Big Mountain: Matteo Calcamuggi skiing on the north face of the Lyskamm

The Day has come.
Into words were never more true and liberating to describe the feeling after spending a night sleeping in bits, in the banal excuse of too many beers in the afternoon before. Instead why insomnia is much more simple and straightforward, and rebounds between the two neurons that do not want to turn off.
After years of watching her and woo her, as if waiting for him to go on purpose in poor condition, so riassopire the demon, finally it was time. , My time. Into Almost in disbelief, as the day I lost my virginity.
Wait, wait, and then all of a sudden you the opportunity presents itself.
You can no longer back out and the line is those weighing of absolute purity.
elite of steep skiing spent time here. Into Now we will pass too. Into And I have the honor to do so in the company of the "host", aka Jimmy Sesana, the skier who perhaps more than any other embroidered curves on this monstru of 4527 meters considered a man-eater after the invention climbing.
Today the sky is deep blue and the cold air is pungent.
Once out of the Refuge Mantova expiring at bullshitting.
Now things are set, and so almost no talk get to the rocks of discovery. The crest of access is sharp but the snow is good, over 3900m winter, spring down.
Decide not to bind us, too windy and too dangerous to ski in your backpack to make sail.
It 'a funny feeling the fact of not tie this time, I go here usually linked with clients to make the famous crossing.
Today, however, no crossing of Lyskamm, today the climb ends at the tip.
wind strong continues to rise and the climb becomes difficult for the inconsistency of snow.
One step forward and two steps back.
At the top is impossible to put on your skis, you want to balance, either because it is practically impossible to see where to go so the gusts raise whirlwinds of snow.
And so we are forced to stop 10 m below the tip.
Click-Clack! The attack clique well. Into One breath, two breaths, three breaths. Into The glove holds the knob of the stick and the arm pushes the body forward.
For a split second I sense an asynchronous between body and spirit.
The first advances, the second remains anchored to the pitch freshly dug and already almost covered with snow in the wind.
Three micropiegamenti to feel the blade.
support and I lay on the tail of the ski lifts up to a few centimeters and quickly follows the line of the trowel.
Feather.
The foot feels now that the snow is perfect.
I can not believe 10 curves ringed with absolute precision, better than the Italian national all'Interski.
The problem remains the wind and the continuous sluffs, small streams of fresh snow, able to push the paddles downstream or even worse, you lose your balance.
Today I do not have the action cam, I deliberately left at home.
time is too intimate.
phone only to make small shots in the only two micro stops the descent.
The rest is concentration and rhythm.
The central part is steeper and poor, feel the wall close reach you in the ass. Into The ice here emerges in 3/4 a turn and you have to be light and precise as a surgeon.
Our lines are far apart on purpose, so as to be able to avoid head to get us in the continuous casting.
14 minutes at 180 beats and skip the end of the north.
The circle is closed in style, not a single drift but a large class skiing, fluid like the one I always wanted to do on this wall, for a texture of synchronized curves worthy of the best painter.
10 minutes after the hour of Miky and Dega, up from Alagna with the first bucket.
We enjoy watching their first turns and then have to move your ass since we are under the fire of seracs.
I go up to the hill of Lys tossing occasionally the eye down to the others.
We find then all together to the hill of Lys, tired and happy slip downstream for due festivities.
The wall of the house today has revealed all its beauty.
A thought Filsodo Fedeneg and, a few years ago also passed them here.

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