LINES BEYOND RESPECTABLE RISK ON LE TOÛNO’S WEST SHOULDER Words David MacKinnon I DIDN’T SET OUT to ride Le Toûno’s west shoulder. Clinging to the prominent peak, alone, I rode with the under-standing that a fall could cost my life. I felt the weight of exposing both of my friends below, and my loved ones at home, to the worst-case scenario. And while it was the line of my life, it also led to a stern lesson, which is best understood in the context of respectable risk. As a steep, switchbacking road reached the heart of Saint-Luc—a village in the Swiss canton of Valais—Le Toûno first came into view. There, in crisp midday light, the obvious line was a clean, shaded couloir—a classic descent that sees local traffic on a regular basis. It falls to the northwest, about 2,000 vertical feet from the entrance to the fan. I immediately wanted to ride it. I was with Justin Hostynek and Severin Van Der Meer, lucky to be a guest of the Absinthe Films crew. We’d meet Brandon Cocard and media crew Sean Kerrick Sul-livan, Shane Charlebois and David Vladyka that afternoon. Two days later, we pushed toward a zone adjacent to Le Toûno, with a few jump spots in mind. By the midway point on Saint-Luc’s nine-min-ute poma, though, I began considering soloing the couloir. I figured it was isolated and sheltered enough to hold stable preserved snow. I asked the crew how they’d feel if I peeled off to ride the line. We established a com-munications plan, Vlady shared local knowledge, and I started hiking. Two hours later, I was high on Le Toûno’s south slopes, keeping a decent pace and enjoying myself. But an impasse was fast approaching–in 50 feet I’d reach a rock buttress. I braced myself to turn back, acknowl-edging I may be on the wrong section for the top-out. I had a little water left, but not enough to support the elevation loss required for a reroute. I could see a way forward, a chimney with sporty but manageable moves. I was confident I could climb it but was less certain about down-climbing without a rope, or what lay beyond. It was committing, and I wasn’t sure it would take me to the ridge, let alone to my drop. 024 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 16.1: Page 24
