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Deska: Fifteen Inches of Pure White Snow

This climb began as a compromise and turned into a quiet confrontation with winter. Deska was not the original plan. I came to this part of the Savinja Alps knowing snow might dictate the day, and it did. The approach roads higher up were already blocked, forcing a change of strategy and a start from Planina Podvežak. Even reaching the parking at 1,450 meters felt earned, with winter already asserting itself far below the ridgeline. What followed was a short loop on paper, but nothing about moving through deep, inconsistent snow is ever simple. The previous week’s thaw had left the surface deceptive: sometimes firm enough to trust, sometimes collapsing without warning. Walking became a constant negotiation, searching for wind-hardened, icy patches that could carry my weight, while knowing that one careless step could mean sinking thigh- or hip-deep into soft powder and paying for it with energy and time. Distraction didn’t help. Filming, exploring, drifting slightly off line, it was enough to turn a straightforward route into a small drama. But that drama felt appropriate. The title that played in my head while climbing -Fifteen Inches of Pure White Snow - wasn’t just a measurement. It was a mood. A rhythm. A quiet echo of Nick Cave somewhere between effort and solitude. Parts of that song, and its spirit, found their way into the video. As the morning unfolded, the mountain changed character. The sun broke through, and everything turned blindingly white. Goggles became necessary, not optional. Wind picked up higher on the slopes, shaping snow into fragile crystals that clung to shrubs and trees like powdered sugar. The landscape felt sculpted rather than natural; temporary, precise, and indifferent. Clouds lingered stubbornly around 1,400 meters, forming a shifting ceiling below the summit. I spent time there, watching them churn and slide, capturing the turbulence before eventually descending back into their gray interior. Above them: sharp light, wind, and silence. Below them: muffled sound and disappearing contrast. Despite the conditions, the drone flew. Carefully. Briefly. The shots it allowed are less about scale and more about texture: snow, wind, light, and isolation interacting for a short window before winter closed in again. This video is not about conquering a peak or ticking a route. It’s about adaptation. About reading snow, accepting uncertainty, and finding beauty in a plan that had to be rewritten on the fly. If you’re drawn to quiet winter ascents, imperfect decisions, and the strange clarity that only snow and wind can create, this journey might resonate with you. You’re welcome to walk it with me. 2026-01-18 Deska - Savinja Alps - Slovenia Bergfex: https://www.bergfex.com/mybergfex/act... Relive: https://www.relive.com/view/vXOnzXy1dBO ____________________ Music: Gothic Blues Instrumental - Alana Jordan Somewhere Nice - John Bartmann Moving On - Wayne Jones Pink Sunrise - The Great North Sound Society Somnolent - The Tides ___________________