Fun and responsibility – on the go on all fours

I hear in a lecture by the ancient Alexander Kluge: “Time does not always take place horizontally, chronologically, but sometimes vertical.” Temporary layers lie on top of each other, not side by side.

And my friend of the archaeologist says: »There are no historical layers per se. They are constructed by archaeologists afterwards to tell the stories that the story wants to tell itself. They provide as much information about the situation at the time of historiography as about the time described. «

I’m hanging on the slope. “Let yourself fall into the slope, not in the abyss. The mountain is your friend, ”says D. I claw on grass tufts, robe on all fours along the stone wall, earth under my manicatures fingernails. Straight out on the vertical crawl and make noises that you never hear before.

I remember how a friend says: “If you turn the mountain around about 180 degrees, it is right now.” The thought of the mountain as something horizontal that was only moved does not calm me down. Instead, I think of the verticality as something soothing. Call me into the chain that you hit in the rock and the Stone Age layers. The mountain as historical accumulation, memory of time. All of this is lied. I didn’t think of anything. Except maybe to my funeral. Pessimism as a mode operandi. And then to the positive surprise if it goes uphill and not downhill. Border experiences are addictive.

We go like the seven dwarfs (or the seven doors) in a row, F. sits on the comb like on a horse saddle and says: “From here it gets easier, easy.” Every time it is a lie. F. is an optimist. A hiker comes towards us whose legs look like they are elastic. On pleased rubber bones he goes along a narrow line between the valleys. He beams at us and claims that it gets less steep from now on. F., a few meters ahead of us, later confesses that he has attached it to us to spread a good mood. My legs tremble. T. gives me his hand. Once D. pushes me along a rock wall with his whole body because I am frozen in the middle of the movement.

F. says: »Look, opposite us is a mountain that looks like a toblerone. There is a cloud that looks like a donut. ”A hole in heaven. But not the ozone hole. The thought of sugar wears me down the mountain. The thought of cold water carried me up. Civilization is shown in the form of a bass that suddenly penetrates through the forest. F. likes to share. No cereal bar is consumed alone. Sometimes I am worried whether in the end there is something left of his provisions, which he carried up in his backpack. Letting the backpack carry from another dwarf goes against the climber. I still have the soaking wet backpack taken from the flip -wet back twice, D. wears it like a child on the belly.

There is no insurance on the mountain. Nothing is in vain. You wear yourself up. The powers remain on. The reward is the view and sometimes the ice -cold lake or waterfall. It was never clear to me that water actually means life. In the penultimate lake, tiny liners swim axolotl, a group of teenagers cools beer and vodka next to them. They wore vodka bottles 1800 meters upwards, it was worth it.

They crawled through the lake and jump off the rocks. I always imagine the worst. When people jump into waters of high stones, I am already dizzy. I imagine how we call the mountain rescue and wonder where the helicopter would end up. When jumping, the teenagers hold their hands in front of the crotch so that it doesn’t pinch. They do ass bombs and abdominal slaps. Every time you reappear, I breathe a relief. I stop the air for as long as you.

If someone occupies the stone on which we would like to sunbathe, we are insulted. This is our stone, we think. We prefer to be alone anyway and that is usually the case. Encounters are rare and if, then warm. One talks about nothing but about paths that you have covered. A brown burned local dries his neon yellow shirt by hanging it on one stick. His sun hat right next to it. We are enthusiastic and imitate his technology. He bathes his leathery body naked and holds a beer can in each hand. He drinks alternately from one of them.

Encourage everything here, mystical. It is not fairytale. Nothing is lovely or sentimental. Even the moss is scratchy. I learn: The red marking means that you only need two limbs to locate. With the blue markings you need all four. For climbing. I also crawl, from gas bushes to grass bushes.

F. finds a stick and uses it as a walking aid. I think of the sphinx’s riddle: a person goes as a child on all four legs. Soon on two. And as an old man on three, on the stick. Sometimes we go to six.

My mother always said: “The heavier you are, the better. You have to complain, take advantage of gravity, leave traces or at least print it. “And I remember, as F. says:” The beginning of culture is where people no longer leave the sick and injured, but began to maintain them. “