorn horns. As the fastest racers hurled through the gates, onlookers whooped in excitement at the tight turns on the steep, dark slopes above the lodge.

While some might have thought racing in a fluffy skirt with a bright unicorn horn strapped to their helmet is silly, it was another electric Thursday night for the racers.

Telemark skiing isn’t just physically different from alpine skiing. Some skiers say it also promotes a different culture. Alpine ski culture can sometimes be seen as exclusive and competitive, Alianza Zwang said. A report from Skimag estimated the total cost for a family of four to ski at five of the most popular resorts in America. It found costs ranged from $818 to $1,341. 

The Kaimin compared the costs of downhill skis versus telemark skis via online websites and found no marginal difference between the two.

“It’s a country club sport, like that’s what alpine skiing is at the end of the day,” Zwang said

A freshman from Bozeman who studies philosophy, Zwang has been alpine skiing since she was little. As a kid, she often protested against her parents for making her go. But soon enough, they would have to drag her down from the mountain. 

Zwang first joined the telemark club when some of her friends decided to try it. She figured it would be a fun challenge to alpine skiing. 

“It’s completely opposite, it’s very weird. I’m not going to lie, I still can’t figure out how to bend my front leg,” Zwang said before the fourth race. 

But she stuck with it, telemark skiing during the races and going out with friends. She quickly found herself leaning into the club’s positive energy. 

“The fact that it’s still going as strong as it is is a testament to [the] fact that it is welcoming. I think there’s a lot of people who have never tele-skied before and are obviously comfortable enough to go do that,” Zwang said. 

The culture of telemark skiing is marked by an inviting atmosphere, a willingness to help other skiers and an enthusiasm for free heels. It’s a culture Decker has been working to preserve.

In one of her first times at Snowbowl for the Challenge, Decker’s boot buckle broke, a severe setback for racing. 

“Someone immediately was like ‘I got a pair, just borrow these for the rest of the season,’ and I was like ‘I don’t even know who you are,’” Decker said.

Several years later, Decker got a chance to pay that welcoming energy forward. After her boots broke again, she found herself sitting out the fifth race. When one of the club members came down the mountain with a busted binding, rendering his skis unusable, she immediately offered to let him borrow hers. 

Decker’s effort to make sure people have fun while skiing is part of what grew the club in the past few years. And growth was exactly what the races needed. 

It’s hard to say exactly what caused the decline in telemark skiing. DePuy, one of the volunteer race organizers and a longtime telemark skier, has a theory that looks over to telemark’s more expensive cousin. 

“I think that’s when tele started declining: When the AT gear got really good,” DePuy said. 

AT stands for alpine touring, which is typically done in backcountry settings. Alpine touring gear allows skiers to have a free heel while they traverse up the hill, then they can lock it down on the descent. 

“We’ve had a bad spell, where numbers have been in the 30s and 20s,” said Thomas Fogarty, who has been racing since 1996. 

But the telemark skiing decline seems to be coming to an end. Recent infusions of interested skiers, many of them college students, pushed the number of racers back up.

“This year we had over 90 people register to participate,” DePuy said. 

DePuy doesn’t necessarily think having a smaller race is a bad thing. “You would be here ‘till midnight, no questions asked, you were exhausted,” she said. “I don’t mind 80-100 [skiers]. I think it’s perfect, it’s a great range.”

Another likely reason for the decline is the sports’ older demographic, DePuy said. 

“Telemarking is not super easy on your body,” DePuy said. 

Elsah Bechtold, a senior studying environmental science and the club’s treasurer, said she didn’t use to see so many younger telemark skiers. 

Bringing in more racers had a lot to do with marketing and reaching out for sponsorships, Decker said.

This year, the club was sponsored by Bishop Telemark, a Colorado-based company that exclusively produces telemark equipment. The company sent the club five pairs of skis to use for this year’s races. 

While Decker solidified the club’s status, she also raised its next generation. Stella Dustman, an environmental studies, French and sustainable science and practice major, is learning the ropes and helping run the club, following in Decker’s footsteps.

Similar to Zwang’s experience, she wasn’t always into the idea of skiing. “I can’t always say I was happy to ski when I was younger,” Dustman said. But her parents didn’t give up. “It was like a big, big part of our family tradition.” 

Growing up in Park City, surrounded by mountains and snow, she was forced to learn whether she liked it or not. Her dad telemark skied for her whole childhood, but she always thought it looked hard. 

“I knew at some point I would break into it in my life, I just didn’t know when,” Dustman said. 

Once she got to Missoula she knew it was her time. “I heard about the tele club, and I was like ‘This is my time, this is when I’m gonna challenge myself.’”

Dustman said she struggled while learning to telemark ski because she doesn’t remember learning to ski when she was younger. But she was up for the challenge. 

“It was really cool and super empowering and humbling to learn something that was already so ingrained in you, but in a different way,” Dustman said. 

As the vice president, Dustman has been helping Decker and Bechtold envision the path forward for the club and its message to people. 

“I just think it’s super cool to be able to do something that you’ve never done before and push yourself, and you don’t have to be good at it, that’s such a beautiful thing,” Dustman said.

All that effort would come to a head during the last race of the series. 

Turning tele

The final race on Feb. 21 allowed students one last chance to race their friends down the gates. A recent warm weather spell had thawed the top layer of snow, but racers were still in good spirits. Bishop Telemark brought skis for people to try out. 

Plenty of spectators showed up to watch the prom-themed competition. The race list was packed. Fans let out yips and rang cowbells from the timing shed. Awkward suits, long dresses and capes flapped in the wind as skiers hurtled over the slushy terrain. 

There was a lingering excitement that Friday night. In two short days, many of them would be heading north to Choteau, Montana, for a one of a kind event: An entire ski resort rented out just for telemark skiing. 

Bechtold had previously mentioned the idea of renting out the Teton Pass ski resort to the leadership team. 

“I kind of just threw it out there,” Bechtold said, “It’s a small hill in Montana that could definitely use the support.” 

Nobody was really sure if the event could actually happen. They decided they would wait until the club had a fundraiser to see if it would be feasible. The fundraiser brought in nearly $10,000 in over a month, according to Decker. The amount was a pleasent surprise, and got them one step closer to renting out a mountain.

Bechtold texted the owner of Teton Pass, a longtime family friend, and then set it up. Renting out the hill cost about $6,500. 

“We really wanted an opportunity to give back to everyone that supported us, because truly we would not be here without them,” Decker said. 

The event featured telemark-only access. Only people who had telemark bindings could go on the lift. Bishop Telemark brought a full demo fleet of skis for people to try. The club brought in a DJ, and the resort kept its bar open late. 

The ambitious takeover allowed like minded people to come together and share their joy of telemark skiing. People love telemark for all different reasons. For many, it’s the challenge of learning. 

“I feel like especially in that age group that are in university, their whole identity is that they’re an excellent skier,” Darro said. “To want to get into telemark skiing you have to take a step back and accept you might not be the best skier: You might look like a dumbass.”

Dustman loved the challenge of learning to telemark, but for her, there’s another appeal.

“For me it’s kind of all about people that are doing it. You wanna be with them, you want to do what they’re doing because they’re rad,” she said.

Decker still feels like the sense of community that brought her in is one of the sport’s strongest assets.

“I think it’s the community around it, I just couldn’t see it die, I think it’s so supportive,” Decker said. “With telemark skiing you really appreciate the turns, you appreciate the technique. It makes me think about where I am and puts me in my time and place.”

Check out the original version at montanakaimin.com.

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