BASE Jumper at Mt. Brento / Italy
[2015.07.07 13:44:22 | Italy | 2 comments]
BASE and Wingsuit jumper at Mt. Brento / Italy close to Lake Garda.
The 6th Annual Ciclismo Classico Bike Travel Film Festival
[2015.05.22 18:23:55 | Germany | one comment]
On Wednesday, May 27th, 2015, the 6th Annual Ciclismo Classico Bike Travel Film Festival takes place in Arlington, MA. They show 12 short movies about bicycle touring, from short trips to year long expeditions.
From the Press release: "The Festival’s mission is to celebrate Bike Month 2015 and to inspire attendees to explore by bicycle. Whether across the globe or a few towns away, there’s nothing that recharges and expands horizons like bicycle travel. The Festival will increase awareness and appreciation for bicycle travel by showcasing independent films that depict the adventure, humor, and growth inherent in two-wheeled journeys. The Ciclismo Classico Bike Travel Film Festival is the ONLY film festival in the USA that focuses specifically on bicycle travel."
That sounds pretty interessting! Too bad that I'm not around Arlington at the moment, especially because my video "a nomad's live" has won the "Grand Jury Award".
So if you are in Arlington - or around - and want to see some great movies: the Ciclisimo Classico Film Festival Page has all the details. Also the Boston Globe reports about it.
And in case you miss the date, you can see the winner movie here:
Wrint Podcast
[2015.02.23 21:05:51 | Germany | 2 comments]
Holger Klein from the german speaking Podcast "wrint" invited me for an interview. If you understand german (or want to try) you can find the episode "WR399 Stefan Böhm zum Thema Radreisen" here.
roaring in the ears - #22 Iguazu erreicht
[2015.01.30 18:37:36 | Brazil | one comment]
To Iguazu by bus. From the icy desert to the jungle; strange change. Acclimatisation for a few days, drinking coffee, laying at the pool, breathing tropical air. Mixture of languages ind the village, visitors from all over the world want to see some water falling down; granted, it falls highly attractive. Since a long time, the water is shaping a big canyon into the rocks, 2,7km long, up to 82m high. A small railway rumbles through the jungle, carries the tourists from the entrance to towards the devils throat. The name is no accident. Footbridges lead to a platform, build pretty close to the first drop. Masses of water hit rock bottom, nebulize and form an obscure curtain of drops. Heavy gusts spraying water all over the platform, everything is in a wet, thick cloud, a cold, moist devil's breath. More footbridges and ways through the jungle, past small an large waterfalls, sometimes above, sometimes beneath, sometimes almost underneath. Dull roar for the while day. A colorful flora and fauna between all the falling water. Green is the main color, also covers most of the brown patches in the scrub. Countless leaf forms on both way sides, often also from top. Noisy all the birds, sitting in the trees or flying close by. If you stand still, wait a second and take a close look, you can find any type of strange creepy-crawlies right beside you feet. But unbeatable in numbers an variations: butterflies. Around 250 different types are living in the national park, many of them are flying and sitting pretty close to the tourists or even suck their salty sweat. Not so peaceful: coatis. They have two hobbies: trash looting and tourist biting. If you're coming to close (or didn't hand over your sandwich fast enough) they snap. And that can end badly. All the signs (including bloody close ups from horrible bitten tourist extremities) are an explicit warning. Better to led some space... It's even more touristic on the Brazilian side. There is only one short way without extra fees and a guide for a walk and big shuttle buses are carrying the masses to the start and picking them just a few hundred meters later, close to the restaurants and souvenir shops - for sure. There are some lookouts on the way where you have a great view over the canyon and a huge tower and a big platform at the end, close to the devil's throat and the highest falls. I stay for some hours, find new perspectives, enjoy the view and the spectacle. I didn't get rid of the dull roar in my ears for the next days...
Henry says: "oh dude, my home is famous for a lot of water, but this..., holy shit, these falls are massive!! But, it's far too warm for a moose like me and thats probably also the reason for the incredible lack of elk women here. On the other hand, there is a lot of tasty green stuff around. But I don't understand why the hostel manager was so angry at me. I mean, the green specialties in the garden, why did he arranged them so lovely and appetizing if it was not for eating?!?"
Bericht Badische Zeitung
[2015.01.03 12:07:08 | Germany | no comments]
The german local newspaper "Badische Zeitung" has an article about my journey under the title Pinguine, Partys, Südseestrände ("Penguins, Partys, South Sea beaches").
900 Tage
[2014.10.01 22:00:21 | Bolivia | 3 comments]
The head full of ideas, the hard drive full pictures, an empty bank account. Time for a winter camp, sort ideas and pictures, refill the holiday fund. After two years south America it’s also time to see family and friends in person, to put some nonsense in the nephews head and just let the paper falling – south America travelers know exactly what I mean.
For 900 days I lived out of my panniers, was staying where I want, how long I want and with whom I want. I’ve been sitting mouth open under the incredible starry sky of the Atacma desert, fought 5000m a.s.l. on my bike against sand, steep uphill’s and lack of oxygen, was philosophizing with people from all over the world about the live, the universe and all the rest while drinking icy mountain water, fresh fruit juice or tasty red wine. And I did, heard, felt and saw hundred thousand things more. This freedom, this independence, this driven by my own curiosity only – I don’t want to miss that anymore.
What’s next? For a handful months, the panniers will be in Germany. But then back to the road again. Until then there is a lot to do: filling the wallet, work on this website and write more articles, sorting the 400GB on raw files just from this year and think about all the great ideas I had on the road – probably just to dismiss them.
But now I need to pack. The plane leaves tomorrow.
far south - #222 Antarctica reached
[2014.09.01 21:50:36 | Antarctica | 3 comments]
Antarctica. Cold, rejecting, hostile to life. Dream destination for somebody who wanted to be an explorer as a child. The heroes of the childhood: Amundsen, Scott, Shackleton. Logbooks and expedition reports instead of comics. Together with an adventures woman I stand in the harbor of Ushuaia. Not an old shabby sailing ship is waiting for us, a big modern cruise ship is on the quay. Welcome at the gangway “you’re the two germans!” – “um, so why?”. Broad grin; “We have 166 Chinese and you guys”. Cultural adventure on top.
First of all: modern arctic “expedtions” cruises are as comparable to the old expeditions as a donkey cart with the latest model of $GermanPremiumCarCompany. The biggest challenge is to keep the all evening 3 course meal (shrimp cocktail instead of scurvy!) where it belongs. It was not always working.
Instead of months - or even years – at sea, we spend only 15 days (all inclusive and always cared) on board. At the end we’ll be 7 times ashore. For not getting bored: cruise program. Fortunately they left the Fun professionals at home and got some real pros aboard. Geologist, photographer, historian, ornithologist, biologist – it’s lecture time. Of course, a bit traditional: Captains Dinner, BBQ on deck, live music night, costume party and original – of course! – Chinese karaoke. Mandatory sessions: emergency exercise, safety drill, biosecurity including vacuuming cloths and equipment and disinfect footwear.
Ashore on Zodiacs. Hundreds of penguins, wild tumult on the beach, tight small groups, loud scream of the young for food, loud scream of the old against attackers, industrious nest building, apathetic brooding, tired stretching, vigorously arguing, affectionate welcome, creaking radio, rushing outboard, too fast back aboard.
Another beach, another colony, the camera is clicking on the tripod. A few meters further, some penguins inspecting my stuff. I move slowly closer. Eventually the discover me, thinkof me as interesting, moving towards me. One starts pecking my jacket, then the back of my hand, then my fingers. Attacked by wild Penguins in Antarctica. I can’t stop smiling.
Experienced Vladimir at the outboard. He reliably finds the interesting places. A leopard seal less than 10 meters from the boat. In his mouth a penguin, he throws his head back and forth, so he pulls the feathers over his head – literally. 5 minutes later we circle around a floe, a leopard seal on it, asleep. We come close, very close. The animal raises tired its head, examined the clicking cameras half asleep, yawning photogenic and goes back to sleep. The next floe, the next leopard seal. Again we get closer without any signs of disturbing the animal. “Humpback Whale” creaks the radio, Vladimir turns the boat, opens the throttle. To other Zodiacs mark where we aim to. In front of them a floats a dark spot in the water. Now and then a fountain hisses high. We wait for what everyone is waiting here: the majestic descent, topped by the high rise fluke. The moment comes, is over much too fast, but burns deep in the brain. The shiny, smooth black surface of the fluke, water beads off, the gentle arc in which the fluke rises from the water, the moment in which it seemingly weightless pointing skywards, the consummate elegance when the fluke finally cuts into the water and the slight curl which remains on the surface. Vladimirs radio creaks, we must return to the ship. All begging and bothering does not help, the captain called.
Evening at the bar. I fished a piece of ice in Paradise Bay. From the glacier. Dark, old, crystal clear. A whiskey with thousand years old ice, a must. Use on your own risk, the bartender accepts no responsibility for the quality of ice. Also on your own risk: the extended stay in the bar. The original Chinese Karaoke system is running and the singer – let’s stay polite – has endeavors within its means. Good thing there are only Chines songs, so could easily skip the session. For everybody’s sake.
South Georgia. The last stop of the trip. Here – in more detail in Grytviken – ended Shackleton’s heroic rescue ride, here ended his life, here he was laid to rest. Of course a visit at the grave, of course I pose for a photo. Founded in 1904 and left more or less in 1966 Grytviken tells a rusty story of the local whaling history. Thousands of whales were hunted, cut up, processed and shipped. Today they only catch tourists. Museum, post office, gift shop. The main sales seems to be Royal Family Devotionals, very British. Maybe the hand full of British official’s need resistant supply of “Royal Baby – collector’s edition” cups for being a valid part of the Empire. Anyway, more fascinating is what happens in the other bays of the island. For here, here there is a truly royal family, the king penguins. Tens, no, hundreds of thousands small dots line the shore. We go ashore and are in the midst of a huge King Penguin colony. Again, wild tumult, loud screaming, little brown chicks vying for attention of the almost one meter high adults, skuas flying low in search of easy victims, seals sleeping nearby, giant elephant seals arguing beside, a gigantic sea of black and yellow heads… each second, every direction deserves attention, everywhere fascinating, constantly. In between, I lose my eyes for a few seconds on the horizon, the screaming sounds dull away, my head cannot believe where I am, what I see, what I experience. Over and Over again.
Henry says: "The temperature range is quite comfortable and there is some real snow under the hooves! Also the salad buffet was great, but the whiskey selection at the bar sucks. Not even one single malt! Hello?!?! And to be honest. Hundreds of kilometers on a shaking boat without any elk woman (okay, there was a cute bug aboard), just to see for a handful of minutes some flightless birds being too stupid to walk onto the beach without falling over. I don’t know. And no green stuff anywhere. And the grass shit growing on South Georgia Island is only good enough for the dumb reindeers living there and missing one boat after the other. Nice, but nothing for life."
Due to reasons™ the video of my Antarctica visit will be publieshed later. Thank you for your patience...#
A nomad's life
[2014.06.04 18:07:47 | Argentina | one comment]
The last one and a half year as a nomad in South America.
Kind of a sequel to northern Europe by bike.
reached #4 Easter Island
[2014.04.14 19:10:15 | Chile | one comment]
Preface: in some coding languages, a $ sign as first letter marks a variable. For easier understanding you usually name a variable with a word that gives you an idea of the variable content. $name probably means a random Name, maybe Stefan or Henry.
On the list of crazy things man invents in his - on crazy things extremely rich - history, "Moai" expected to be near the top. Almost 900 of these stone statues stand and lie around on Rapa Nui. Size: colossal, purpose: unknown. On top to that a still not decrypted written language, a bunch of ominous art and ritual objects, some vague descend customs and rites, all you need for a proper mystical civilization. That this civilization disappeared quite suddenly fits the topic perfectly.
Some facts: Rapa Nui - also known as Easter Island - with 160 km² as big as Liechtenstein or Disney World / Florida, 24km long and 13km wide, located in mid Pacific. 3500 km to the Chilean mainland, 2000 km to the next inhabited island, 5800 residents, subtropical climate, barren landscape. So far, so boring. But there are these impressive Moai. The "Jon DoeMoai" is on average 4 m tall and 12 tons heavy, the highest ever erected is near 10 m, an unfinished one even 21 m. Carved out of solid rock without metal tools, often moved for kilometers across the island, some are even got a heavy red stone "hat".
There are only speculations about the Who and Why. Relevant experts have different opinions, locals tell strange legends and you can yarn your own story while sitting in the shade of a Moai, watching the sunset. The (currently) preferred opinion's been a settlement sometime in the 5th century from West. Whether this was done by a group of heroic explorers, visionary artist, useless telephone sanitizer, nasty pirates and / or religious fanatics, no one can say for sure. Probably the nasty pirates unauthorized reproduced or distributed copyrighted stone statues, where investigated by the FBI and punished with lifetime exile. So the guilty ones where thrown into some canoes with course towards west. They had some space left, so they packed the lazy telephone sanitizers and the religious fanatics also into the canoes. Against all odds, the mob survived the trip, landed on a lonely island and named it Easter Island Rapa Nui. Here in the land of the free, home of the brave, the pirates where able to carve their statues warning letter free, the fanatics enjoying free speech even for their hate preaching, and due to the lack of phones, the telephone sanitizers are laying lazy around the beach all day long. Eventually they get hungry, but there is no one who cares about the food. A proper fanatic tends to be lazy but imaginative, so they explain the telephone sanitizers that the pirates are carving the status because of $imprtantReason, a $bigDisaster threats if the statues are not $keyFeature and if you work dutifully until death, a $unbelievableReward is waiting for them in the afterlife, all others will get $cruelPunishment. Who's not helping is promptly blamed for a recent $misfortune (logical, he has angered $god) and to motivate all others he will publicly $heavyPunishment. The sanitizers are now highly motivated working on the logistical support of the stone carvers and fanatics. This is working great for the next few hundred years, the statues are getting larger, more beautiful and powerful, the fanatics wear wonderful hats, invent funny dances and carve elaborate cult objects, the telephone sanitizers are turning slowly into professional agricultural economists and even colonize the barren inland. In between they fight a little bit about who owns the best / coolest / biggest stone sculpture, splits into a few clans, build alliances and breaks them, steals cult objects / food / women from the others, they just behave as you can expect from a decent high culture of that time. And as the high cultures have to be, one strives on higher and higher. Obvious, the new stone sculptures may under no circumstances less $keyFeature as the ones before. The small island only provides limited resources and so unsurprisingly at one point they start to secure trade routes and stone sources. From about 1500, the local defense industry develops high-tech spears withs sharp obsidian blades, raids and wars increase and the fanatics raise the crowds hard. Just imagine if the crowd would figure out that the $importantReason for carving the sculptures has nothing to do with $bigDisaster, also the $unbelievableReward in the afterlife is maybe nonsense and the whole thing seems just to serve the fanatics to live an easy and fun live. In fact, most would prefer to sanitize phones and hit the beach right after work (phones are not yet invented, so beach for the whole day) instead of work like a dog for vague promises. Time has come in the mid 17th century: the stone workers union calls for a general strike, the statue production stops, the exploited agricultural economists are waiting far too long for a reason to start a revolution and the fanatics lose most of their credibility as $bigDisaster fails to appear even as the statue productions has stopped. Their worldview erodes even more when the first European tourists stops by. There are reports from 1722 about intact ceremonial platforms and erected statues, just 50 years later (the next European visit) the facilities are abandoned, the Moai are overturned, the worldview of the fanatics finally bursts. What follows is the reasonably well documented (and as usual poorly processed) classic rape of an indigenous tribe by European "explorers" with all its disgusting cruelties and brutal savageness.
February 2014. During the first two weeks of the month, the most important festival - the Tapati Festival - takes place on Rapa Nui. A wild mix of sport competitions and modern entertainment, historic preservation and touristic attraction, traditional rites and put-on customs. At noon the gods propitiated with an archaic ritual including a chicken (what else?), just to race down a quite steep hill on banana trunks right afterwards, in the evening men with shirt and feather headdress playing accordion. There are competitions in spear throwing, swimming, paddling, face painting and dancing. Poorly insincere from time to time but mostly wonderful honest and sometimes with pleasent consideration to the present tourist, myself included. On addition the impressive ceremony facilities, the many small and large cultic sites, this very small island with its very large culture. During the whole time on the island I feel like a child, constantly discover new, understand everything and realize nothing.
Henry says: "Yeah, this Island is quiet impressive! We don't have figures like this back home in Sweden. At all, there where no Elk girls, but I met a very sweet and open minded ladybug. We discovered the island together, Stefan was distracted by filming and photographing all the time, sunrise here, sunset there, full moon over there... Oh dear was he stressed..."
swimming Easter Island
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