31.10.2019

Story of Karel Vitoušek: The night in a tent

I’m a passionate climber. I take after my mom. She climbed mountains, she comes from Hrubá Skála. I was lucky to see Mount Everest with my own eyes and climb a 6000 meters, so once it occurred to me - it was in 1979 – why not to use my mountaineering experience from snow camping to get a great starting position at JizerskaFifty.

At that time we started into the funnel on Hrabětická Meadow, and I knew that I would have an extreme advantage if I started in my second wave from the first line. Then I would have only the first wave guys in front of me, who sneak off all the same, so there would only be a white plain in front of me, where I would not have to run into anyone.

Anyone who has ever done Jizerská knows that the start is a separate and cruel event with busting poles, skis and often bones. I have experienced years when the crowd tore off early and it was like an avalanche was set off. I have also experienced impressive discipline, when we were able to wait for a few hundred skiing enthusiasts, who did not manage to get to Liberec in time due to a traffic collapse. 

The evening before the race, I ended up talking a certain young lady onto the Hrabětická Meadow, where we pitched the tent. It was minus five degrees and foggy. Night fell quickly on Jizerká and only the tent cloth separated us from the surrounding frozen nature. 

I have thirty-eight finish line crossings. I gave up only once. At that time there was miserable, wet snow, we were picked up in Smíchava by four buses. Until 1990 I kept a chronicle, in five notebooks I have a description, times and articles that I wrote about the race in newspapers. My entire sporting life is documented in these.

I can compare the Bedřichov race with all the European courses I have passed, including three-time participation in Vas's run.

In 1985 we went to Sweden for the first time. By some miracle, four men were given a foreign exchange promise and set off in a Škoda on an unforgettable trip with skis on the roof. My friend - an emigrant - entered us in the race.

On the way we slept wherever we could, in a sawmill in a pile of sawdust, but also in heated toilets, we sailed by ferry, but we arrived in Moen (the starting point) on time. I will never forget how I crossed the finish line with the national symbol on my chest, by which they recognized that I was not a Swede, but a Czechoslovak, who had for a moment slipped from behind the Iron Curtain. And I started to cry….

Vasak is actually a light race, although it is ninety-two kilometres long. Once you climb a steep slope after the start, only eighty kilometres await you, more or less flat. Jizerská is the most difficult race I know (if I don't count the Jesenická 70, but that was extreme, there they were able to release the runners even with the curfew). My favourite spot is on it. When descending from Holubník, there’s a sharp turn to the left and then a straightaway to Hřebínek; if you get the wax right, it’s possible to just glide. That's the best part, I think.

That time in the tent in seventy-nine, the girl with me had to be terribly cold at night, but it was a wonderful experience. At six o'clock in the morning, we heard shuffling through the tent cloth as the skis glided over the snow. And then more… and more. It was the first fools who also wanted to get the best position at the start, so they got up way early. Eventually the organizers came to us, telling us to get rid of the tent, that we are obstructing the race. But I will never forget that morning atmosphere.

Vasák used to be a holiday trip for me, Jizerská is home. I knew climbers who perished in Peru, Milan Náhlovský in particular, we knew each other from sports. He raced the first year. He finished thirtieth. When the Fifty began to be run in their memory, I had to be there.

I will be seventy-five in April, I’ve had a hip surgery, but I still go. My friend Běla Podhrábská, who stood on the box several times, has been closing the race as an experienced runner in recent years, to make sure no one is left on the track. She is already sixty, but still in shape, she doesn’t weigh as much as a bag of cement.

I tell her, “Běla, I don't want you to pick me up. It will be a long time with me, but remember, I have to finish. ”And she replies,“ I'll let you finish, even if I should push you… ”