How gipsy can you go?

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Sleeping in my car on Roger’s Pass (1330m) at -10 degree Celsius.

I had to learn the hard – or actually, the tight – way that imagination easily goes beyond the restrictions of reality. It so happened (again) when I equipped my Ford Explorer with a custom collapsable bed construction. Building it was a lot of fun. But despite the relatively good looks of the construction, sleeping in my car is still a poor option. Not because it would be too cold, just because it is too small for me! I cannot even took off a jacket when lying in there…

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The movement shown her is a simplification. In real life, I also have to find a way to take off / put on my shoes before entering the car / hitting the snow with my feet.

To get out (most importantly, for a leak), I have to 1. position my boots in front of the open door, toes pointing towards the car, 2. pull my shoulders in between the front seats, 3. pull my knees closer to my chest into a embryo position and 4. finally push out my feet and try to slip them in my boots without being able to see them (or reverse for getting in).

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Some planning, but only about seventy bucks (Canadian) went into the bed frame.

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Cutting the beams at Revelstoke’s quasi-public woodwork shop. (BIG Thanks Ken and Katie!)

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Fitting the beams into the back of the car.

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Me screwing (haha, I know it’s actually drilling).

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The setup prepared for bedtime on Roger’s Pass.

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The parking lot at Roger’s Pass. At least in good company.

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Lots of company on the road too.

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On the other side of the road: A chance to warm up in the military bar before going to bed.

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Artillery soldiers from Quebec playing poker at the military bar. They only get to shoot at potential avalanches once every two weeks…

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Good morning

 

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Life-saver (on top, using the stove inside the car is probably rather life-threathening).

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The first night together wasn’t very relaxing. I’m just not a one night stand person I guess.

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Despite patches of blue sky…

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…I decided to skip skiing for the day after a weak tentative and prepared some pasta instead back in the car.

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A lot of pasta.

 

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Raising the Blinds: Skiing with Bernie Sanders’ people on Roger’s Pass

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Hail to the chief: Mount Sir Donald.

Just when my fling with skiing tree lines in the Kootenays showed first signs of fatigue (I  started to miss the jagged peaks of the Alps), I stumbled into a new hot love affair: The big mountains of Roger’s Pass.

And while Vermont senator Bernie Sanders was crushing Hillary Clinton in New Hampshire, I had to do my best to keep up crushing powder lines with some skiers from said Northeast US State. These guys were no joke: While thoughtfully picking both ascent and descent lines in function of the conditions of the day, McConkey-esque professional trail builder Hardy managed to get us pretty aggressive pillow lines despite above average avalanche hazard. Not mention that he and his girlfriend Katryn were getting the best of me in the hiking segments as well.

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Once again, his majesty Mount Sir Donald.

 

 

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Hardy doing his McConkey thing. (Not sure he liked this – actually quite flattering – comparison, however both his great humor and skiing skills kind of imposed it.)

 

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Steep pillow line on the Glacier Crest north face.

 

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The Illecillewaet Glacier seen from Glacier Crest Creek.

 

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Young’s Peak in fading cloud cover.

 

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The classic signature line in the Asulcan valley: The beautiful colouir beautifully named ‘Forever Young’ looker’s right. Left, ‘The Ravens’.

 

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Youngs Peak and the ‘Seven Steps of Heaven’ (left).

 

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The ‘Cleaver'(?) and some pillow lines below.

 

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The Abbott (I believe).

 

 

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The Wheeler Hut, spacious and cosy for 24. Not to mention that one of them was North American alpinism legend Barry Blanchard, guiding a group of young Norwegians.

 

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This is the longest and wildest my beard has ever been. Not that I was proud or would  think it was particularly attractive… Think I don’t look happy? I just have such a hard time staring at the bright sky without blinking!

 

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After months of surfing and 25,000m to 30,000m vertical gain in 17 days of ski touring, my body weighs now 109kg. When I left banking in June, it was 121kg.

 

4 Days at Huckleberry Cabin. Or: Some thoughts on new and old friends, being alone and loneliness

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Good morning BC snow covered trees, on a bluebird morning.

 

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Good morning BC snow covered trees, on most days.

 

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The cabin from the outside with a 2m measuring stick (in green) for comparison.

 

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The inside of the cabin seen from floor level. Corey and I took turns sleeping on the floor,

 

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…since there was no way of fitting two 2m guys on the bottom bunk bed. (Other than spooning maybe.)

 

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Sarah doing the morning magic: coffee and oatmeal.

 

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Skiing in perfect cold smoke/champagne snow, but sub-par visibility.

 

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Me, Sarah, Corey and Jeb (left to right) chilling on less than seven square meters after skiing.

 

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‘Grilled cheese station’ and low-sodium tomato soup on Coleman grill. Thanks for teaching me this valuable piece of (f***ing ;)) American cuisine, guys!

 

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Someone must have been bored here?

 

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Apparently it must have been a woman with a giraffe.

 

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Everything ends.

 

This week’s readin’:

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Did I just sound like a chicken shitting its pants?