Over the hills and far away

Sweets & Treats

2012-01-17T02:49:00.000-08:00

Some days, it takes a few deep breaths of diesel fumes to wake you up.

Otherwise all that clear, cold mountain air freezes your brain.

And wouldn't that be terrible?

We might mistake the wild mountains for something soft and friendly, inviting even.

We might imagine the snowy hills as a benevolent entity, indulgent of its wayward children.

And we might wreck havoc, as children or muddy dogs would on an expensive white couch.

We would play shadow puppets,

and mock our elders.

We might act as if the world were ours for the taking,

and full of potential.

We might be fearless.

And go to bed knowing that life is good.

Außerfern 16.1.2012 with Juho, Laura, Jarid, Mario and Lorenzo.
*******************

Tired and hopeful we return to the cold.

We have our reasons.

Taking careful aim,

we find our targets.

And, uh, whatever.

17.1.2012 Oberland with Jarid and Juho.

Teletubbie Freeriders and a little bit of soul

2012-01-15T10:04:00.000-08:00

Backcountry freeski crew

Freeski Mountaineer Lorenzo

Backcountry Defender Hunter Klaus

BC Babe Laura

Backcountry teletubbie Juho

BTJ 2

Artsy blue with Lorenzo

Soulrider Dan

Soulful teletubbie

Soulful Freeski Mountaineer

Soulful Deffe Hunter

Romance & Soul with Powder Couple

Wow, we have shadows!!

FIN

Gilfert 15.1.2012

New Year, New Snow

2012-01-10T08:13:00.000-08:00

Good Bye 2011 at V.

(Lorenzo pic)

Hello 2012 with Mario:

AB

(Lorenzo Pic)

Oberland reloaded

2011-12-28T03:07:00.000-08:00

We return once more to the land of blue sky, white snow and locals that are fascinating like exotic deep sea fish with three green glowing eyes are fascinating.

Team loud pants:

Team DOWN on a ladder:

Classic touring for the scenery:

Shadow likes it too.

Blue end-of-year light:

Pink goes well with blue.

I had fun too.

Muttekopf

2011-12-27T02:39:00.000-08:00

Apparently, the sky is bluest in the Oberland and the snow is whiter and fluffier than elsewhere. We decided to believe our local source.

Alone on the summit we wondered: which ocean is that?

Cameraman Lorenzo waited

while we walked.

He took pictures of yours truly.

My view

of Lorenzo

and Georg.

"Hey guys, I'll take pictures from below if you let me ski first!"

Final parking lot line view:

Pre-Xmas Powder Quickie

2011-12-22T09:47:00.000-08:00

The Waiting Game

Ends.

Clarisse smiles.

So do I, can you see?

And before going home for christmas we went walking in a winter wonderland...

Symphony in C

2011-11-28T02:43:00.000-08:00

So you'll be an austrian nobleman
Commissioning a symphony in C

Which defies all earthly descriptions
You'll be commssioning a symphony in C,
With money you squeezed from the peasants

To your nephew you can give it as a present
This magnificent symphony in C,
You'll be comissioning a symphony in C.

Completely filling the palace concert hall
It's warm and golden like an oven that's wide open

It has a melody both happy and sad
Built on victorious young triads

You enter the room with great caution
Though no one in the hall is even watching
They are transfixed they are forgetting just to breathe
They are so taken by your symphony in C

Your sitting there thinking your thoughts,
They are not about what is but what is not.
You're sitting there breathing in your breath
You are seldom breathing life, but mostly death.

So you'll be an austrian nomad
Commissioning a symphony in C,
Which defies all earthly descriptions
You'll be commssioning a symphony in C.

Kirchenkogel, 27.11.11

A Moveable Feast

2011-11-22T02:09:00.000-08:00

The start of the season has been, what shall we call it, slow? We ski what is really not worth skiing yet and still it feels a bit like coming home, as it does every year.

(Lorenzo's pic)

(Lorenzo's pic)

We end up on top of giant sundials

pointing north, to where winter is not.

Why climb down when you don't have to?

We go that way.

Low light

Lower light

No light

In times of eternal sunshine, one day is much like the next.

With only marginal variations of terrain

and cast.

We fill our albums with pictures of cathedrals.

Whether we feel worshipful or not.

We sit in the sun.

And watch as wildlife asserts its dominance.

We are always prepared

And we embrace the strangeness.

Zuckerhütl 19.11.11 with Laura, Juho & Lorenzo
Schussgrubenkogel 21.11.11 with Juho & Simo

Gone with the wind

2011-10-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

Since we could not find a sailboat to take us beyond the end of the world, we flew north. There was nowhere else to go, after all. Have you seen the open country, the empty worlds of grey and brown? The heartlands of south-central Patagonia always seem much closer to the spiritual fringes than land's end in the far south. In winter there is dust and cold desolation, in summer there are hords of tourists who come to stare at ice, an experience that lasts a lifetime, it says so on the busses.

We came to Chaltén and found a rickety trailer with a leaking toilet to stay in. It doesn't take much of a door to lock out howling wind and with a few candles missing light bulbs make for a cozy home. Victor and Knox from Switzerland had the trailer next door, I can't for the life of me remeber who was Victor and who Knox. They had gotten what they came for and more and oozed the easy confidence of those who have surpassed their own expectations, lean mountain men with ducktaped holes in expensive outdoor clothing, complete with twoweek beards and quick eyes in tanned faces.

We followed their advice and footsteps in the sand, dragging our gear for miles through a wide river bed to a wooden shack where only climbing is allowed. We claimed it anyway. The night was quiet until it started raining. The sound of drops on the tin roof accompanied hours of card games the following day. Overnight trips always taste like packet soup. By evening the rain stopped and we were only woken once by a mouse loudly gnawing its way into our cookie supply.

In the morning we carried our gear to the snow line and a little beyond, changing to ski mode just after the sudden and thus breathtaking appearance of iconic granite.

The day before it had rained not only onto our roof but up to above 2000m. Eventually it must have started snowing and we skinned through about 10cm of sparkling powder on top of over a pole's length of absolutely rotten glop. We gradually climbed up to a notch in the ridge line at the base of a little rock spire, the Swiss boys had pointed it out, and booted high enough to see the other side. The snow was too wet to continue to the top of Punta Velluda and get down safely, or at least we thought so, and we skied down from here.

(Lorenzo pic)

(Lorenzo pic)

Some sightseeing later and we were back to walking in the valley with a lot of heavy things, oh joy. The wind picked up and the next day was cloudy. The Swiss left in an explosion of gear and people, followed by tidy stacking into their car. We slept, cooked in the dark and when the day after that was grey too we went to see the Perito Moreno glacier, tourist magnet, main income source of the town of El Calafate and really pretty cool.

We made ourselves wake up at five and saw stars. After some debate and back and forth we arrived at one of the places where one can start walking if one wants to reach Loma del Diablo, which is the locals' standard go to skitour and which the Swiss did not find all that exciting. We had a nice stroll on an almost path through the forest and later on springy, reddish, ground kreeping plants and finally on snow. It was a perfect day, weather wise. Certain people in the know seem to think a day in Patagonia without wind merits a facebook status update. It certanily is a rare pleasure that we rather enjoyed. The views into the ice scapes to the west were striking and it took awhile before we turned back to the green-brownish hills on the other side. From the top we had light, cold powder, a few turns of stickyness and then corn for the rest of the way to tree line. Here we not very surprisingly missed the trail we had come up on and were unable to find it again at all. So we had another fun experience of thickets of thigh high Calafate bushes, which are very thorny, swampy, water logged underbrush and Patagonian vegetation in general. The bamboo like stuff of Northern Patagonia does not grow here, or the picture would be complete.

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

In the afternoon we drove to the end of the road and talked to what must have been the entire ski touring scene of Chaltén. We had seen them on Co. Vespignani from across the way and they confirmed that things were good there, although a bit tracked now they added, rightfully smug.

We came back the next day, following the usual procedure, and used their skin track. Although things were indeed a bit tracked, we enjoyed the luxury of not having to find our own way through the crevasses. The climb was lovely, with lovely weather and lovely views that kept us well occupied. Unfortunately the wind once again picked up and was not much short of howling by the time we got to the more weather exposed upper third of the glacier. The old tracks were nearly gone here, having been filled with slippery, dense snow that made particularly the crossing of the upper bergschrund a little interesting. We decided to get ready to ski 20 meters below the summit so as not to have to change in the worst of the wind and booted up the last little bit. Funny, how so much ice can look so inviting.

(Lorenzo pic)

The wind was shifting a lot of snow and we, slightly heavy heartedly, opted for the less steep and to my tastes less pretty descent option, again following the tracks of Chaltén's touring population. Once out of the wind it was perfectly enjoyable and a long way down. We sat in the sun on the morraine and eventually drove home and had a lot of ice cream.

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo pic)

Alas, this was the trip's last ski day. The remaining few days the wind shook our trailer and we had to hide our faces from dust wipping around on the daily journey to the supermarket and the internet place. We missed a half day of good weather because we got up too late, having trusted the unpleasant sounding forecast. We walked to Laguna Torre for the views, at least. Otherwise we took a lot of pictures of Fitz and company and watched the clouds and spring springing.

(Lorenzo Pic)

Finally we left to then be stuck in Calafate for an extra night and subsequently in Buenos Aires for two, thanks to Volcan Puyehue. We saw some friends we would otherwise have missed and I also made a new acquaintance:

(Lorenzo Pic)

Now, commence the usual wistfullness.

Ushuaia y alrededores

2011-10-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

Music

A couple of weeks of easy living in a land far, far away, with lovely people and no plans. No more, no less.

We arrived in Buenos Aires to a cloudless morning. The river sparkled like a million mirrors, horizon blurred by diesel haze.

We arrived in Ushuaia to a snowy night. The taxi driver pointed out the casino.

The next day in the ski area was cold and windy and felt like home after half a year off snow. Nothing that matters hurt, which was a great relief.

Glaciar Martial, almost familiar. Pleasant skinning through cold snow, pleasant skiing through almost cold snow, not entirely pleasant walk down the creek and out the valley.

Here the fun begins.

A muddy man in a muddy pick up picked us up on the way down the muddy road four hours later.

Sunny day for the birthday boy:

Not so pleasant anymore.

Murky day at Paso Garibaldi

Murky day at Paso Garibaldi v.2.0

Behind Olivia. We found some recent windslab and turned around a little short of a col close to the summit.

New friend

Love

(Lorenzo's Pic)

Enoying the scenery

Another day at Glaciar Martial with a surprising amount of company and snow that was terrible on the up and fun on the down.

A rainy day in town

Another warm day with variable snow

Starting from V. Tierra Mayor on yet another murky day with questionable snow.

(Jarid Pic)

Not much walking today.

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

A day with an exceptionally bad walk to ski ratio, even by south american standards and some personal insight into having aquired some new fears in April.

(Lorenzo Pic)

(Lorenzo Pic)

And finally a happy tourist day with the sea lions.

21.9. - 2.10.

The End of the Season

2011-04-18T01:05:00.000-07:00

We set out into the gloom of a morning, it has been a while now.

Time passed and the glare of noon replaced gloomy shadows. We found a destination.

It was a slow crawl to the sun.

Then we returned, leaving open slopes for our thin sliver of snow.

We resumed our journey and spent the night not far away.

As could be expected, morning came.

And we set out.

Arriving eventually,

to conclude that it was a perfect, perfect day.

*************************************

Another day, another place.

Once again a journey through grand views.

We walked for a while, then I was not walking anymore but falling, plunging into slow motion.

Sliding until I wasn't, I found that I had left my friends far above and sat alone on a patch of grass and scree. I flopped an uncooperative part of arm into a position resembling normal just before the correspondent pain arrived, then sagged into a nauseous heap and happily put myself at the mercy of cell phones and kind hands. Thus ended the season - strange bliss spinning on a long rope beneath a helicopter, high on painkillers.

In the Field

2011-04-12T11:58:00.000-07:00

Oh yes, we are scientists.
Jamtal, 10. & 11. 4.

Feels like summer

2011-04-04T04:13:00.000-07:00

Through murky forests and on slippery trails

we climb through the shadows

until eventually, we don't.

Amidst a million sparkles

we approach the sky

and turn around before we reach it.

***************************************************************

From noon to sunset we watchfully sleep,

observing.

By morning we are on our way.

As the sun climbs, so do we.

At least for a while.

*************************************************

Roter Kogel, 30.3.2011
Vord. Brochkogel, 3.4.2011

J'ai besoin de la lune

2011-03-24T06:38:00.000-07:00

Music

J’ai besoin de la lune
pour lui parler la nuit.
J’ai besoin du soleil
pour me chauffer la vie.
J’ai besoin de la mer
pour regarder au loin.
J’ai tant besoin de toi
tout à coté de moi.

Anonymous in the mountains

and anonymous mountains.

The earth below us, above us only sky.

Painting the canvas.

Oh, painting verboten?

Too bad, there are so very talented artists about.

And anyway, in the end the meadow always wins.

A new day brings shiny things in the sky.

And once again, the thrill of working muscles

In places where I am happy.

The painters are back.

Their art is minimalist, of pure lines and clear form.

Only rarely do they indulge in games of light and shadow.

They know that they become ever smaller as they work,

and that in the face of greater things,

humility becomes them.

On other days, other people pose for postcards,

before disappearing into the glare.

While we prefer the colder side.

J’ai besoin de la lune
Pour voir venir le jour
tant besoin du soleil
pour l’appeler la nuit
J’ai besoin de la mer
Tout a coté de moi
J’ai tant besoin de toi
pour me sauver la vie …

**********************************************************************************

22., 23., 24., 3. - Naviser Kreuzjöchl, Jochgrubenkopf, Hochtennboden

and a bonus picture of me sitting down by Marius, pHoToGrApHeR.

Misc & backlog

2011-03-20T20:00:00.000-07:00

Maybe if we go up there the snow will be better.

View.

Well, could be worse.

And: the beginning of the end.

Outings have recently consisted of careful climbs and forgettable descents in nice weather. Such is life (and a rather horrid snowpack).

Even super extremo freeriders stayed out of super extremo freeriding terrain.

Because of super extremo wind loading.

And that was that.

Inofficial Balkan Getaway

2011-03-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Kosovo

A country that runs on coffee, cigarettes and raki.

An angry snowflake sent us on to Albania.

Where Lorenzo promptly scored a really very rad line.

We also found a barn, fog and dead fish.

The French boys found an old map in an old school.

Meanwhile, we met chickens.

And Florian.

Together with Florian and Fadlum we made for the hills.

Kellie found Montenegro.

I found leaves with feathers.

Lorenzo found a powder puff.

We found the sheep, they are not good at hiding.

Can anyone find me?

Nico likes to sit on cars.

Alan and Maxime also like something.

Welcome back to Kosovo and Kellie likes coffee

While Alan explains that his 191cm swallowtail board - eet ees zee perfect allround snowboard for touríng!

Jordan is from the United States of America Fuck Yeah and is good at sitting down for pictures.

Kellie on the moon

Kellie and I check the line

and proceed to ski.

Into the dramatic lighting we go.

And this is the anticlimatic finale!

Merci beaucoup for the trés cool trip Kellie, Adam, Jordan, French guys (the Swiss guys are French guys in my head), Gent, Renato and tous les autres.

Behind the scenes

2011-01-30T13:04:00.000-08:00

High above the city lights

and high above everything else too.

We travel

into the wind.

We ride in the shadows

and climb in the sun.

Ain't she a beauty.

Walkingwalkingwalking

Good Bye

Silvester

2011-01-01T10:01:00.000-08:00

An almost traditional mountain with some of the usual suspects. Shadows still blue, snow still cold, base still lacking, feet still hurt, sun still shining.

In other words: Silvester by Joachim Ringelnatz

Dass bald das neue Jahr beginnt,
spür ich nicht im geringsten.
Ich merke nur: Die Zeit verrinnt
genauso wie zu Pfingsten,

Genau wie jährlich tausendmal.
Doch Volk will Griff und Daten.
Ich höre Rührung, Suff, Skandal,
Ich speise Hasenbraten

Mit Cumberland, und vis-à-vis
Sitzt von den Krankenschwestern
Die sinnlichste. Ich kenne sie
Gut, wenn auch erst seit gestern.

Champagner drängt, lügt und spricht wahr.
Prosit, barmherzige Schwester!
Auf! In mein Bett! Und prost Neujahr!
Rasch! Prosit! Prost Silvester!

Die Zeit verrinnt. Die Spinne spinnt
in heimlichen Geweben.
Wenn heute nacht ein Jahr beginnt,
beginnt ein neues Leben.

Cold Snow Blue Light

2010-12-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

God rest you, merry Gentlemen!

lalalalaaalalalaaaaa

...
Tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
...

Ach bittrer Winter, wie bist du kalt.

2010-12-05T13:03:00.000-08:00

It has been a good early season. Not everywhere and not uniformly, but in certain spots, yes, it was very good. It only took one misscalculation of medium extent before we learned not to go chasing waterfalls and were happy until the end of days (the start of wintertime duties).

Familiar view, Nordkette with Bettelwurf

This is a dark place. Oddly missplaced rock spires tower over two bowls that don't see the sun for the better part of the year. You climb in darkness, top out into murky shades of gray and descend back into pale, snowy darkness.

And again and again and again.

Through cracks in the foundations and out into the open.

Then there are other days that dawn blue and bitterly cold. They are as anticipated as delightful and a certain numbness of the toes, spreading until you can't feel your feet, is easily ignored. It is a world where sweat does not exist and talking becomes difficult when normally limber facial muscles stumble in the cold.

The sun makes mountains pink and then blue and the moon doesn't do much at all.

We dive deep, causing hardly a ripple in the pond.

Although sometimes, some one might make waves.

The cold makes the snow light as dust. There is a moment when we begin the turn, where the snow moves up to greet us. Then, of course, it turns into the usual cloud, suspended and lingering after our passage.

Turns in the sun are rare and treasured, yet winter seems not quite as wintery as it does in the feautureless blue of the not quite light, to which we return.

Some mountains need only a bit of dramatic lighting and clinging clouds and they look like they belong on a different continent.

We climb.

We ski.

Other days are more gray than blue.

and other people climb too.

Sometimes our youthfull exuberance is such that we threaten to crash into the camera person.

But mostly we drift through dreamy fluff

and look for glimpses of the things hidden in the clouds.

We jump off the ledge behind the edge.

And going, going, gone,

we dissappear

in a puff of smoke.

Good Night.

Oh October!

2010-10-30T05:44:00.000-07:00

The presence of early snow does much to smoothen the transition from a southern spring to a northern fall.

Familiar company.

The essentials never change.

"Any time of year, you can find me here"

"You work I ride."

"L'automne est le printemps de l'hiver."

Winter is coming. Keep breathing.

Despedida.

2010-10-18T03:09:00.000-07:00

The last days shine brightest because they were good, and the last. Spring, a reflection glistening in the lake, seems to linger still, but it fades to grey.

Somewhere in the basement there are skis with edges sharp enough to slit my wrists. Soon we will be riding familiar lifts in a world of white, cold seeping into bones again, strange happiness with strange friends, skiing ice in october fog.

Even my hymns of travel are beginning to lose their meaning and leave nothing but a little bit of wistfulness.

Hoy me he burlado
De la tristeza
Hoy me he librado
De tu recuerdo
Ya no te extraño
Ya me he arrancado
Ya estoy en paz...
Ya estoy curado
Anestesiado
Ya me he olvidado

Volcánes

2010-10-06T07:33:00.000-07:00

We set off around four, having been told that yes, we would easily reach the hut in daylight. Of course we didn't. We lost the old tracks once the forest ended and gave way to snowless, grassy hills. After crawling around for a while in frozen meadows and patches of trees we gave up and settled down for a chilly night in a frozen meadow, next to a patch of trees. To better reflect the twinkle of the stars, we wrapped our sleeping bag and bivy beds in space blankets.

We woke up covered in frost, to blue skies and frozen shoes. With newly found insight we reached the hut within 5 minutes, repacked, melted snow and climbed up to the crater. We skied a line from the high point and skinned back out, timing our descent back to the hut just so to coincide perfectly with the inversion layer having risen to completely engulf the part of the world that currently concerned us. We traversed around a bit in featureless gullies and after a lot of criss-crossing found the hut before either of us threw up from vertigo and after having duely cursed our own stupidity.

The next day the summit remained hidden in the only cloud around. We spent the morning trying to eat as much as possible of the contents of our packs. Polenta with dulce de leche and canned peaches (thanks Jorge!) is the food of kings. We then made our way back to the car and were sick and tired of the packs, the forest and the blisters by the time we got there.

******

Villarica was impressive in a general shitshow with a nice view kind of way. A long run in nice corn pretty much made up for choking on acridic volcano breath during the last hour of the climb.

Up

Crater

Jeff arrives

Down

Looking back

Cake

2010-09-26T13:30:00.000-07:00

I went out with a girl of chiseled features, like marble in the glow of cell phone light. We talked about good men and bad men and beautiful ones, while next to us a china doll danced with her guy, cat smile and graceful body, glued to his darker one, engaging tired eyes.

Faceless, hooded figures swayed gently with the music, rasta people like a forest in the breeze.

There is a mountain called The Cake, I've know her for a while now. The appeal becomes apparent face to face.

The snow this time was firm and changeable, high forties, touching fifty. We started late and when we left the moon had risen. I have been tired since.

South

2010-09-23T15:08:00.000-07:00

We drove south. The transition from mountains and forest country to desert Pampa was abrupt. We saw ñandú and flamingoes and I wished my car was a horse. Even the sheep seemed proud here, grazing with purpose and dignity. Red tipped trees grew wherever there was water and complemented the emptiness. Pale roadside grass reminded me of sunbleached hair on tanned summer skin.

We crossed back into the hills and kept driving away from the sun. Eventually we turned around, although the road had not ended. Perhaps we had reached that essential and precarious balance of forces between the mythical draw of the land, dark heart beating deep between mountains and clouds, and a small, low centered, rental car.

We skied a little, the weather not ideal, and then drove back. We took the jungle road and spent the night in a riverbed. Early in the morning we crossed the border, Chileans businesslike and cool, Argentinians hungover and bemused. One of them slapped his stomach and told us that he too was once a skier, but then they put him here and he grew fat, since all he does is eat.

************

********

********

******

The Huts

2010-09-15T07:08:00.000-07:00

On the first day, the weather was fine and we walked happily. The sun shone in the forest and later on the snow covered slopes above treeline. The climb was long, with several false summits, but eventually we reached the top. It was windy and unpleasant and we were quick to drop blindly into Jorge´s sand clock. Looking back, we saw our line as the simplest of many. Chris complained.

The second climb was short, clouds in the west were getting darker and the wind picked up. Dropping into the last pitch the light had turned flat. The ground comes up to meet you, sooner or later, here and elsewhere, so it did not matter.

We shoveled the snow out of the entrance and went looking for a place to dig for water. Chris obligingly broke a snowbridge and stuck his foot in the creek, ending the search. Later, Kirsten fell in more completely, inspiring efforts to start a fire.

In my sleeping bag the darkness was complete. Closing my eyes made no differece. In a cocoon of perfect black I floated on I-pod lullabies, contemplative beats of deep dub.

The next day was warm, no one wanted to ski in the rain. Matt and Kirsten taught me to play Hearts. Chris stayed upstairs, laughing loudly every so often while we played in silence. Each Heart is worth one point, the Queen of Spades thirteen. Twentysix in total, least points wins, first to reach a hundred loses.

In the afternoon we ventured outside. To do something we skied the wet snow, heavy rollerballs tumbling down around us. That night the fire was hotter, I slept less well. In the morning we left.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

***************

We arrived at mid day. A group of other people was just preparing to leave. They said they had been shooting. Later we saw the kickers they had built. One wore tight pants, flared to fit over the boots. The others were older and had cameras. One of them recognized me from somewhere but I did not remember him. He said his name was Jack, and I wondered why I didn't. We sat around for a bit, watching the people with the cameras. Someone was taking pictures of Jack chewing on a toothpick, because, he laughed, Jack was the most interesting man in the world.

This hut was warm, with food and people, candlelight and the cat. I had been here many times, maybe it just seemed more hospitable. Late in the evening two climbers arrived. I asked where they had come from.
"We were climbing."
"In the dark?"
"No, not in the dark."

So, what then, were you doing in the dark? I sat with them and the keepers, while they talked about rock and gear and ice.

**************

The third hut does not count. It is less than an hour from the road and was full of teenagers.

Bella Vista

2010-09-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

From the other side.

On site.

Waiting for Matt.

Watching Matt.

Nice creek bed.

Creek bed not so nice anymore.

The end.

Padre Laguna

2010-08-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

Summary of recent excursions

1. Bushwhak through the bamboo (climbing creek bed optional)
2. Gain ridge
3. Descend (laps optional)
4. Bushwhak through the bamboo (downclimbing creek bed with waterfalls optional)

Where is Chris?

Lopez

2010-08-29T07:10:00.000-07:00

Take a break and come down
Take a chance and start
Take a look in the mirror
Take a pill to wake up
Wake up

Weekend Getaway

2010-08-26T13:39:00.000-07:00

Frey 20-22.08
Five or six hours of rain, falling in holes and being stuck in bamboo are, upon careful reflection, not recommended.

Almost home

Almost night

Condor

Tronador

Pierre

Did it snow or was it just really windy?

Pierre & Laurent don't care.

How many lines do you see?

And that was it and the storm is back.

vaya

2010-08-20T12:08:00.000-07:00

the end of summer
mud season begins
and ends

a toenail recently regrown
soon to be lost again.

Sun's gonna rise

2010-06-13T02:57:00.000-07:00

Rollin' down the highway
Like a rocket

Headed to town now
You can't stop it
Got the wheel in my hand

As I stand
On the floor
Of the board
Of this car
On the road

Sun's gonna rise in a mile

In a mile you'll be feeling fine.

In a mile you will see

After me
You'll be out of the dark.

Sellrain 12.6.2010

Hintere Schwärze

2010-06-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

The spring skiing experience (which, if we are honest, is really more of a summer skiing experience) is defined in no small way by carrying around a considerable amount of weight for considerable stretches of time and distance.

Mutmal Spitze

Similaun

The winter room-, and the hut experience in general, is defined by the people encountered in the same. In this case we met a group of 8 men in their 30s who had hired a guide to climb Similaun. They each carried a standard size pack of pasta up to the hut and cooked about 4 kilos of penne for dinner. The remains of which they then offered to us, had for breakfast and, I am guessing, secretly burried somewhere in the end. They missjudged the required amount of pasta because they "had never done this before." It remained unclear whether they were referring to walking up a mountain, staying at a hut or cooking noodles.

They also snored.

Almost at the glacier

Not carrying the skis anymore.

Carrying the skis again.

Hintere Schwärze: Icy, icy n-face. Was that really neccessary?

Smooth as buttah

This is it.

Actually, not quite.

Sheep watching:

4./5. 6. 2010

LBD 2010

2010-04-30T23:30:00.000-07:00

Real skiing on real skis!

It's that time of the year again, so let the games begin.

How do you get to the Arlberg from here?

Maybe they know.

Professional wedding photography with Antenna Guy.

Backcountry riding

Hazards of backcountry riding

Waiting game

Rope tow riding

also hazardous.

"I think I see the Arlberg!"

Drinking in public

Working it

Excercise is good for you

untill it's not.

The beginning of the end.

Last efforts

Aprés

Whatchooo starin' at?

On y va

The end of the end.

More.

short

2010-04-25T08:51:00.000-07:00

Short and Sweet

Short and Heat

These Happy Golden Years

2010-04-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

...of up

and down.

Full of flying snowboarders

and smearing skiers.

A little roadtrip..

And three perfect mornings of sheerest delight:

We wanted to go here

but took a wrong turn.

Such is life.

Wake up, and turn off your hat.

It's getting greener.

What do you say, should we try the background tomorrow?

Now is today though.

Watch the shadows, don't cut yourself.

Again then?

If you insist.

Happy then, are we?

Time to go.

Did the sun get brighter?

Fare thee well, fare thee well,
fare thee well my fairy Fay
for I'm off to Lou'siana for to see my Susyanna
sing Polly wolly doodle all the day

Resurrection...

2010-03-18T09:11:00.002-07:00

...of the forgotten blog!

early morning tour back in the blue season:

Random:

Surprise snow and interesting views to the west, light no longer blue.

****************************

And it's march already!

13.3., Schmirntal. Sun for the climb, no more sun for the ski.

Hat and glasses!

14.3., Pfitschtal. Sun all day and a new valley to explore!

Hm, that over there looks cool.

creeks to cross

logs to navigate

and finally out in the open:

up

down

loss of ski.

ski regained.

looking back

survival!

looking back again, now for a pizza, seeing as we're one valley into Italy.

***************************

Finally: Sunny city

and outtakes, featuring Lorenzo, Tobi, and myself...

Blue

2010-01-25T14:45:00.000-08:00

There may still not be much snow but there is something, a lot actually, to be said for cold sunshine and blue light.

Let's go see the sunset.

Good bye, sun.

We'll leave you now.

Night and it's monsters are waiting.

Blue mornings

and blue noons.

Surprise: blue afternoons too!

******

Another sparkling, blue day brings more sparkles.

And more blue.

Let's go and sleep in the sun.

Might that be a 10 meter cross over there?

Reflecting - Do not disturb.

Right. You stay here and take pictures.

I'll go over there.

Boys will be boys.

Isn't blue a nice colour?

Good bye, sun.

*****

A Team Steezy Production

Nichts Halbes, Nichts Ganzes

2010-01-13T05:15:00.000-08:00

Leonard Cohen - The Future:

Things are going to slide, slide in all directions
Won't be nothing
Nothing you can measure anymore
The blizzard, the blizzard of the world
has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned
the order of the soul
When they said
Repent
I wonder what they meant

Schmirntal 8.1.10

Gaiskogl 9.1.10

Obernbergtal 10.1.10

Nordpark 12.1.10

So far, so good.

2010-01-06T13:29:00.000-08:00

Update your blog, I am told. Do not rush the poet, I say.

November brought a few calm days which I don't seem to be able to recall well enough and otherwise accelerated like the sports car that keeps you pressed into your seat as it goes from dirt road to 4 lane highway

Let's talk about ten days in some dead beat town, or rather, let's not. Friends found, things learned about oneself and the world at large, the occasional need to remove the former from the intensities of the latter. And, of course, this one time at ski camp: "rumors, fighting, tears, sex, betrayal, camaraderie, marriage, divorce, hangovers, sweet victories, devastating defeats."

In december I found out that people who choose to spend seasons in ski towns do so because the pre christmas feeling of excited festivity can be kept alive a little longer there, christmas lights and snow stay till march after all. As the children grow older, unwrapping presents with shiny eyes seems to be replaced with waves of melancholy because "it's all over already" as a main feature of holiday season.

Other than that it was really cold and then started raining, as usual.

****

****

Special Christmas treat: hills of home.

New Years came and went with work before and after. I wish fireworks were silent.

Of Summer's End

2009-10-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

Summer has its moments. Sunset on a mountain top, the morning sun creeping down cliff faces to the shore of the lake where you were camping. A night alone under a starfilled sky. A night not alone under a starfilled sky. Shooting stars. Fireflies. Rain, sun, clouds.

Looking West

Edelweiß

Water, frigid.

Creature funk

Taschach Haus

Taschach Eiswand, in retreat

changeable

Rockglacier

Gepatschferner

The Valley of the Dogs

Temple of Apollon.

Biking

hiking

water ramping

real estate

"summer skiing"

Zuckerhütl

Bringin' sexy back.

Moon

Mushroom

Clouds

Mountains

Morraine

A first dusting on Wildspitze

Alibi glacier turns.

Home.

Summer is all that and more but my, oh my, ain't winter grand. It snowed for almost six days straight in the eastern Alpes, down to the valley more often than not. Even if six days is all it was and we revert to indian summer now, damn it was a good six days. Winter has begun, complete with cozy evenings reading in a room with candles, baking cookies and watching the snow falling outside as if somebody was planning to bury the city up to it's ears by morning.

yeah dog.

tree skiing in october.

hmm, what's all this white stuff?

snowing or sunny?

even the birds profit.

what's that in the distance?

aha! an army of snow ghosts!

appropriatly foggy and grey in te forest, clear skies above.

a cubic meter

Saturday was a stormday stolen from febuary.

We found a nice cave for lunch.

And it was on.

Success in sequence.

Sunday was spent with various people from the internet.

adding one of freak's pictures for moar awesome:

And finally, early this morning was very cold and very blue when it wasn't very grey.

Winter is nice.