Sinaia – Valea Dorului, 13–14 februarie 2016
Fotograf: Sergiu Gheorghe
It's Friday, almost closing time.
Sergiu is still down at 1,400 m, so I squeeze in one last quick run before heading to the 2,000 m station to wait for him. I step onto the platform and watch the cable car slowly approaching.
The doors open.
First, I'm handed a large bag. Then, a hello.
Sergiu has brought more gear than I expected — and slightly more pessimism than we need.
I smile and let him talk.
We head down into Valea Dorului, where Alin has already prepared a room with an extra bed for us. Over mulled wine, I start telling Sergiu about the plan.
“Skiing doesn't end in Valea Dorului,” Bubulu used to tell me.
For a long time, I had no idea what he meant.
Until I bought a pair of touring skis.
At first, I explored the surrounding terrain simply to get used to climbing with skins. But somewhere along the way, I began discovering something else: spots I'd never considered before.
Some of them deserved to be photographed.
And Photoride was the perfect reason to bring Sergiu along.
Saturday's plan seems simple: breakfast, then Après Ski Bar H2O. I'll play some music until the guys from Golan arrive, and towards sunset we'll head out to the spots.
At least, that's the plan.
The weather quickly changes it.
The party moves indoors, the concert is postponed, and the fog takes away the sunset we'd been hoping for in the Best Photo category.
Around 5 p.m., we return to Valea Dorului, eat, and reorganize everything.
If we can't have the sunset, we'll use the night.
We wait for darkness, grab the shovel, and head towards an old ski lift station.
One of the shots I have in mind for Best Jibb is a wall ride.
While I build the kicker, Sergiu tests different positions and searches for the right angle. Dana comes along to light up my approach.
Everything is ready.
On the first attempt, I jump straight past the wall and, to my surprise, take a serious tomahawk. I get back up and stand still for a moment, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness again.
I try again.
This time, my edge touches the wall.
The sound of metal against metal instantly destroys my concentration.
I climb back up.
Breathe.
And this time, I commit.
Pop. Board up. A loud slide. My eyes stay on the wall probably longer than they should.
I land almost in the same position I had on the wall ride, and then the board goes over my head.
It hurts a little.
I get up before I have time to think too much about it, strap in again, give the signal, and go.
I land it.
The flash fires.
Sergiu insists it wasn't him and immediately says:
“One more.”
But I'd felt it.
We look at the photo.
We smile.
We have it.
Dana still looks slightly horrified by what she's just witnessed.
I throw a few sprays and reverse cambers in front of the cabin, then we head inside.
We spend some time with the guys at the cabin before I swap my snowboard for touring skis, put on the skins, and head back outside.
We climb towards Scândurari.
We're looking for stars.
We get a blizzard instead.
A few unsuccessful attempts and two faceplants later, we turn around.
Back at the cabin, we have a beer.
Then, for reasons I still can't quite explain, I put the skis back on and climb all the way to 2,000 m.
I ride back down.
It's 2 a.m. when we finally get into bed.
The light comes on.
I hear Sergiu calling my name.
It feels like I've only just fallen asleep.
It's 5 a.m.
Aveam în plan Best CarveWe have Best Carve planned, but the snowcat hasn't groomed the slope yet. Sergiu grabs his tripod and heads outside, warning me not to fall asleep again.
While he's out there, he gets Best Landscape..
Daylight begins to creep in.
Then we hear the snowcat.
I gear up and we head outside.
We position the Jeep logo, decide where I'll make the turn, and I head up.
Board straight.
Frontside.
Backside.
Then another frontside with a melon grab.
Best Carve on the first try.
But it feels too early to go back inside.
So we shoot a few more.
Then breakfast.
A little snow has fallen overnight.
On our way towards Après Ski Bar H2O, we spot a few fir trees beautifully loaded with snow.
We're on skis.
A spot appears.
We look it over, Sergiu gets into position, and I tap my poles together to signal that I'm starting.
I pass between two trees, jump — not particularly high — and stop.
We look at each other.
Best Ski.
It probably helps that we don't have much competition.
Higher up, Sergiu spots a better line.
I can already picture myself jumping through the snow-covered branches.
I pick up speed.
Just before hitting one of them, I brace myself.
The branch doesn't move.
At all.
I do.
Best Crash.
At least that category is taken care of.
I fire up the laptop, set up the console, and keep the chill atmosphere going at Après Ski. The lifts aren't running, but riders are beginning to show up.
The wind is still blowing, although the fog is finally starting to lift.
And we have one spot left.
The one that makes me nervous before we've even reached it.
An old ski lift on a steep slope, its cables still hanging in place. Concrete foundations appear beneath them here and there, while the cables sag just enough in our section to make the idea look possible.
But the longer I stare at them, the more the meaning of “possible” begins to change.
I prepare the approach.
Sergiu and I start arguing about the angle for the photograph.
Eventually, I give up trying to win the argument and focus on what I need to do.
I strap in.
Slide.
Slide.
The moment my board touches it, I accelerate violently. The sound of metal makes my body react before my mind has time to catch up.
Too much adrenaline.
Now I also notice the concrete block farther down, directly in my path.
I try again.
And again.
After several attempts, the acceleration and the sound still get the better of me.
I make it about five meters before jumping off.
On one attempt, I fall between the cables. I grab one with both hands and hold on until I'm high enough to move safely out to the side.
Smoke is coming from my gloves.
I try again.
This time, I manage a longer 50–50.
And decide that's enough.
No matter what Sergiu says.
We return to Valea Dorului, collect our bags, and ride the snowcat back up.
Then we descend to 1,400 m.
Tired.
Happy.
The next time we'd see each other would be at the awards ceremony.
