Over the roll and without a doubt after following a simple routine to clear snow/ice from a tech binding.

Over the roll and without a doubt after following a simple routine to clear snow/ice from a tech binding.

 

Tech bindings can sometimes be finicky. Find a workable routine to ensure your tech bindings are secure on your boots before committing to the line.

 

As we write this, there’s roughly, and near exactly, 12 hours and 32 minutes of sunlight at the 45th parallel. As nature does its thing, we’ve gained 32 minutes of available sunlight since the spring equinox. And as things go in the Northern Hemi, unless you are smack dab on the Equator, your days will get unequivocally brighter until the Fall Solstice. So, hang on to your sunglasses. And your skis.

The pending freeze-thaw cycle also means many of us will chase corn snow. At a minimum, we are likely to skin, crampon, and ski on firm snow in the spring. Firm snow, oftentimes, means increased potential for sliding down the snow in an uncontrolled fashion. It follows that remaining upright and in your skimpy little tech bindings is paramount. Part of remaining in your tech bindings is developing a routine atop the slope to ensure snow/ice isn’t impeding the toe unit’s pins from fully engaging in your boot-toe inserts, the heel pins pop into place, and the heel turret is aligned in the forward position.

Last winter, on an up-and-down day type traverse, I snapped my toe into place (all good), snapped my heel into the pins (I thought all good), and was about to ski down on steepish-firm snow where any slide other than one controlled by my ski edges would have been bad. Moments before I schussed off, a partner alerted me that a heel unit was misaligned: the heel turret was maybe 15 degrees askew. At the least, my heel had real potential, with light lateral pressure, to rotate and release. 

This winter, I had two pre-releases that got my attention. As far as I know, these pre-releases were user errors. And for now, I’m blaming hasty transitions where I didn’t completely clear my tech toes of snow and ice before clicking in. On both occasions, which I’ll detail, the toes didn’t seem excessively packed with snow or ice—nonetheless, I learned to take time, and clear my toes more thoroughly. Further, on both occasions, my post-release forensics found the heels weren’t rotated; they remained in the pins-forward orientation. (This is an indication the release likely originated at the toe unit.)

The first pre-release was benign enough, a deep, yet somewhat heavy powder day. (It’s Oregon). I made maybe four turns, and popoff came the ski. About five minutes later, after ample digging, I found the ski and the pole. I use leashes with these skis, yet the ski was unleashed at the time.

The second pre-release ended well but could have been much worse. I’ve got a habit of touring the afternoon of Super Bowl Sunday. On this solo tour, I found the terrain empty. We were in a January corn cycle, and I skinned to ski a run I’d been on two days prior. I transitioned from crampons to skis around 3 pm—ideal timing for a few inches of corn to canvas the slope. I recall stepping into the toes, hearing the audible “thwap” of pin-into-toe-insert engagement, pivoting my heel up and down to clear the pins of any snow/ice in the insert, and snapping my heel into place. This time, I glanced back to ensure my heel units were properly aligned.

After something like 30-40 turns on what was fine, thinly layered corn skiing, my downhill ski popped off, and I began to slide. I had not locked out my toes as I deemed a potential lethal slide as a very low probability, but I did have leashes engaged. I jettisoned my uphill ski pole and, after stating an audible F-bomb or three, began self-arresting with the ski pole grip. This was no excessively high-speed slide, but I did have enough momentum and speed to think I was going for a 1000-foot ride. After 4-5 seconds, I slowly stopped as the pole grip bit into the slope. Thanks for asking, yes, this all got my attention. The obvious follow-up is asking if I should have locked my toes out. Like many, I have a particular calculus regarding locking out; on this occasion, I chose not to lock out.

 

Stop. Take a moment. Go through the routine.

Stop. Take a moment. Go through the routine.

 

 

The small screw driver that is now stashed in the pack to help clear snow/ice from under the tech toe unit.

The small screw driver that is now stashed in the pack to help clear snow/ice from under the tech toe unit springs.

 

Changing Habits and Finding Routines

I’m changing my routine somewhat. With the ski removed, I am engaging (it’s really snapping the springs) the toe lever from unlocked to locked mode several times to help jostle/loosen any ice under the toe. I’m also packing a small screwdriver to help clear snow/ice from under my tech binding toe units. Lastly, I am shortening the handle of a firm toothbrush to have another tool to clear snow/ice remnants from under the toe area. Maybe this is excessive, but I am taking heed of the two strikes against me.

I am also continuing to raise my boot heel up and down 4-5 times to clear the toe pins before clicking my heel into place.

You might have guessed that when I take the time to clear out snow/ice from under the toe piece, I must remove my ski while transitioning. So far, my partners seem ok with that. I’ve also gone back to ensure my heel gaps are set at the proper specs and that toe, heel, and plate screws are tightened.