Deconstruction
“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?”
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.