Altavia Crew
OVS presents Altavia Crew, the editorial project in partnership with Athleta Lab. Discipline, talent and dedication told by those who challenge their limits every day, through sport and adventure.
“From a young age, I learned to know and feel the snow. Emotions that made the mountains familiar to me… and the sense of freedom.”
Interview with Deborah Compagnoni
Born in Santa Caterina, the places of her childhood have shaped her entire life and career. Skiing made her a queen of the snow, one of the most successful and iconic athletes in Italian sports history, and beyond. Throughout her athletic rise, she has always combined a deep mountain sensitivity with a strong connection to her high-altitude culture.
A communicator and ultimate skiing symbol, she has over time spoken and written about life at high altitude, standing out for her advocacy work in environmental protection.
She is now the driving force and signature behind the Altavia collection, translating her philosophy and approach to the mountains into garments and their meanings.
If you close your eyes and let your mind go to Santa Caterina, what are the first images that come to mind? And what does that place mean to you?
“When I close my eyes and look for the farthest image, but also the most vivid one inside me, I return to being a child. I see myself in the hotel kitchen, behind the curtains at the window: outside, it’s snowing, there’s so much snow, and I see people walking, pushing along the street with skis on their feet. It’s a memory that stays very vivid. I even wrote about it in a small book of stories: that scene is like a flash, almost like a postcard. I remember perfectly the hotel entrance door from the side, and the guests coming in and out while it continues to snow outside. Santa Caterina and those childhood places have been fundamental for my whole journey: there I took my first steps on the snow, I learned to know it, to feel it. I spent a lot of time outdoors, even in summer. When I think of winter, I inevitably think of skiing, the path that eventually became my life. The emotions I carry inside are all linked to that element, the snow, and the sense of peace surrounding it. A peace that has always been a constant for me. I often return to Santa Caterina, I still spend many months there every year. In autumn, for example: it’s one of my favorite seasons. Even in summer, I have lived and still live a lot in the mountains: walks, forests, meadows, animals… That freedom has always belonged to me, and I think it was my secret in skiing too. Before competitions, to focus, I didn’t need a mental coach or special techniques: it was enough to return in my mind to those memories, immerse myself in that peace. And immediately I felt the weight of pressure lighten.”
If you close your eyes and let your mind go to Santa Caterina, what are the first images that come to mind? And what does that place mean to you?
“When I close my eyes and look for the farthest image, but also the most vivid one inside me, I return to being a child. I see myself in the hotel kitchen, behind the curtains at the window: outside, it’s snowing, there’s so much snow, and I see people walking, pushing along the street with skis on their feet. It’s a memory that stays very vivid. I even wrote about it in a small book of stories: that scene is like a flash, almost like a postcard. I remember perfectly the hotel entrance door from the side, and the guests coming in and out while it continues to snow outside. Santa Caterina and those childhood places have been fundamental for my whole journey: there I took my first steps on the snow, I learned to know it, to feel it. I spent a lot of time outdoors, even in summer. When I think of winter, I inevitably think of skiing, the path that eventually became my life. The emotions I carry inside are all linked to that element, the snow, and the sense of peace surrounding it. A peace that has always been a constant for me. I often return to Santa Caterina, I still spend many months there every year. In autumn, for example: it’s one of my favorite seasons. Even in summer, I have lived and still live a lot in the mountains: walks, forests, meadows, animals… That freedom has always belonged to me, and I think it was my secret in skiing too. Before competitions, to focus, I didn’t need a mental coach or special techniques: it was enough to return in my mind to those memories, immerse myself in that peace. And immediately I felt the weight of pressure lighten.”
Recently, you wrote the book “A Mountain Girl.” What still makes you feel like one today? And what does it mean to be a mountain girl?
“I believe what still makes me feel like a mountain girl is, above all, simplicity. And the fact that I haven’t changed inside. The values that have always accompanied me remain solid, rooted within me. I have lived many experiences in life: not only those related to competitions, medals, or injuries. Like everyone, I have gone through highs and lows, different phases. Then came the period of motherhood, lived in a completely new environment compared to skiing. And after that chapter, there was the return: a natural calling toward my dimension, toward the mountains. Perhaps, at first, I had stepped away because I was a bit saturated by everything surrounding success: the attention, the popularity, the crowd. I have always appreciated feeling people’s affection, having a fan club, but at some point that visibility takes away part of your private life. I needed to find balance. So, I lived another life, and only afterward did I feel the desire to return: to rediscover my places, my passions, those connected to skiing and nature I grew up with. I have remained who I was, I think, also because I enjoy building true, sincere relationships with people. The book was born from all of this: from the memories I had in my head, still alive, made of emotions and images from childhood. Many of the stories I wrote were tales I told my children or nieces. At a certain point, I thought: I’ll put them in writing, so they will remain. They are small fragments that also make you smile, but still keep the flavor of the past.”
Where and how did you write it?
“I wrote almost all of it in the mountains: it was the place where I felt most inspired. Memories surfaced so strongly there that many more came to mind than I eventually included. I had promised myself to write 20 stories, and I wrote 20… but I could have continued with many more. It was wonderful to focus and relive the past. My family is a bit mixed. My mother has Venetian roots: my maternal grandfather was from Venice and had moved to Bormio. So, on that side, I also have a bit of ‘sea blood.’ On my father’s side, the roots are completely mountainous: my grandmother was from Valfurva, and our family has a long tradition both as farmers and as alpine guides. My grandfather, for example, was a guide and ran the Pizzini refuge, which still exists today: my cousins continue to manage it, right at the foot of Gran Zebrù. He, along with others, founded the first ski school in Valfurva. Let’s say my story intertwines with the early steps of tourism in these valleys. My father has always passed down this passion for memory: he is a great lover of past stories. He loves telling them, preserving them, and I believe that, in the end, my book is also about this: a way to pass things on. Because it is always wonderful to know where you come from and try to share it with others.”
Where and how did you write it?
“I wrote almost all of it in the mountains: it was the place where I felt most inspired. Memories surfaced so strongly there that many more came to mind than I eventually included. I had promised myself to write 20 stories, and I wrote 20… but I could have continued with many more. It was wonderful to focus and relive the past. My family is a bit mixed. My mother has Venetian roots: my maternal grandfather was from Venice and had moved to Bormio. So, on that side, I also have a bit of ‘sea blood.’ On my father’s side, the roots are completely mountainous: my grandmother was from Valfurva, and our family has a long tradition both as farmers and as alpine guides. My grandfather, for example, was a guide and ran the Pizzini refuge, which still exists today: my cousins continue to manage it, right at the foot of Gran Zebrù. He, along with others, founded the first ski school in Valfurva. Let’s say my story intertwines with the early steps of tourism in these valleys. My father has always passed down this passion for memory: he is a great lover of past stories. He loves telling them, preserving them, and I believe that, in the end, my book is also about this: a way to pass things on. Because it is always wonderful to know where you come from and try to share it with others.”
What other mountain disciplines have accompanied you in life, besides skiing?
“I have always been deeply curious about everything related to outdoor movement. Since I was little, I loved riding my bike: I have pictures of myself, tiny, already without training wheels, riding calmly everywhere. I’ve always loved cycling. When I joined the national team, they told us that cycling was excellent training and that we needed a racing bike. I remember buying it with my grandmother’s help, who contributed to the cost. From that moment, the bike became an inseparable companion. Whenever I had some free time, I would go out alone, even in the afternoons, climbing the hills around Santa Caterina, often up to Passo Gavia. Once, the lady at the mountain hut gave me rubber kitchen gloves because my hands were frozen. Then mountain bikes arrived. In the United States they were already popular, and in 1986 they sent me an MTB; I was sixteen or seventeen. I was fascinated by the idea of going off-road, exploring trails, not just asphalt. Later, the national team decided that cycling ‘slowed down training too much’ and told us to stop… but I continued anyway, because I loved it too much. I often trained on the trails around Santa Caterina: sprints, jumps, agility exercises on the meadows. I still remember those places vividly. Once the snow arrived, I enjoyed cross-country skiing. I’ve never liked the gym: first, because there weren’t many, and second, because I’ve always loved training outdoors. I was drawn to the freedom of moving in open space. The idea of closing myself in a room to lift weights was not for me. Even today, when I see videos of modern athletes always in the gym, I think: ‘Why stay inside when the world is out there?’ I did everything outside: jumps, running, balance, agility, even on uneven terrain. Perhaps this is what trained me the most, because it gave me sensitivity, coordination, and body awareness – all in a natural, spontaneous way.”
“I still feel like a mountain girl, because I haven’t changed inside. Because I continue to savor the beauty of movement in nature.”
And what was it like to live and discover mountains around the world during your career?
“As I said, every journey was a discovery. It was one of the most beautiful aspects of that life: getting to know new places, different cultures, but also returning to places I had already seen and finding them changed. I remember, for example, my first time in Vail, Colorado, in 1989. I went back ten years later, in 1999, at the end of my career: it felt like seeing a familiar place completely transformed. Every mountain revealed a different soul to me. Some experiences were more ‘classic’, others very unique and unexpected. But each one left something behind. Perhaps because, wherever I went, I always tried to build the same kind of bond I had learned to create in my own mountains: a deep, quiet connection with nature and with places.”
Did skiing change your relationship with the mountains? If so, how?
“I would say no, because my career developed gradually. I arrived at competitive skiing in the right way, following the entire path from youth teams onward. I was able to experience every stage with awareness, savoring each step, and for this I am deeply grateful: to my parents, and to the life I was able to live. It gave me extraordinary experiences: travel, encounters, discoveries. I saw the United States, Japan, Canada, South America. And doing so in those years, between the late ’80s and the ’90s, still had a true sense of adventure. Today everything is faster and easier, but back then every journey felt like discovering a new world. That experience enriched me immensely.”
During the periods when you were away from the mountains, did you miss your places?
“At first, yes, but it wasn’t a rejection. It was more a need for distance from Santa Caterina, where everyone would come looking for me. I could no longer experience it with serenity: I felt observed, pursued, and I needed to hide a little. I also lived well on the plains, in the city, but I missed the views. Opening the window and seeing the mountains, breathing that fresh, clean air… they may seem like small things, but for me they were real necessities. I was still fortunate, because I could often take refuge in nature: maybe not in the mountains every week, but almost—toward the Dolomites or similar places. So I wouldn’t say I suffered, but yes: the call of the mountains has always remained strong, alive.”
Which values of the mountains shaped you and supported you as an athlete?
“I believe skiing is a combination of elements: technique, of course, but also sensitivity, adaptability, awareness of one’s body and of the environment. The technical aspect is essential, but the way you absorb it as a child makes the difference. In my case, everything happened naturally, without pressure. The first steps on snow, playing outdoors, that constant contact with the environment: all of this shaped a particular sensitivity in me. Perhaps a gift, but above all an innate familiarity with snow and with the rhythm of the mountains. I shouldn’t be the one to say it, but I can see the difference between those who become exceptional athletes and those who don’t. That ‘something extra’ often comes precisely from a natural relationship with the discipline, from a personal way of living it. I, for example, was very independent: I didn’t put too much pressure on myself, I didn’t always follow set patterns. I trained a lot, but in my own way. I liked to invent my own training sessions even in summer: they told me not to ride a bike, and I did it anyway, sometimes up to Passo Gavia, then I would leave the bike and continue on foot. It was all part of my way of living sport. When you do something with pleasure, it becomes your strength. And perhaps that is exactly what took me so far.”
Which values of the mountains shaped you and supported you as an athlete?
“I believe skiing is a combination of elements: technique, of course, but also sensitivity, adaptability, awareness of one’s body and of the environment. The technical aspect is essential, but the way you absorb it as a child makes the difference. In my case, everything happened naturally, without pressure. The first steps on snow, playing outdoors, that constant contact with the environment: all of this shaped a particular sensitivity in me. Perhaps a gift, but above all an innate familiarity with snow and with the rhythm of the mountains. I shouldn’t be the one to say it, but I can see the difference between those who become exceptional athletes and those who don’t. That ‘something extra’ often comes precisely from a natural relationship with the discipline, from a personal way of living it. I, for example, was very independent: I didn’t put too much pressure on myself, I didn’t always follow set patterns. I trained a lot, but in my own way. I liked to invent my own training sessions even in summer: they told me not to ride a bike, and I did it anyway, sometimes up to Passo Gavia, then I would leave the bike and continue on foot. It was all part of my way of living sport. When you do something with pleasure, it becomes your strength. And perhaps that is exactly what took me so far.”
Does the mountains still amaze you?
“Of course. The mountains continue to fascinate me every day, always offering a new discovery. I consider myself lucky because I still have the chance to travel and experience different mountains, different rocks. I love the direct contact with the mountains: I enjoy climbing, touching them, feeling the living matter beneath my hands. And what I love most, perhaps, is exploration. Going alone, walking, crossing the edge of the forest. I like the forest, but not too dense: maybe because I grew up in Santa Caterina, where vegetation ends quickly; at 1,700 or 2,000 meters, you are already out, high up, immersed in light. It’s an environment I feel belongs to me, almost a natural habitat. It doesn’t frighten me—in fact, it fascinates me in every form, in every season. The mountains still manage to surprise me.”
“Skiing for me has never been just about performance. It has always been a way to connect with the world around me.”
How does the Altavia project fit into this connection?
The Altavia project was born from this deep bond. It is something very inspiring, growing year after year — we are already on the third collection — and each time it brings new ideas, investments, and insights. The goal, however, remains firm: to maintain authenticity and simplicity, offer high-quality garments at an accessible price, and bring more people closer to the mountains. All while conveying important messages: awareness, respect, curiosity, but also introspection. Because for me, the mountains are not just about sharing: they are also a place where you can be with yourself, where you can keep your emotions without always showing them. It is a way to reconnect with that deep bond we all have with nature, a bond that is at risk of being lost. Today I see a lot of fear, but often it is the wrong kind: we are afraid of nature, animals, the unexpected… when it should be the opposite. It is us who scare nature; too often, it is us who damage what surrounds us.
How does the Altavia project fit into this connection?
The Altavia project was born from this deep bond. It is something very inspiring, growing year after year — we are already on the third collection — and each time it brings new ideas, investments, and insights. The goal, however, remains firm: to maintain authenticity and simplicity, offer high-quality garments at an accessible price, and bring more people closer to the mountains. All while conveying important messages: awareness, respect, curiosity, but also introspection. Because for me, the mountains are not just about sharing: they are also a place where you can be with yourself, where you can keep your emotions without always showing them. It is a way to reconnect with that deep bond we all have with nature, a bond that is at risk of being lost. Today I see a lot of fear, but often it is the wrong kind: we are afraid of nature, animals, the unexpected… when it should be the opposite. It is us who scare nature; too often, it is us who damage what surrounds us.
When you talk about skiing and the mountains, you often use the word freedom. What kind of freedom do these sports and places give you?
I can say that I experienced the peaks of my career with great balance, managing to keep external pressure at bay: the pressure that inevitably comes from others, the environment, expectations, without building a barrier. I never wanted to hide or isolate myself from the world. Today, I sometimes see well-known people or top athletes who seem to live in a constant escape: they open up a little, then close off again, as if they always need to protect themselves. I, instead, have always tried, at every stage of my life, to live well and stay authentic. I believe the environment in which I grew up contributed to this: the team, my teammates, and above all the places. Our sport naturally takes you far from big cities: you go to glaciers, to the mountains, to places where nature surrounds you and restores your balance. It is an enormous advantage, also from a human perspective. I think, for example, of Jannik Sinner: an extraordinary champion, also from a small mountain town, and I imagine it’s not easy for him to manage everything fame brings. Probably he misses a bit that sense of freedom that the mountains give you and that, inevitably, is sometimes lost in certain contexts. I, instead, have always kept that freedom. Perhaps the only moment I felt it falter was when I returned to Santa Caterina and found myself surrounded by so many people looking for me, waiting for me, wanting to talk to me. There, every now and then, I had to carve out moments just for myself, to breathe again that air of freedom which, for me, has always been the most precious thing.
Discover the other episodes
Episode 1: Deborah Compagnoni
Skiing made her queen of the snow, one of the most successful and iconic athletes in Italian sports history, and beyond.
Episode 4: Virna Toppi
Global Étoile and icon of avant-garde dance, she embodies the perfect balance between performance and elegance.
