The Very Real Experience That is TELE COLO's Telemark Film 'worthless milk'

In a small co-working and event space, projected on a grubby screen, I’m watching a ski film. And my head snaps to attention with every mention therein of the word telemark. It’s an involuntary reaction, and perhaps a stereotype incarnate. Who hasn’t heard the trope, how do you know someone telemarks? They’ll tell you. With the mere mention of the word, free-heelers everywhere clamor.

But as with all things misunderstood about telemark, there’s much more than meets the eye. It’s not so much that every tele skier wants to corner anyone and everyone about all things telemark; for nearly two decades the sport received so little attention in the real world that hearing its mention outside of online forum and YouTube video naturally stirs something in most free-heelers. 

But then I remember; I am in fact at a telemark film.

I’m in downtown Steamboat Springs on what feels like an apocalyptically balmy 50 degree December evening for the last stop on CJ Coccia’s months-long tour of his film “worthless milk,” now the third full-length feature put on by his grassroots free-heel org and ski crew TELE COLO. The room is full of eager patrons, many of whom are young by telemark standards–or stereotype–though not all partake. I myself talk two non-telemarking friends into joining. And when Coccia later asks the crowd how many folks present do indeed drop the knee, it’s clear they aren’t alone.

Regardless, the energy is high. And the sport had long been without this anchor that in its third iteration feels fairly permanent in a telemark world where even the availability of gear long didn’t. In so many ways, telemark is back. And CJ Coccia’s films, above all else, may embody that best.

The work is well-exceduted–both in skiing and production. But there’s more. In “worthless milk” and the outfit’s previous films, Coccia and TELE COLO have tapped into something perhaps long dormant in telemark; or perhaps even never before present. And it’s not just free-heel park skiing, whose second wave the film follows closely and astutely. It has everything to do with telemark’s newschool scene–which the film isn’t just closely aligned with; TELE COLO has essentially instigated its modern form. Like the films that preceded it, “worthless milk” captures that aesthetic; modern, trendy, even with a bit of a youthful edginess, especially for telemark skiing. And it has catalyzed a modern free-heel movement that is broadly stylish, trendy, and more tied to a contemporary sensibility.

And the lowercase, at first seemingly ironic title seems to illustrate that. Speaking to a telemark luminary of a previous generation days earlier over coffee, they noted that the title was confusing. But more poignantly, they noted that their two generations of removal from the current rise in telemark was perhaps more operative. And telemark’s generational schism is well documented, and perhaps overwrought. Coccia himself references “the forums” almost as refrain; the supposed digital bastion of an older, stale telemark cohort that marks the foil against which he, TELE COLO, and thus the budding new school define themselves against. 

TELE COLO and the new school have indeed taken some heat–much of it unnecessary–in the wilds of the internet. But watching the film we are far from the world wide web. And hard as I may try to stay objective and analytical, four beers with friends and a ski film on a Friday night fought against my journalistic pretenses. Segments took us to Japan, the tiny Rotarun ski area in Hailey, Idaho, and Breckenridge. And a cadre of skiers showed where telemark now stands, but also where it has been. 

Ty Dayberry, who as a freeride veteran of telemark’s previous apogee some twenty years ago acts as a bridge between the original telemark newschool of the aughts and its modern version, gets first billing in the film. His style and poise are as strong as ever. And younger skiers like Sal Malone and Josie Baker show what the new generation is exploring in park and backcountry via a free heel. The movie is full of strong skiing and strong filmmaking. It was fixating; my only distraction being the pressure to write down notes for this article.

Complimenting the marquee film were three shorter ones; a strong park segment by TELE COLO athlete Greg Yearsley, a perhaps hipster treatment of telemark in a backcountry ski blade scene from last season’s TELE COLO film, and a short detailing free-heel newcomer AJ Cutler’s journey to learn a certain free-heel trick.

The suite of films shows that a community has risen around TELE COLO, and “worthless milk” marks a maturity in Coccia’s work. The title references a medieval value ascribed to cat’s milk as being of no worth to human consumption, something of an inside joke amongst the cat-loving TELE COLO circle, but one that also asks the watcher what is worthy of value; a fairly metacognitive reflection for a telemark whole that has long grappled with that question, especially about their chosen turn, and especially from outside the telemark sphere.

As the film rolls by, Coccia stands back, solitary, no hangers-on, taking in the last stop of the tour like it was the first. Or perhaps in reflection of the last. 

The film showcases strong skiing and is well-made with the same high production value seen in mainline ski movies. And it’s fun. There’s a few heavy nods to brands. And the narration is perhaps a bit overbearing. But these are but asides in a film more notable for its high energy and striving for depth–in content and in-person vibe–than any posturing. It’s cool; it’s showcasing a cutting edge, and genuinely so.

There are a few perhaps staid, self-loathing jokes thrown about. And the pretense of being a free heel skier is subject to a certain amount of irony in the film. G3’s old Targa binding–often skewered as a symbol of an aged telemark demographic–is even subject to some scorn, though it’s visually well executed. But the film unavoidably leaves even the most jaded telemark skier an idealist. It also demarcates the rising but maturing newschool telemark scene’s niche, especially exemplified by a skier like AJ Cutler in her first TELE COLO outing; hard-skiing, high-energy, new to telemark, and who boasts 25,000 followers on Instagram.

At this late stage–and for worse but perhaps also better–our world remains internet-bound. But for a moment, it isn’t at a ski film. And “worthless milk” embodies a perhaps primordial energy–one that reflects the act of skiing itself. Telemark’s newschool–like any skiing newschool movement–at times appears hyperfocused on their movement, and seems to eschew metacognition in favor of fun and style, often defending that against any notion that might ask “but what about this?,” something the telemark hivemind often puts forth toward the telemark newschool in the wilds of Facebook and the like.

As a writer, it’s my duty to also wonder about such things. But watching this film from a high-top in the back of a cozy space in a ski town, it quickly renders why not everyone might share that sentiment. Because the meaning–and the fun–of a ski film is in the experience; it’s not just the movie but the mood it strikes. And “worthless milk” strikes a mood.