A few Steps from Home

"No problem, my van has four-wheel drive!" Johannes' euphoric words have long since faded away. Meter by meter, we try to make it up the freshly snowed-in access road to the parking lot. But there is no sign of four-wheel drive. Maybe that's because the van doesn't have any. So off we go on our skis and skins. We are somewhere between Innsbruck and Garmisch, more or less in the middle between Joi's and our home. We want to spend a few nights in a winter room. We shoulder huge backpacks, filled with food and cameras. Everything that didn't fit in the packs is tied to the outside: There's a bag of onions dangling from one backpack, a baguette sticking from the bottle holder of another. We still have doubts about the following days.

We had some warm weeks and rainy days. So, because of the meager snow conditions, the choice of the hut was the be-all and end-all and not easy: either the area looked promising, but there was no winter room available, or the hut was perfect, only the snow conditions were horrible. Why the requirements? Our goal is to show the kind of skiing you know from the classic American ski flicks: steep spines, deep tree runs, thick pillows, and all of it in the middle of a gigantic landscape. With the difference that everything is right around our corner here in the Alps, with no helicopters or any other unnecessary stuff. Just as simple as possible.

Once we reach the place, we are surprised: Instead of a small winter room, we enter a hut with a kitchen, a bathroom and a spacious dorm. Not a bad spot to hang out. Start a fire, get water, cook, enjoy! Tomorrow, we want to set out early, with the option to catch the first run in the sunrise. That would also be great for some action shots, but Andi, our photographer, is not here yet. When we make coffee at 4 am, our jaws drop: Andi is standing in the doorway, doesn't want any cereal but a double espresso instead. After yesterday's photo job in Switzerland, he immediately got in the car and drove in our direction, climbed the mountain in the dark and first went past the hut, as our tracks were already hidden by fresh snow.

Sometime around 1 am, he eventually found the place. That was three hours ago. In the glow of our headlamps, we climb the valley. As dusk begins to fall, we all get hectic. Who is skiing which line? Where is the camera? Who gets to go first? And so the race against the sun begins. In steep kick turns, we rush towards the summit. "Do you remember where I wanted to drop in?" Hurry now! Skins off, boots tightened and .... boom! The sun rises, everyone is ready to go. Below us, we get a view of true paradise: fresh powder, sunshine, and exposed spikes. When the three of us arrive at the cameramen's position one after the other, bliss couldn't be greater. Everyone is happy.

But then Andi calls us on the radio: He wanted to photograph the whole scene from above, but we totally forgot to give him a sign. Well, let's hike back up; it's still early enough to do another. After the second run, clouds are moving in and we head to the hut, fully satisfied. With a clear conscience, we can enjoy a second relaxed breakfast. As Joi brings out the Uno playing cards, it starts to snow. That's exactly how we imagined it. In the afternoon, some of us head back out again. Jochen found a perfect spot for a kicker; Joi discovered a pillow line in the trees. The next morning, we find our skis under a good 30 centimeters of fresh snow. Great! We go directly from sleeping position to skiing position – literally!

Right in front of the hut, we spend a perfect day with many short but fun runs. The day goes by so fast that we almost forget about the kicker that Jochen shaped in the evening. "Hurry up now; it's about to get dark!" Without a speed check, Jochen drops straight in. From above, it looks like he's going to land in a creek bed. That's how hard it is to estimate speed and direction. "Go faster!" he shouts back up to us. Max hikes up some additional meters, pushes hard and lands his 7 just beside Johannes, who gasps at him, camera in hand, startled and open-mouthed. Two more hits for everyone, then the light is turning bad.

Without a speed check, with a short landing and a completely blind approach, we are happy to have landed everything and look forward to seeing the pictures. Unfortunately, there was no good perspective, and none of it will make it into the movie later on. Not the first time, and probably not the last. Another early morning, another fortune. We start hiking again, towards the spines and in the light of our headlamps. No sign of the sun; it's still dumping. According to the weather forecast, however, it should be nice from 9 o'clock. We envision what is probably the only cloud in the entire area sitting in the sky, motionless above us. "Let's go, get ready; there's a hole in that cloud in 30 seconds!"

Boots still open, mouths full of granola, no gloves, totally stressed. "Ah, no way!!" Chill, there's no hole. The cloud is stuck, motionless. And so it goes. Joi and Max are tired of waiting and venture into the couloirs around the corner. Eventually, the "hole in the cloud" does come. Jochen sticks his trick right in front of the camera. Joi and Max also return to take advantage of light and contrast. At the end of it, the day turns out great. Reluctantly, we pack our bags after the extended weekend and ski back down to the valley one last time. As it turns out, this would not be just our last opportunity to ski for a while. Covid-19 is just around the corner. Accordingly, the message we intended to convey with the film becomes a matter of course for the upcoming months and all of us: "A few steps from home."