Saudan, born in 1936, is 74 years old at the time of the interview (2013), tanned, sprightly and makes a friendly impression. He leads the conversation right from the start - which surprises me, as the ski mountaineers I've met so far are rather taciturn. But Sylvain gives a talk about the adventure of steep face skiing. With himself as the main protagonist, of course. He is aware of his prominent position. His demeanor is naturally relaxed, which makes him extremely pleasant and likeable. A gentleman with charm.
Before the interview, he tells me about his current professional life, in which he gives talks to companies and runs a heli-skiing company in the Himalayas. We talk about steep face skiing in general and where the ideas for it came from. Again and again you notice that Saudan looks at the camera and deliberately strikes a pose. As the conversation progresses, he becomes more and more approachable, eventually we look through his book collection and he proudly shows me photos of himself as a steep face skier. It is obvious that he feels comfortable in his role as the protagonist of this sport. You can't detect any airs and graces or even arrogance in him. However, it is clear from the very first moment that this is about him. One of the defining characters of steep face skiing
Before the interview, I read Paul Dryfus' book Extremes on Skis about him. Saudan comes from a poor background, having grown up in the French-speaking Valais. He started skiing at an early age, competing in ski races and training youth ski teams. He initially worked as a truck driver and eventually qualified as a ski instructor. As such, he spent 12 months a year working around the globe. During a stay in Graubünden, he skied steep gullies on the Rothorn in the Arosa ski area for the first time on his own initiative in April 1967. Shortly afterwards, he skied the northern flank of Piz Corvatsch in Sankt Moritz. Back in Valais, he went on a trip to Chamonix with friends, as he had done many times before - this is when he came up with the idea of skiing the Spencer Couloir on the Aiguille de Blaitière. The interview begins with his comments on this.
B: What was it like in the 60s when Sylvain Saudan did the "impossible"? Where did the idea come from?
S: It was like this: I never discussed with anyone whether a descent was possible or not. I knew whether a descent had already been made or not, and I didn't have to ask anyone what they thought of the idea. Because if they thought it was possible, then someone else would have already done it. That's logical, there have always been ambitious men. But since I knew it had never been done before, I didn't have to ask anyone if it was possible. The descent through the Spencer in 1967 was the first descent in terrain that had previously belonged exclusively to alpinists. There was a lot of discussion and knowledge within mountaineering circles in Geneva about how to descend something like the Spencer. Lionel Terray, Lachenal, Rébuffat, all the big names were aware of it. Within the Alpine Club, 5,000 Swiss francs were even offered to the person who skied the couloir. Terray and Lachenal even climbed up and decided to abandon the venture at about the halfway point. My equipment was better than theirs, especially the boots, and they realized at the time that it wasn't possible with their equipment in the 50s. They were the best alpinists of their time and also very good skiers - they thought about doing something like that. But they were never able to realize it!
I only found out about these Terrays and Lachenals plans afterwards. There was the "Hotel de Paris" in Chamonix at the time. It was next to the post office and is no longer a hotel. All the great skiers, adventurers and alpinists of the time stayed there and there was a kind of competition for the first ascents. Bonatti, etc. was also there. The owner of the hotel bar told me about their plans the day after I left. We also asked Jean Juge from Geneva, who knew the climbers from Geneva very well, and he was able to confirm the story.
I never talked about it myself when I wanted to go down somewhere. Apart from my friends who helped me carry the skis up, I didn't tell anyone. After the descent, of course! To inform sponsors and the press. Before a descent, I was sure that I would make it. I never skied down anywhere if I wasn't sure! I wasn't keen on playing Russian roulette.
This certainty is very difficult to describe: there is something that lies dormant inside you, a knowledge of who you are. You can't learn this at university, but you can feel it. And secondly, it is difficult to assess the risks of an undertaking when you expose yourself to these risks. You have to be able to assess the difficulties without being in your own skin. If you can do that, you know the outcome of your endeavor in advance. There is no "click" in your head, you have to consciously bring it about.
My descents had a progression in them, I started with the Spencer and finished with an 8,000-metre peak, including intermediate stops on 6,000-metre and 7,000-metre peaks. Like the great alpinists. Messner, for example, also improved, right up to climbing the 8,000-metre peaks without additional oxygen. When the normal routes had all been grazed, the alpinists turned to more difficult routes.
B: Is there still an improvement in steep face skiing today?
S: No, I don't see any more. All the difficult descents have already been done, at least the ones without a rope. With a rope, you could probably still descend the "Grand Cappuzin", the north face of the Eiger, the north face of the Grandes Jorasses. You could abseil down, then ski a few meters, then abseil down again. I'm really exaggerating, but that's what's left today. But maybe I'm doing progress an injustice, you don't know what will be possible with skis! But there will probably be no more progress in the Alps. It's like in alpinism, there too the improvement takes place in the Himalayas.
B: Today there are also wider skis that are easier to turn, with which you can also ski quickly through large slopes.
S: Yes, but no one has ever skied down the Gervasutti so quickly and smoothly. Nobody has been able to repeat my descents in this modern style, neither the Whymper nor the Spencer. And personally, I don't want to be standing on a steep slope of 55° with wide skis. Narrower skis are much more stable and more comfortable. I've tried that out in the meantime. The ski boots are also custom-made, flattened on the outside so that you don't touch the steep slopes. Otherwise I would have slipped off the edge.
B: The Saudan era lasted about 15 years and was completed with the 8,000-meter peak?
S: Spencer, Eiger 69', that interested the press and at that time there was a news program in the cinemas in France and my descent was shown everywhere. I wasn't particularly young back then and when I was asked if I would stop skiing steep faces, I said that my goal was to ski down an 8,000-meter peak. That was a milestone for me, it was terrain that only belonged to alpinists and if I could do that, anything would be possible for me. I realized this evolution within 15 years.
B: What was the motivation behind it?
S: Well, that's difficult to answer. After climbing the Eiger, my motivation was clearly to create a progression, an evolution. I also wanted to push my own limit further. I didn't want to do the same thing somewhere else, I always wanted to do something even more difficult. In the Alps you can rest in the evening, you eat well, lie down to rest and the next morning you're off. On Mount McKinley, we first had to walk 23 days to the mountain. You sleep in tents. When you get to the 8000 meter peaks, it's a different story again. And if you also want to make a movie about the action, there are the logistics. We needed 340 porters back then. That costs money and you have more pressure to succeed. Not from the sponsors, you put it on yourself. And when you arrive at 8,000 meters, it's not like here on a mountain. You arrive and then have to ski down another side. Where there are no tracks yet! The conditions are completely different. It's not comparable with the Alps. That's why I'm talking about an evolution and if someone imitates that, I take my hat off to their performance. On McKinley, there were two alpinists on the descent who were never found again. That doesn't happen in the Alps.
Adventure for me is when you go to a remote place and do something challenging that no one has done before. If someone has done it before, then you have created an adventure for yourself, but it is no longer an adventure in the true sense.
That's why I'm in the book of the 50 greatest adventurers of the last 200 years. I have done something that no one has dared to do before. Of course, I undertook these ventures primarily for myself; I worked for others as a ski instructor or mountain guide. But the adventure was for me alone, it helped me personally. That's the essence of adventure, the second, third or fourth person has of course also gone through an adventure for themselves, but their performance can only be compared in terms of best times.
The first to dare something are the real adventurers, no matter how quickly or elegantly something is repeated by someone else. It's the first that counts. But: it's not always good to be first. Here we are in Chamonix, in the heart of the mountains. For a mountain guide, climbing through the Spencer Couloir with clients is part of the job. Back then, when I first climbed it, it cost 800 francs (note: today that would be 120 euros). Then someone comes along who skis down this tour. Of course, this increases the value of the descent, but it also massively reduces the price of the ascent. Then you were the first to have done something, but everyone says that it's no good and at the same time reduces a previously good source of income. This argument was commonplace back then. They said I was a madman, they tried to maintain the value of the ascent despite my first ascent by reducing my performance. That's why it wasn't always good to be the first ascender. I was accused of ruining the business. The second person will never be accused of this. I broke out of the skiers' sphere of action and did something that required a new evaluation of alpinism.
The attitude towards sporting performance had to be changed. From the outside, the level of the mountain professionals, the mountain guides and ski instructors, was now re-evaluated, which these professionals were of course not particularly pleased about. Until they had adjusted to the new situation.
B: What response did Sylvain Saudan give to the accusations at the time?
S: I never gave an answer. It wouldn't have done anyone any good and, in particular, it would have taken up my time to justify myself. It's not my problem in such matters how others react to my actions. Period. Of course, some have claimed that I was just lucky, but I've proven them wrong by consistently improving my runs. I was accused of being tired of life, of acting irresponsibly - and I even surpassed my performance!
B: And how was it possible to earn money with that?
S: Well, I was probably lucky that the Alpine Club of Geneva noticed that something was happening at the limit of skiing, that someone was breaking new ground. So I was able to shoot my first film with sponsors. About the Aiguille de Bionnassay. It wasn't particularly professional, but it was well received and often shown. And from then on, I had good sponsors until about five years ago, so for well over 25 years. I still have a good relationship with my former sponsors, partly because I still give talks about my films, my equipment, which I then show and so on. It's not easy to stay in the conversation over a long period of time, it only works if you gather the best people around you to produce the best possible product. In my case, that was films. It's important for sponsors that you reach a lot of people over a long period of time. That was also the case when the expedition in the Himalayas had major problems, for example. It failed, but had cost 300,000 dollars at the time. Of course, that wasn't the image we had hoped for. But that's part of the game, you have to accept that. And it went on until it worked. To make the film about the next expedition, I needed 500,000 dollars and sponsors covered half of that. I had to find the other half myself. A big risk, maybe bigger than the descent itself.
Salomon gave me 250,000 dollars! They said that the guy now had to prove to everyone that he really wanted it. And they were convinced that I could do it this time. So it was a very harmonious cooperation, they believed in me and I was able to do what I had to do.
Today, it has become much more difficult to carry out such large-scale campaigns. In my opinion, this is certainly partly due to the internet. The world is getting smaller and anyone can be anywhere in the world at any time. The mysterious, the mythical is lost. On the other hand, the value of a movie about such adventures has become smaller, they are quickly consumed and then forgotten. Back then, I wasn't just able to sell a few pictures with my films. I embodied a lifestyle and even that is hardly possible today. With cell phones and satellite phones, you are constantly in contact with civilization. You can organize relief efforts and provide information about your location. Of course, all this takes away a lot of the real adventure. So there are hardly any real adventures left today. In my day, we were on our own. For days on end, without food, with frozen toes and fingers, with no way of contacting anyone. But part of a real adventure is that you don't have a "back-up plan" that is always there. No emergency hammock but real danger. It was very different back then. Even on the world's oceans, you couldn't just phone and call for help. The public has also changed. If someone were to fly naked with a paraglider from Everest to base camp today and they were only wearing sandals, they would be asked today: "Why are you wearing sandals? This question would never have occurred to journalists in the past. Nowadays we are used to all sorts of things. We used to have freedom, we could go off and there were lots of adventures. Those who still want to do something like that today have a much harder time than we did back then.
Except in the Himalayas and such remote places, there are virtually no more opportunities to experience real adventures. But the big adventures have already happened, that's over! Except in the technical field, for example when someone flies over the Atlantic in a mini helicopter to see if it's even possible. That's still a real adventure. And of course there's still space, but that's also very technical. Wherever nobody can tell you how it's done, there are still adventures to be had. Adventure means going where no one has gone before, where there is no path, where no one has yet proven that it can be done. That was always the case on my trips, no one had ever done it before. Especially on the McKinley and in the Himalayas. The skis slide just as quickly there as they do here. But the muscles, all sensory impressions and thoughts are much slower. You don't know that beforehand, someone has to have done it and lived through it.
But there will always be personal adventures. Someone who has lived in their village for 50 years and then gets on an airplane for the first time is also going through an adventure, but one that many people have had before them. If I were born today, my life would probably be very different. I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time to follow my talent and realize my goals. I don't envy the youth of today, I wouldn't know what to do with modern life. Maybe something would come up, but I don't know.
Historical footage of Saudan in the Himalayas:
B: Today's steep face skiing has become quite technical. Abseiling is often part of it. What do you think of that?
S: I'm totally against that. It takes away a lot. If you have a rope or a parachute, then everything becomes much easier. Anyone can do it with these aids. You know that if you fall, you're not risking anything. In places that are technically and psychologically more difficult, you simply lower a rope down and anyone can do it. At least anyone who can abseil. This means you can abseil down any rocky wall, at the so-called limit. Just having a backpack with a rope in it changes the game, because you know you could save yourself. I've always done my descents without a backpack and without a rope, just on skis. And that's something completely different! You become much more aware of the danger, the pressure increases enormously, much more adventure. That's why I say that a descent with a rope doesn't have the same value, not the same quality.
B: What about descents that wouldn't be possible without abseiling?
S: If you can't do it without, then you can't do it as a ski descent. Maybe one day someone will come along who can only do it with skis. If you had asked Spencer 48 hours before my descent through the Couloir whether it was possible, the answer would always have been that it wasn't possible, but that maybe one day someone would come along who could do it. The same applies today.
B: The downhill options with skis only are therefore few, they are limited.
S: Everything is limited! There aren't many new first ascents of peaks! There are no longer any 8,000-metre peaks that you could be the first to climb. But in the Himalayas there are still countless descents that can be skied for the first time. Why don't the potential first-time skiers go to the Himalayas more often and bring proof of their descents with them? I came back with a movie of my 8,000-meter ascent! Just like alpinists bring proof of their ascent, skiers have to show proof of their descent.
Steep face skiing is like reverse alpinism, it's the way down that counts. I am the first to accept real proof! Unfortunately, there are many examples of liars who take photos of themselves skiing down a mountain with a ski track in the background. But it's also very easy to manipulate.
B: Why do people take such risks?
S: That's difficult to answer. I basically think that everyone does what they are made for. Unfortunately, that's not true everywhere, many people have to live under duress and are not free to do what they were made for. But those who are lucky enough to grow up freely and find their destiny early on, although that wasn't really early for me as I was already over 30 when I started extreme skiing, they can realize themselves and take risks to do so. What I want to say is that there are people who are born for adventure, recognize it and then go for it. They live this attitude to the end. At least that's how I feel.
In contrast, I reject a life that is supposed to be "whatever the cost" at the limit. In my opinion, the goal of life is to live the life you want for a long time and persistently, not to risk it lightly. That doesn't mean that you can't throw everything into the balance from time to time, but you have to be thoughtful and intelligent in order to make the most of yourself. Today I am the banker of my physical capabilities, which unfortunately diminish with age, but that's how everyone has to budget. Whenever I reached my limit, I realized that I still had a little reserve. When I reached my limit, I looked a little further and pushed the reserve further up. Physically and technically - the two go together. Everyone always believes that top performance only depends on maximum training success, but that's not true - you need the right mental attitude to be able to call up the performance. And that's not just the case with steep face skiing, it applies to all areas of life.
B: How did you find this mental attitude?
S: When I was ten years old, I tended the cows and sheep on my father's mountain pasture. I had to spend the night in a holey hut with our dog. That went on for 40 days, with my father coming to check on things from time to time. There was a high plateau where me and the animals were, two hundred meters further down was the spring. The path there was steep and quite dangerous. I had to walk down every day to fetch water for the cattle. It was hard work for a ten-year-old. So I took the animals that were safest to move down to water them. Then I went back up with them. About half the herd got to the water that way, I still had to carry the other half up, but it was a lot less work. However, my father had always said that I was not allowed to do this so as not to endanger the valuable animals. But I didn't tell him and covered up the footprints. Of course, he noticed anyway. He confronted me: "Sylvain, I had forbidden you to lead the animals to the spring." I replied that I had chosen the most suitable ones, the ones with the best sure-footedness. From then on, I was allowed to continue descending to the spring with them. My father had accepted my prudent choice and trusted me. It was then that the adventurer in me grew, I dared to do the things I wanted to do after thinking about it.
Saudan's first ascents:
April 1967 - Rothorn Rinne
May 1967 - Piz Corvatsch North Face
September 23, 1967 - Aiguille de Blaitière - Spencer Couloir
June 10, 1968 - Aiguille Verde - Spencer Couloir
June 10, 1968 - Aiguille Verde - Spencer Couloir. June 1968 - Aiguille Verte - Whimper Couloir
October 17, 1968 - Mont Blanc du Tacul - Gervasutti Couloir
June 10, 1969 - Monte Rosa - Marinelli Couloir
October 6, 1969 - Aiguille de Bionassay - North Face
9. March 1970 - Eiger - Northwest Face
March 3, 1971 - Mount Hood - Northeast Face
April 11, 1971 - Grandes Jorasses - South Face
June 9-10, 1972 - Mount McKinley (Denali) - Southwest Face
June 24, 1973 - Mont Blanc - Southwest Face
June 26, 1977 - Nun Kun (7.135m) in the Himalayas
July 27-28, 1982 - Gasherbrum I (Hidden Peak, 8,068m) in the Himalayas
September 23, 1986 - Mount Fuji on its 50th birthday - without snow
Sylvain Saudan knew long before Candide Thovex: you don't necessarily need snow to ski.
Saudan, a controversial personality
Sylvain Saudan can also be viewed critically in some places. So let's get down to business - what can be criticized about Mr. Saudan's career and for what he deserves envious recognition?
First of all, the points of criticism:
Firstly, of course, there is the fact that Sylvain obviously has few first ascents to his name. By my count, 12 of them. Compared to others, Pierre Tardivel, Stefano de Benedetti or Heini Holzer, this is a ridiculously low number - each of the aforementioned gentlemen alone has over 100 confirmed first ascents. So why the hype surrounding Saudan?
In addition, none of his first ascents were excessively difficult by today's standards, and presumably even those of his time. He himself admits that there were already discussions in mountaineering circles about carrying out such undertakings. Other examples: Climbing the Pallavicini Gully with firn gliders in the early 1960s or the Fuscherkarkopf north face in the mid-1930s on ragged wooden skis and with leather boots were also somehow comparably difficult.
On his descents, Sylvain Saudan often resorted to using porters for equipment including skis. He often only put on his skier's gear at the start of the descent, mutating from mountaineer to skier. This pretty much contradicts the ethos that now prevails that descents only count if they have been climbed under their own steam beforehand. There is even a kind of "manifesto" by Anselme Baud and Patrick Vallençant. However: the first steep face riders probably didn't think about any ethical issues, they just wanted to be the first down somewhere - it didn't matter how they got up there.
I was told by two sources that not everything may have been above board, especially on the non-European ascents. What exactly, whether the descents were even completed in full length, whether everything was done on skis, how much help came from outside, everyone is stubbornly silent about. But when they heard the name Saudan, they shook their heads. I can no longer verify what exactly happened there - a chapter that was shrouded in silence.
He did his thing - without looking left or right. He had little or no contact with others in his profession. In other words, he was a maverick who went about his business with little or no regard for losses.
But what Saudan managed to do:
He was the right man in the right place at the right time - and he knew it. His flair for getting the press excited about his stories enabled him to reach a huge audience. This was the only way steep face skiing became known at all. Ideas mature, technique and perception change over time. It took exactly this guy at this time to truly launch a new discipline of alpinism. No other steep face skier before or since has managed to generate so much media attention. Saudan was "mainstream" - his films ran up and down the cinemas and were seen by everyone from amateur alpinists to house mothers. The steep face skier who had descended the Eiger was known around the world.
His instinct for the right action at the right time went so far that he also carried out the media-effective descents at the best time. Looking back, the interval between his campaigns was ideally timed to maintain a consistently high level of media pressure for his cause. First of all, every year, a few, by the standards of the time, intense actions were placed in such a way that he was always remembered and then the breaks were extended so that his expeditions were anticipated with just the right amount of excitement. Even today, anyone who has anything to do with marketing can take a closer look at this to appreciate the underlying strategy.
Back then, almost everyone found it very difficult to earn money from sponsors for sporting achievements. Formula 1 drivers and professional footballers could make a living - but not alpinists - that was just a serious hobby. Hermann Buhl, the first climber of Nanga Parbat, had to work very regularly as a mountain guide and sports salesman just 10 years earlier in order to be able to earn a living at all. Even then, the great alpinists were mostly wealthy private individuals who were not dependent on financial injections. Sylvain Saudan was first a truck driver and then a ski instructor! The financial cushion must have looked accordingly.
Collecting enough sponsorship money for a completely new discipline so that he could afford a sports car was certainly not easy. On the other hand, it was also about reaching the final frontiers. In this respect, Sylvain was right in tune with the spirit of the times. Many a freeride pro today would be happy to earn anywhere near as much as Saudan did back then. The combination of films, reporting, lectures and sponsors made it "good".
Mountain sports enthusiasts are always somehow suspicious of marketing and sponsorship, a bit like artists, musicians or actors. Sylvain Saudan knew how to tap into the zeitgeist at the time and create a business model that has provided him with a decent living for the rest of his life. Anyone today who decides to lead a life as a professional athlete, artist or similar will find Saudan a role model for how this can be achieved. The mechanisms have probably not changed that much - everything has just become much faster.
Of course, his descents were not quite as trivially simple as suggested above. In addition to having a feel for the right descents at the right time, he also had the skills as a skier and alpinist to really get involved in the adventures. In our conversations, he always emphasized that he always played it safe and that nothing serious ever happened to him. Nevertheless, it was often a close call - and his first expedition went badly wrong. But a lot still goes wrong on expeditions today. Back then, people simply didn't know a lot of things. In this respect, he was simply an excellent planner, strategist, fearless and perhaps a little naive. Exactly what is often still needed today.
Despite all the publicity and attention, he has remained a very likeable, open and nice person. He certainly can't be accused of having the airs and graces of a diva. Of course, he is the center of attention in his universe, but you can't hold that against him - after all, he created this universe himself.
Conclusion:
I got to know Sylvain Saudan as a nice, likeable and above all outstanding person from whom you can learn a lot. It was fun to interview him on the phone and live. At first, it was quite difficult to reach him at all, as he spent a lot of time in Kashmir running his company. (At over 70, I'm sure not many people do that). I can't remember how many times I wrote him emails and left a message on his voicemail. A lot! I had actually already given up - not everyone is available and certainly not for some guys who want to do an interview. But at some point my phone rang and I didn't even know who was calling. He was friendly and courteous and invited me to his place in Chamonix. This showed me that he is certainly not resting on his laurels and is still the lively go-getter we know as an observer of his career. I was also surprised by his openness to criticism, which he then skilfully sidestepped rhetorically. He sees himself as exactly what he is - the one who was lucky enough to be there at a certain point in time, had the right skills and contacts and put it all together to call it a career. He has undoubtedly succeeded and for that he definitely deserves the credit of being the first real steep skier - because without him, all of this would have taken much longer. I spoke to a lot of ski mountaineers for my research and every single one who came after him named him as a role model.
