I thought I would call this post “Cast away!” and that it would be about me on a bike in the sun. No. That I would finally have two ridiculously skinny legs and no dual toned clump foot. No. That I would be able to show off my new found muscles gained from working out at the gym. No. Being 37 sucks. Truly sucks. I want to have legs like an 11 year old that heal in time. Well I don’t, and therefore I need to keep my cast for another two weeks.
F**ck. Yes I said it. Actually, no I didn’t, I said: “Helvetes jävla kuksatan” and perhaps something else. I wept like a 5 year old. I pitied myself for how terribly sad it was that I would have to keep that cast and couldn’t go biking. Poor poor me. I had worked so hard. Lifting my legs in every direction. AND I had the flu. Blurgh. WHAT AN INDUSTRIAL-PROBLEM-OF-THE-DAY-BRAT! Oh yeah, poor poor me, I’m a white rich chick living in a rich country with a job flexible and well paid enough to go skiing and biking almost whenever I like. As far as I know, I don’t have any deadly diseases or syndroms. For God’s sake, I don’t even have a broken heart! HTFU! Ok. So another 2 weeks with a cast and a cold. Bring it on! And now, for something completely different. I give you:
ATTACK OF THE KLÖVER
Oh, this is a favorite! Its a great memory for several reasons. First, it was my first winter camping ever. Second, I got to know what it feels like to sleep with mice and what an exploded ABS airbag looks like, and third I got to know a whole bunch of terrific people. Actually, it is so good that I’m going to write a sequel. Anyway, here it goes. Part I: When I was about 11, a new boy started in my class. It was kind of special because he was the only one taller than me at that time.. I wish I could say that we became best friends and did a lot of cools stuff together. We didn’t really. We just hung out like kids hang out at that age, with the rest of the kids in the class. As we started secondary school, the class split up and that was the end of it. For about 20 years. Then, one night in the autumn of 2011, as I was visiting my local water hole Scharran for a concert, I felt someone tapping my shoulder. David. 20 years later, but looking almost exactly the same. Only now much much taller than me. Nothing much happened after that for a while. We befriended each other on Facebook of course. But nothing else. As the winter came over us however, it became clear that David and I shared the interest for snow, and since I was a bit desperate for friends to ski with, I immediately wrote “HELL YEAH” on his his question “Anyone up for a easter trip to north Norway?” on Fb. I didn’t really think that he would take me up on it. After all, I knew that I was not a terrific skier, and I knew he was, AND he knew absolutely nothing about me. But he did. Crazy guy. In order to see if we could endure each other’s company, we did the only right thing to do – we went camping in the Klöver cabin in the alpine terrain outside of Borgafjäll with Martin and two other guys we barely knew the weekend before Easter. It was a wonderfully unplanned trip. Very very unlike me, and very very like Martin, Mattias and Aron. It was a very very interesting experience. Aside from our destination, nothing was arranged two hours before take off. Instead of getting the material needed one or two days before, we passed by IKSU on our way out of town to get some cooking utensils, tent and a sleigh, only to find that the only sleigh left was a super heavy thing from the 1970’s. Instead of planning meals, writing lists and getting the groceries before we left, we darted in at ICA in Åsele just before closing time to get the random food stuff. Naturally, nothing was opened when we drove into Dorotea where we had planned to have dinner, so we ate at the gas station. We reached the parking lot in Borgafjäll at about 10 pm. At that time, we had about a 1.5 h hike to the cabin.
During the hike up, I was walking blindly, just following the backs of the others. I had absolutely no idea where we were heading, or how long it would take us to reach the place. Luckily, Mattias and Aron had tons of experience and knew exactly where to go, and before I knew it, the Klöver cabin appeared out of nowhere in the dark. Such a beautiful sight!
The Klöver cabin has no isolation, but it has both a fireplace and an outhouse. I had expected shitting out in the open the whole weekend, and I hate shitting out in the open, so finding out that I would be able to take a dump while sitting on a plank with a hole in it was pure luxury. Waking up in the middle of the night by the sound of a mouse nibbling on my hair was just a bonus.
The next day, we woke up to a beautifully sunny morning on the mountain, and to pellets in our boots (?). At first, we thought that it was a practical joke by someone in the group, but we then realized that it was the mouse using our shoes as food storage.
We decided to start the day by hiking up the north end of the valley. When we had gotten half way, we saw the chartered snow cat from Borgafjäll charging into the valley… No worries, they would probably go somewhere else… Or? At about 20 vertical meters from the summit, the snow cat passed us. Slowly slowly, with 12 skiers staring out at us from the windows. We reached the summit just in time to see the other skiers skiing down the face. But they chose the boring way down. Ha! So we got fresh wind blown pow and a perfect spot for a morning snack in the sun. On our second lap of the day, the wind that always blows over Klövern and Jenjen brought in some low hanging clouds. Since there are no trees, and barely any cliffs on the mountains, we found ourselves in a complete whiteout. I was the last one skiing down. I heard Mattias and Aron talking about a release from a small cornice , so I was a bit on my toes and chose another way down. After a few nice turns, I suddenly felt the ground moving under me. I couldn’t keep my balance. Convinced that I had triggered an avalanche I pulled the trigger to my ABS. As the balloons were filling up, I saw Mattias leaning over me with a puzzled look on his face. There was no slide. I had fallen on my butt standing still.. Yes, it was a little bit embarrassing, as was skiing down to the cabin with two butterfly wings over my head, and meeting some other skiers touring up . But at least I got to know that the ABS system worked, and that I had the reflex to pull the trigger :).
After some lunch, folding of ABS airbags, and gathering at least some pieces of my scattered self-esteem, we climbed Klöverfjället and went down “Turiståket”. It was great: Bullet proof pow pow from top to bottom.
To make me feel better, and to finish off the day in the right manner, David had the courtesy to accidentally pull his ABS trigger and inflate one of his airbags. The other exploded inside the backpack. He is such a gentleman.
Sunday morning greeted us with sun and warmth (and more pellets in our boots). We spent it going up and down the eastern part of Jenjen. No sight of the snow cat, and no whiteout. Just pure joy.
Aron spent his lunch break climbing the peak cairn of Jenjen with a pole and a shovel handle. We spent ours watching him.
And then, we had some fun.
After a couple of really nice runs down Jenjen, we were ready to head back home, pack up all our stuff, and then pack them back down again to head for our Easter holiday in Lyngen. After 58 hours together with David, I was convinced that it would be a blast. And it was.