DOLOMITI

Dolomites,
I loved you at first sight, a true coup de foudre, the kind that only happens a few times in a man’s life. You were so beautiful, and the more I got to know you, the more I loved you.

I have glided over you for many winters while you taught me so much, always leaving me longing in feverish anticipation of our reunions. Over time, you revealed your secrets, allowing me into the perfection of certain parts of your body. From the couloirs nestled between limestone citadels to the deep and mysterious forests where I would carve lines for weeks on end.

Today, I can say that my greatest emotions as a skier, I have lived them in the Dolomites. The sensuality of the first track on powder snow in the morning, when billions of snowflakes brush against my thighs. The moment of ecstasy shared with friends who become brothers or lovers. The wild delirium of skiing through your magnificent, deep forests, where one becomes primal again, almost animalistic, like a pack of wolves hunting.

I made a pact with you: when, by the river or on the way back, I took off my skis and became a simple pedestrian again, I would always turn back to look at my track and give you a nod or a wave. And when it was time to leave, I would always burn a bit of palo santo or sage as a gesture of recognition and gratitude.

But today, my heart aches when I look at you. The winter drought gives your mountains an eerie, desolate appearance… And the windstorm of 2018, along with a parasite, has ravaged many of your forests. I feel like I’m looking at an old, sick creature, its fur eaten away by mange.

It is painful, but your wounded frame still stands. Your colossal bones, which rose from the depths of the sea millions of years ago, have not yet crumbled, and I know that magic can return. And to fuel this hope, you still keep, in your heart and in hidden, sheltered places deep in high valleys and in arenas that, throughout the winter, almost never see the light of day, a small reserve of natural snow.

With Layla and our friend Thor, we set off for two days in search of these last oases of freshness. Stepping into our bindings, we put on skis, keys that unlock the doors to another world, one that is slowly vanishing like so many species, and whose spark we must protect and keep alive in our eyes.

At the slow rhythm of our breaths, we once again stepped into the most beautiful part of what you have to offer, a well-guarded winter secret, hidden between your walls of rock.

✒️ Bruno Compagnet
📸 Layla Kerley