Standing atop the Superstar Glacier, I gazed down the bump ridden landscape and contemplated… nothing. Nothing at all. When did it stop being astounding?

“Can you take our picture?”

I obliged the trio of young ladies, providing them with snapshot fodder for their Instragram posts.

The thought occurred to me that I should also record the moment with a photograph. But why? Would I post it to Facebook to show all my skier friends what they were missing? An ego post from a self curated life which is rarely engaged in truly amazing spectacle? The picture wasn’t intended to be used for conditions reporting for others nor creating a memory for myself, which were the original intentions of this blog. I thought to myself, “Fuck that shit.”

And then I took the picture.

But I took the picture with this post in mind, a post that has been brewing for months. A post about when the content creator of this blog (and perhaps those of many other ski blogs) lost his inspiration. And why. But without providing any insight into how to rekindle said lost inspiration. For what this site once was. For what skiing once meant. For what my perceptions of reality once were.

This post is also about a shifting culture and the implications of living life through lenses and screens. What pictures once were and what they have become. Reflecting on the past vs. bragging about the now. Why do we post? Why do we read? Why do we care? I have more questions than answers.

Before everyone had a phone in their pocket with unlimited high-quality digital film, photographs were special. They documented things rarely seen. We shared them with reverence, providing others a glimpse into the most important moments of our lives.

We spray a never ending stream of pictures at everyone we know. Our friends and family have no reference point for what is actually special, kind of interesting, or rather mundane. It is all so amazing! The most important aspects of our lives are given equivalence with the least. When everything has high importance and meaning, nothing stands out. Instead of pictures showing the momentous, they show the momentless.

The more ubiquitous pictures have become, the less I have been interested in taking them. It is difficult to find motivation to take more pictures when you can google anything in the world and scroll through an endless page of images. I am not adding anything unique to the online multimedia landscape.

The best I can do is turn the camera around and show the world how happy I once was in that briefest of moments. Look at me! My life is amazing! No, it isn’t. Neither is yours. Rather, it is amazing that we have lives.

Nowadays, I find myself choosing to quietly enjoy the bewilderment, awe, and amazement in silence rather than reaching for a camera. I’d rather relive my memories in solitude than type them out. During this past season, thesnowway.com was filled with observations about life rather than observations about skiing or conditions. It will continue to be that way.

I’ve never posted less during a single season. Yet, I’ve never had more to say.

I am always reflective on the last day of the ski season. Seasons begin and end and begin again in one big blur. Some ski days are epic, others not so much. One day becomes the next until all of a sudden you’ve stopped appreciating the magic that can be found whenever you are on the snow.

But I always appreciate the last day of every season. I always remind myself not to take it for granted, after doing just that for every other day during the season. It is hard to be reflective when you are engaged in the madness, desperate for that next powder day.

The madness subsides and things slow down a bit by May. My health prohibited me from hiking to Tuckerman Ravine for end of season turns in June or July. But it doesn’t matter where or when the last day of the season happens, the feelings are still always the same.

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After weeks of waiting for the perfect spring corn weekend, I realized it may not happen before the season ends. Warm t-shirt weather and perfect spring corn bumps are more rare than a powder day during any given season. But that doesn’t mean that the skiing won’t be fabulous without the warmth, sun, and perfect corn. The late season was passing me by while I awaited perfection when I realized the perfect turn can still be found in less than ideal circumstances.

Those perfect turns were found hammering down Preston’s Pitch, the steep finale to Superstar. I kept finding that perfect line and letting the skis go full speed, bashing the bumps for direction and speed control, more the former than the latter. I kept saying one more run but then I’d find myself turning right back onto the lift rather than turning left towards the lodge. Back up again, trying to find that same line that felt so good during the last run. And failing to find it until that last pitch… and there I was again hitting the same bumps even faster than the last time.

The coverage on Superstar is amazing for mid-May thanks to two weeks of cold and cloudy weather with temperatures well below seasonal norms. The snow was nearly edge to edge and absolutely top to bottom with several sections of Superstar featuring base depths as deep as the chairs moving uphill. Significant amounts of snow were stockpiled at the top and bottom of the run. Memorial Day is almost certainly going to happen. June is a possibility with a little help from the weather.