Published in Snow News, January 2003

Skier of the impossible

William Ham Bevan profiles Patrick Vallençant, one of the founding fathers of extreme skiing

THE French pioneers of extreme skiing had a simple definition of their sport: si tu tombes, tu meurs – if you fall, you die. Their margin for error was zero, the terrain they skied impossibly steep, and their level of control verged on the supernatural. Among their number were Sylvain Saudan, Jean-Marc Boivin, Bruno Gouvy, and the most flamboyant of them all, Patrick Vallençant.

Born in Lyon in 1946, Patrick first gained fame on the wild, unforgiving terrain in the high mountain ranges around Chamonix. There he notched up a breathtaking number of “premieres” – first descents of slopes that had never been considered skiable. These included the Couturier couloir at l’Aiguille Verte, the Peuterey ridge at Mont Blanc, and the Y couloir at the Argentiere Aiguille with his wife Marie-Jo.

In 1978, he went out to the Peruvian Andes to tackle some of South America’s most spectacular territory, frequently tackling couloirs of more than 50 degrees in steepness and barely three metres in width. A film called El Gringo Skiador was dedicated to Patrick, and this was to become one of his many nicknames. He certainly looked the part of the mountain man, with his trademark beard, and a penchant – soon much imitated on the slopes of Chamonix and Val d’Isere – for long, trailing headscarves.

His brand of extreme skiing had little in common with the exploits of the American “cliff-jumpers” of the late Eighties and Nineties. Even now, purists maintain this new generation are no more than stuntmen beside the technical expertise of the French, nearly all of whom were expert climbers – alpinistes – with an instinctive understanding of high-mountain terrain.

Patrick’s friend and mountaineering partner Anselme Baud explains: “As soon as we started, we wanted our extreme skiing to be in the context of autonomous alpinism. Therefore, helicopters were excluded.

"The climbing technique and the extreme skiing descent were not separable for us. Whatever could be climbed up with crampons should be descended on skis. For us, extreme skiing was just a form of alpinism. The spirit was the same; only the technique was different.”

As his name became known throughout the world, Patrick opened a school for off-piste skiing in Argentière. At first, his uncompromising style of tuition did not go down well with some of the locals. Longer-established instructors were openly resentful at the exuberant outsider showing up, pushing a highly individual style and vision. A lot of noses were put out of joint.

In 1983, Patrick branched out into skiwear, launching the first Degre 7 range. He worked tirelessly on the project, for a while camping out on the floor of the factory where the clothing was produced, in Bourg de Peage.

The functionality that Patrick built in to every piece of Degre 7 skiwear revolutionised mountain clothing – based as it was in his own alpine experience. He said: “One must have gone through a lot of snow storms, walked under the sun of the white desert, gone across ice-cold mountain streams, bivouaced in the middle of a vertical rock face, skied in minus 30 degrees, to understand the needs of those who turn sport into an adventure.”

Patrick sold Degre 7 in 1988, having nurtured it into a renowned international brand. He moved to Millau, in the Aveyron region of France. Here he hoped to turn his energies to revitalising the local economy and supporting traditional local crafts, such as leatherwork.

This was never to happen. On March 28, 1989, he was abseiling from the top of La Beaume Rouge, a cliff not far from his home town, when a defective carabiner failed. Patrick fell 30 metres and died instantly. Reports of the accident did not miss the grim irony that a man known as the Skier of the Impossible was killed while climbing well within his abilities.

A further tragedy followed within the year, as Marie-Jo, Patrick’s wife and companion on many descents, was killed while taking part in a “reverse bungy” leap. Elasticated ropes meant to shoot her into the air were mistakenly calibrated for a 80kg man, propelling her at horrifying speed into the dolly of a crane.

Patrick Vallençant’s death sent shockwaves throughout the skiing world; many spoke of how his boundless energy had inspired them to push themselves further, and discover reserves of ability that had not known existed.

Anselme Baud summed up the feelings of many in his tribute: “Patrick was a man relentless about work, about physical performance, and about technical perfection: a whole man, ready to sacrifice everything to reach his goals. With Patrick, in the mountain or in town, it was full-on all the time. He did not know the middle way.”