There’s one principle of mine, that I haven’t yet broken: “Post your photos and stories before you head off for the next adventure” is the reason why my photos and stories ever go online in the first place. I definitly am geeky enough to enjoy hours of photo editing all alone in a dark room, forgetting to turn on the light for hours. But before I’ll do that, I’ll write some copy for my friends at komoot and Lieferheld, run, unicycle, play frisbee, bake sourdough bread, go camping for a night, meet friends for a philosophical talk over a good cup of coffee or watch the sunset at Tempelhofer Feld. So here I am, again, well after midnight, writing a blog post before I’ll do my famous ten minute packing and head off to the train station before it gets light.
Here’s what my Easter consisted of:
Italian flora, rocks and a new helmet (Thanks, POC!)
Snow at 1200m…
…resulting in early descents.
Long hikes up.
And purple flower fields.
And flowy rides down.
Good camp vibes.
Rock climbing with the rest of the camp during our rest days.
There was never too much Lutz. Or purple.
(Yes, that’s me up there.)
Nights at the camp were cold…
…and the days windy and cloudy.
But that didn’t stop us from picking one of the mountains in view at breakfast and hiking it up during the day.
Sometimes, Lutz stole the camera.
But soon I got it back by making jokes about his jacket.
As always, time flew while we were telling stories and saving sandwiches from falling down the mountain. So we had to rush down the trail that leads back to the lake.
We almost didn’t realize how steep it was…
…and how exposed.
Mostly because Yannick was making jokes I do not wish to repeat below an altitude of 2000m.
On our last day, things got a bit out of hand.
But once again, we got lucky and found the best views and trails.
At the very last chance to jump into to icecold Lake Garda, I convinced Tobi, the bravest (or as we would say: “kernig”) man in the camp, to join me. The tourists watching us in their down jackets seemed confused.
After living outside for a week…
…the idea of going home didn’t sound too appealing. So Lutz, Wolf and I decided to conquer our fears during another day of climbing at Frankenjura, Germany’s best region for sports climbing. Obviously, that was just good enough for us.
Lutz was the bravest one, of course.
And also the best looking one, as always.
We tried to push it until it got almost ridiculous, but it was finally time to go home. Sunburned, with cracked skin on our fingers, tired muscles and dirty hair, we said good-bye and parted ways. The tall boys took off in their mini car, I climbed into my green van and smiled until long after they were gone. After I got home, for many days, it felt weird to be and sleep in between walls.
Now. Time to get an hour of sleep before I hop on a train to go to Italy again. See you, babies!