Last Day of the Season

The Bonnie

Staircase

It is pretty rare that I can say that my last day of the season was my best day of the season. If I had to end my season early, at least I picked the right day for it.

I do not have a record of the last time my season ended this early. My online reports date back to 1998-1999. The prior two years I took off from skiing to pursue other activities in college. The last time that I did not ski in March or April, I was a teenager.

This was my 22nd day of the season, my highest number of ski days in six years despite missing the ending half of the season. Something profound changed in my life this season. I hope you enjoyed reading about that change. I hope it reflected in my writing. I hope you find the thing that you want to change in your life and begin the process. For me, the journey continues. But my head is so far out of the fog that I can’t even remember what the fog felt like. For which I am thankful.

I have a lot to say about how the season ended. And I don’t mean about how my season ended or this particularly day at Jay. I don’t even mean to specifically write about the end of the ski season. But rather to use the inevitable season ending as a lens to inspect heuristics and cognitive biases on a societal scale.

It is surely beyond me, but I am going to give it a try.

More later. Right now, there is so much to digest, process and synthesize.

The Powder Deprived (Part Three)

Dude Falcon

The powder deprived masses descended on Jay Peak. Sixteen inches of fresh, pent up demand for powder, the biggest storm of the season (with plenty of advanced publicity), negative temperatures, frigid wind chills, and lift holds: what could possibly go wrong?

The snow was supportive and creamy with just a bit of wind loaded density. The Tram and Freezer were on wind hold, so the powder hounds were all consolidated in the Stateside area. As a result, the Stateside untracked went fast. Sooner than expected, I was cycling the Snail and Bonnie to ski Stateside.

More people than usual were making the Freezer hike from the Bonnie. But what is the point of that when you can just take Wedelmaster? Take it all the way to Beaver Pond if you insist on skiing the most overrated glade in the northeast. But I am dropping into the DP from Wedel for deep untracked after lunch.

Due to the cold, I went inside after every third or fourth run. The Tramside wind holds made for long lines at the Bonnie and the Jet. Normally, I generate enough heat to stay warm in line and on the lift. But the lines were excessive, as was the wind, and I was constantly getting chilled before the next run.

The bitter wind, muscle fatigue, and long Snail to Bonnie cycles all combined to end my day sooner than I would have preferred. It was a great day that had its frustrating moments. It wasn’t epic, but it felt like it should have been. If the weather pattern doesn’t improve, it could end up being the best day of the season.

Affirmation

Can Am
Can Am

“Why do I do this?”

The question was made in jest as I exited my car and felt the zero degree temperature. It was really an affirmation rather than a question. If it were to have been an actual question, then I would have thought the answer was self evident. Last year, that was not always the case.

Every season, I debate whether or not to purchase a season pass. By the time the lifts open, I seem to forget that I invested in a long term season pass worth of gear years ago. The only additional expense is the cost of fuel. I frequently forget to factor in the cost of not using my earned turn season pass more often.

Can Am
Can Am

Narrative

Vermonter

Big Jay

A narrative is a story or account of connected events. The narrative of every ski season varies significantly year to year, but each season’s narrative always includes a beginning. Let’s call today the preface to a new narrative.

My own narrative became contaminated. I developed a false self narrative and I followed the script off a cliff. The story began to frame me instead of me framing the story. The narrative no longer felt like my own. But in an insidious way, it still felt like I was writing the story. A default program stuck in an infinite loop; the story would not progress, the next page could not be turned.

I cannot control the narrative of the ski season. But I can (exert the illusion of) control (over) my own narrative. I can choose how to present the narrative arc of the protagonist. I can stop the record from skipping incessantly. I can lift the record off the turntable and break it apart like the problematic unconscious self narrative that was endlessly repeating in my head. I choose to recast my tale.

Buddy's Bench

Upper Milk Run

Reach out for help.

And then reach for the next sheet of paper, reach for a pen, and start writing again.

Reach for a summit that once inspired you and then open yourself up to be inspired again.

Green Beret on Veterans Day at Jay

Green Beret

a giant tree grows from the tiniest shoot
a great tower rises from a basket of dirt
a thousand-mile journey begins at your feet

-lao-tzu (trans. red pine)

Most people think the hardest part of a journey is the first step. It’s not. The hardest part of a journey is every additional step after the first one. People take first steps on intended journeys all the time. It is easy to take a first step when you are inspired or motivated. Sustaining that inspiration or motivation is the challenge. Seeing intentions through, resolving a step from an act into a habit, is the hardest part. First steps are trite (and not accurately quoted from the source material).

Green Beret

This outing began much like the last. Uninspired. I was tired from twelve hour work days and six day work weeks. But then, I saw pictures from other people on their own journeys, dealing with their own challenges. I’ve been down on internet stoke for quite a while. I don’t even like the word. Stoke. Who needs pictures to get excited to go skiing? I do, now, I guess. Or, at least, it temporarily tripped me out of my slumber, altering my gait.

Lately, I am connecting with ski touring in a different way. There is something about that sound, that cadence…

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

etc.