Après-ski Kraličák

An experiment under Králický Sněžník. There aren’t many people in the Czech Republic who do something like this, but it always pleases me when we meet them.
Bang! Eyes open wide to complete awakening. 4:40, I've been doing this for the fourth week now. I get up, add some wood to the fireplace, and head upstairs so I don’t pass my insomnia onto the rest of the family. Today I'm returning to Hynčice pod Sušinou, at the edge of the world under Králický Sněžník. Spieglitzer Schneeberg. The Sudetes. A deracinated region that hasn’t recovered from the consequences of the Second World War to this day. Now it has a chance - from a combination of farming and skiing, an area is growing in two valleys where you won’t experience a queue for the lifts. We're building wooden domes for après-ski bars in three places at once. That’s my task. Hence the insomnia.
Pack my things, tools, and fix the torn apron on Bručoun. Bručoun is Martin Rajniš’s long-serving Land Rover. I arrived late from my visit to Duchcov yesterday, and the mechanic couldn’t do it anymore. So it’s up to me. A large washer and binding wire.
I have to be at the office by ten. Today marks the end of "A Week in Reality" - a work placement for architecture students. Klára was drawing Duchcov Marina for the future Sea of Tranquility and a walking lookout tower for Český Brod. It seems she enjoyed it.
I leave the fully loaded Defender in Letňany and continue by metro. An hour delay, plus I forgot to throw the ladders on the roof. Damn. A slight shock in the studio. The "team" wants to talk - apparently, we don’t see each other enough and we barely make enough for rent. No wonder, since all the others are studying and have at most two days a week for studio work. Being stuck for three weeks in Hynčice feels like an eternity. Almost no construction is happening in the Czech Republic, with eight realizations a year, we’re actually doing alright. I’ll postpone this conversation for next Wednesday. We need to finish ongoing projects and prepare for the trip.
Monteku misplaced half a kilometer of rope. Celtima is finishing the production of tarps, they’ll bring them to me tomorrow on their own. That seems to be working. I’m going to pick up two new cordless drills; the batteries and chuck went out in the frost. They’re open until four, and at 16:10 I’m already out of luck. Damn. I’ll take our Metábko, I have to grab those ladders anyway…
They’re calling from Monteku, the rope has been found. It’s at the company. So one more trip to Vinoř, another hour wasted. At seven, I pick up Hanka and Ondřej at Ponte Negro. I really feel like I’m setting sail on the sea. I only know four from the team: Tom, Folťas, Hanka from our Archwerk, and Ondra who has been there before. The rest are hastily recruited architecture students from Liberec. A pirate crew, or a construction crew.
The road to Hradec is okay, there’s snow everywhere. Bručoun isn’t heating up. Adam joins us. Foltýnek and his crew are an hour ahead. Tom calls, we need to pick them up in Zábřeh. Apparently, there was a collision at the crossing and the train is delayed unpredictably.
Coffee. This is where civilization breaks down. Further to the East, there are hardly any petrol stations and no McDonald's at all. But beautiful little towns. We’re pushing through the Orlické Mountains - Vamberk - Žamberk - Červená Voda. The snow tongues don’t bother Bručoun, but after the long journey, something started rumbling in the engine. I lower the revs; it’s a bit better. We get to Zábřeh before midnight. The train station is deserted. The train with the guys returned from Řečany to Kolín. Sounds like a bad joke, this will take a while.
There’s life around the community center. Drunken groups are milling around, a fight is brewing in front of the steps. We go inside. Are you from Sulka? No… um. We move on; obviously, they don’t care. On stage, there's a guitar, bass, drums, fun in full swing. “Hi, I’m Milan, a repairman. I don’t know you, where do you work?” The guy takes Hanka to the dance floor. I can’t handle that, so from the next song on, we’re better off just dancing. The dance floor is clearing. I’d stand out in my hiking boots. Pogo and rock’n’roll until two in the morning.
Another refuge in a smoky 24/7 place. The guys are finally here. Off to the mountains, Bručoun can still be a bit breathless with five of us. It’s dark at Spartak; the keys are on the back wheel of Foltýnek’s Yellow Cat. That was almost a 24. In the room, shaper Erik is asleep with Facebook open. I grease the stuck chuck, it purrs like a Colt drum. There will be enough drills tomorrow. We’re getting up at six, and in two, at most three days, we’ll finish those bars.