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Into the Alps

Into the Restricted Alps: Splitboarding in an Austrian Military Zone

Words by: Billy Madej

Photos by: Leslie Ann and Billy Madej

Last month the Spark Crew traveled to Austria to showcase our 25/26 product line at Shops 1st Try. SFT is a hybrid gathering featuring both on-snow demos and indoor booths specific to snowboard gear. We got to ride Skigebiet Hochfügen with industry friends, high five our European dealers and talk splitboarding. 

While SFT was the main reason for our trip, that’s not the story I want to share today.

With business wrapped up, it was time for the crew to have some fun. We teamed up with George Onderdelinden from Snowcountry.eu, Leslie Ann from Leslie Ann Photography, and Spark R&D Team Guide Markus Moser for a splitboarding adventure.

Riders, Left to Right: Markus Moser (Team Guide), Will Ritter (Spark R&D Owner/Engineer), Billy Madej (Marketing Manager), Luke Dale (Sales Manager), George Onderdelinden (Snowcountry.eu).

Markus, the founder of Summit Splitboarding Austria, had an idea—an overnight trip to a remote alpine hut to ride some north-facing lines. With much of the area covered in thin snow and sun crusts, he knew this was our best bet for good conditions.

Our first thought? We don’t have sleeping bags or gear for a night in the mountains. But Markus quickly put our worries to rest. The hut had blankets, food, water, and even a hot shower if we wanted one. That was all the convincing we needed. It was time to head into the Austrian backcountry.

With just two days left in Austria, we met up with the crew and caravanned to the trailhead, ready for a new adventure. The plan was a two-hour skin from the parking lot to our hut, and with German beats radio blasting through the rental van speakers, our stoke was high. But as we made the final turn up the winding Austrian mountain road, our excitement turned to curiosity—we had just stumbled upon a fleet of military vehicles and a checkpoint blocking our path.

Markus waved us into our parking spot and hit us with some unexpected good news—we wouldn’t have to skin to the hut after all. Turns out, we had entered an Austrian military base, and a rugged taxi with chains was waiting to shuttle us up to our destination. As we took it all in, a sign nearby read: “Herzlich Willkommen, Unser Heer, Wir Schützen Österreich”—translated to “Welcome, our army, we protect Austria.”

We grabbed the last of our gear, laced up our boots, and loaded the van with small packs and our splitboards. As we rolled up to the gate, two soldiers armed with assault rifles stopped us, questioning our plans and destination. In that moment, it hit us—we were about to step into an experience that few people will ever get to see. 

With vehicle assistance replacing our two-hour hike, we suddenly had the entire day to regroup at the hut, lighten our packs, and explore the surrounding terrain. To our surprise, the “hut” was more like a full-on lodge—running water, gear heaters, multiple heated rooms, a full bar, and even complimentary Crocs. We were stoked.

As we prepped for our first day of touring, we got some unexpected news—the area we planned to ride was off-limits due to firearms training exercises. Then we heard it: pop pop pop pop pop. They weren’t kidding. Live rounds were being fired less than 100 yards from the hut.

Our strike mission changed immediately. Markus, clearly frustrated that no one had mentioned the exercises, quickly shifted gears. With his expert knowledge and an extensive map of the region, he found us a new zone with the potential for fresh lines.

Lizumerhutte

We geared up put on our skins, strapped into our bindings, and began our first steps on a skin track in a militarized zone. We were instructed to stick to the beaten path until reaching a certain elevation, but with the first storm in weeks on the horizon, Leslie made sure to snap as many photos as she could before the light started to fade. We pushed ahead, hoping to catch a bit of sunshine for a few shots before the storm rolled in.

After about 1,500 feet of climbing, we arrived at our descent point and transitioned for our first run. The line was pristine, untouched, and full of promise. Marcus and Will chose the higher route, navigating a spicy boot pack over some rocks, while George, Luke, and I took the fall line down the couloir. The snow was thin and sugary all the way to the base, but the avalanche risk was low, so we took turns ripping the line. As Will dropped in, I saw the snow shift, and his board uncovered rocks, but as he continued further down, the snow began to show more depth. When it was my turn, I embraced my inner geologist and found a few more rocks, helping to pave the way for the rest of the team. The line had soft snow and decent coverage, which made for a fun, challenging ride. We shared some laughs, a few crashes, and made our way to the next transition. 

Marcus Moser

Marcus had spotted a north-facing bowl from the top of our previous run, so we set off in that direction. The wind had picked up, so we knew we needed to stick to a protected area for comfort. After another 800 feet of climbing, we reached a col while Leslie stayed behind, catching some photos. At this point, the wind was howling, and the snow had hardened. While the conditions weren’t ideal, we embraced the challenge and had fun on a low-angled face with poor visibility. A quick transition later, it was time for lunch: ribs, Spanish meats, cheeses, and tubed mayo. Full bellies and great vibes made for a perfect mid-day break. Afterward, we geared up for our final push of the day. Another 1,000 feet of climbing took us to a protected ledge overlooking a couloir we’d had our eye on. Initially off-limits due to military shooting exercises, Marcus had double-checked the map and confirmed that we could safely ride it if we stayed left above the beaten path.

By the time we reached the top, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the clouds were rolling in. We could see 3,000 feet down to the hut, just one more line to rip before returning to the comfort of our Austrian hut. Luke dropped first, carving the top half of the line like he was back at Bridger Bowl, disappearing after the convex roll and reappearing at our meeting spot 1,200 feet below. Will followed, skillfully navigating the variable snow. Then it was my turn. After a fall in my first line (thanks to some rocks), I was amped to rip down this line with ease, especially since this was the line we had seen from the van on the way in. Once the Spark Boys were safely at the regroup spot, George, Leslie, and Marcus made their way down, weaving through the variable snow conditions. We celebrated the ride with smiles, high fives, and hoots, capturing the essence of the day. Despite the inconsistent snow and overcast skies, we found plenty of good terrain to ride.

Austria Military Zone

It’s a strange feeling to reenter a military base on a splitboard, especially when you're required to take the army trail back to the hut. The sound of gunshots from assault rifles echoed throughout the day, but as Montanans, we understood the importance of firearm safety. When we finally returned to the hut, the sun had set, and we settled in with a well-deserved meal, drinks, and a few rounds of schnapps. We discussed the following day's plan, mapped out our route, and made decisions for the morning departure. Tired but content, we enjoyed a peaceful night of sleep, knowing the next day's adventure would come quickly.

The morning arrived fast, and the packing was easy. We gathered in the main room for cappuccinos, a light breakfast, and final trip details. Our plan was to ascend towards the first peak we rode, reach the saddle, descend into the next valley, and spend the day touring before making our final push back to the car.

As we left the hut with all our gear packed, we were reminded that the military was still conducting firearm exercises. ATV-mounted snowcats whizzed by with rifles attached to the machines, and we followed the path, which was packed down and made for easy travel. Once we reached the saddle, the wind hit us hard, and we had to secure our gear tightly. The storm was finally upon us. This canyon was sparse on snow, but we pieced together a run through large rocks and a small gully, keeping a sharp eye on the cliffs below. After our first descent of the day, we took a break for more meat, cheese, and Austrian chocolate. The visibility was quickly fading, but we made our way up the canyon to tackle one last line.

The Crew

Will, George, and Luke scouted a lower face to see if it was worth risking an easy route back to the car. Will strapped in, took two turns, and quickly spotted a creek below, so we opted out and took the safer route. At this point, the road back to the car was in sight. Luke, Leslie, and I decided to take the road, enjoying some side hits on the 2,000-foot descent, while the other group took a more adventurous route through some shaded trees, scoring some of the best snow of the trip.

Back at the van, we shared the left over snacks, held a quick debrief and let the entire trip sink in. What a ride—unexpected military detours, thin but rideable snow, some solid lines, and plenty of laughs. It was not the deepest snow or the easiest touring but it was an adventure through and through. Huge shoutout to Markus and Leslie for making it all happen.

 

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