Let’s face it: for us, no element of life is more elegant than snow. It’s around us, it’s under us, in many cases, it’s above us, and anyway it is in us.
We are in the world of the snow queen.
I didn’t grow up in an especially snowy place; where my love of snow is founded is a mystery.
Snow is not white! If the sunshine against snow has the colours of skiing over endless fields of flowers- green, blue, red, yellow- all are made out of ice, it’s a sparkling white.
Snow is never boring, it can change itself into funny states but it always remains as snow : Hard as concrete if compacted by wind, not even Fiffi, my pulka makes a track in it.
Flying snow, as my skies flow through the newly fallen crystals, not one is the same.
It reminds me of us, humans and animals : all are individuals.
Snow on your skis is tasteful but snow in your underwear (after having a shift) is, let’s call it, different.
Snow talks! If you don’t believe me, try it yourself. Find some snow, walk over it and listen.
For me skiing over cold snow gives the best symphony life ever heard.
Pulling pulkas over snow is never the same, not in time neither in space :
Hard snow, let us fly!
Deep snow, let us die !
A few words I noted down after a glacier climb in deep snow :
“All I want to do is not writing this. I kneel down on my skies, my body still attached to my pulka. I don’t really know if it is my body or my mind that is busted. While pulling (…) my heart is panting, my vision is grey, legs are shaking, fucking up! as we all use to say, or mind over matter,… confused!”
Having said this I want to thank everyone who cheers us up, send us satellite phone messages especially the birthday wishes.
Please answer the following questions by sending us SMS :
What can you build out of snow?
What’s the colour inside an igloo?
How tall is the snow queen?
Not easy, I know!
A special remark to skidoo drivers Paul and Sigrid : without you the world could have stopped turning, thanks.