Category: New Hampshire

2018-2019 Season, Cannon Mountain, Earned Turns, Middle Hard the Hard Way, November, Powder Day

Deconstruction

Upper HardScrabble

“What was I expecting?”

The thought came to me about half way up a pseudo-skin track on Upper Ravine. A few inches of wind slabbed snow had mostly covered up the skin track, but a faint outline was occasionally still visible. Getting off the track wasn’t horrible, but staying on the invisible balance beam was much more enjoyable.

I turned back and to my right. Looking up to Mount Jackson, I could see a fellow skier descending the Saddle having skinned up via Mittersill. I was not completely alone which lessened the isolating feeling of knowing that you are fucked if something goes wrong. It was simultaneously comforting and annoying.

“What was I expecting? I deconstructed everything. What did I expect was going to happen?”

Upper HardScrabble

Twenty years ago or so, I started saying “the only way you can understand anything is to question everything.” But the logical conclusion of doing so is knowing everything and nothing at the same time. Paralysis. The world would be a better place if things happened based on knowledge.

But knowledge doesn’t cause things to happen. Feeling and drive and motivation and passion make things happen. Knowledge didn’t make me skin up Cannon without a partner three times during this past week. Not very smart, but a helluva lot of fun. Skiing might be the last thing that I have yet to deconstruct.

The one final aspect of reckless abandon that I have left. I treasure it.

It will not be deconstructed.

2018-2019 Season, Cannon Mountain, Middle Hard the Hard Way, November, Powder Day

Keep Going

Upper Hardscrabble

Avalanche

Same skin track, different day. I’m all alone this time. Step. Step. Step.

A few more tracks. Still plenty of untracked. Move. Keep going.

All the way to the summit this time. The legs are still sore from Saturday. Shut up, legs.

Middle Hardscrabble

Turns. Beautiful turns.

Big, wide open, hard charging, bottomless turns. Right down the center of Middle Hardscrabble. Bewildering.

And then more bottomless turns on Zoomer. And again. Zoom Zoom.

Amazing.

Taft Slalom

Taft Slalom

2018-2019 Season, Cannon Mountain, Middle Hard the Hard Way, November, Powder Day

Endurance

Zoomer

knowing how to endure is wisdom
not knowing is to suffer in vain
-lao-tzu (trans. red pine)

Memories trick us into believing that we are Ships of Theseus — that our essence is unchangeable. But memories are fallible, created by emotion. Memories are often false. They are visions of how we wished events happened rather than what actually happened. We are constantly changing, waking up slightly different than the day before. Our brains unconsciously clear themselves of excess baggage, enacting self defense mechanisms to shield our fragile egos.

I woke one day and realized that I wasn’t the same as I used to be. What happened to the unending passion and drive? The wants, needs, and desires were still there but not the energy nor will. What happens when you overcome all of the obstacles that you sought out? What happens when the only obstacle remaining is yourself, but that challenge turns into an utter failure?

Middle Hardscrabble

What happens is you get over yourself. Things will never be as they once were. I am a Ship of Theseus that has been slowly dismantled and rebuilt piece by piece until nothing remains of my past drives. Understanding that fact and accepting that fact — internalizing that fact — are two very different things.

Enduring is action. Action is movement. The old drives and will have failed. Keep moving. It doesn’t matter if there is no goal or objective or passion or will. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t feel like it used to. It never was going to and it never will. Not for me. Not for anyone.

Movement begets movement. Keep moving. You don’t need a reason. You don’t need motivation. You don’t need passion.

Just move. Just endure.

Steve on Avalanche

2017-2018 Season, Cannon Mountain, November

Cannon: Homecoming

Mount Lafayette

Cannon. My favorite mountain. Yet, I have been such a stranger lately. Only five visits during the past two years? It could only mean that my discount strategies have expired. Even today, I refused to pay full price and opted for the half day ticket. Cannon is always good enough for me (even at its worst). But never good enough to pay full price.

Cannon is home. Seems like it always has been and always will be. Yet I’ve skied Jay more times. I have had season passes at Jay but never at Cannon. But Cannon is home and Jay isn’t. Jay has been quite good to me over the years. But it will never be in my blood. Jay is the smart play for reliable trees and powder but… well, there is always a but. Jay is to my mind as Cannon is to my heart.

Franconia Ridge

Before skiing, I stopped by the repair shop for my once per year ski tune. For some reason, I thought I might need it today. It wasn’t my skis that needed the tune up but rather my head. My first turns were a sloppy skidding mess despite the tune and generally soft snow. I wasn’t forward enough, not enough angulation, my stance was too narrow. My mind wasn’t “in it”. I wasn’t going for it like it was yet another epic powder day *yawn*.

But after a few runs, I found some aggression. My hands clenched around my pole grips a bit tighter as I applied forward pressure to my boot tongues and laid an edge that stuck, propelling me forward into the next turn. Not effortless, not like I’ve become used to. But requiring mindfulness and attention, requiring effort and rewarding that effort appropriately. Cannon said “you’ve become soft, push a bit harder”. So I did. And it felt great.