2019-2020 Season, November, Sunday River

Remarkably Unremarkable

Sunday Punch
Sunday Punch

I was not planning to write about my latest early season outing. My journey is continuing in a positive direction. The veil is slowly being lifted; my tale continues to be recast. But there was nothing remarkable about this day.

Yet, that is a remarkable thing to acknowledge: things are getting back to normal. It is normal to go skiing twice during a weekend. It is normal to do that two weekends in a row. It is normal to get a lot of ski days during November. It is normal to look forward to those days.

It is normal to want to write a new post about the journey.

It is remarkable how far things had gone the wrong way. During the past few years, I tried to come to terms with the new normal. It didn’t seem possible to feel any other way. It didn’t seem possible to feel anything. It didn’t seem possible to do anything about it. It didn’t seem possible to do anything.

What changed? I found small pieces of inspiration in interesting places. I realized that I couldn’t do it by myself. I got help. And I encourage anyone who has stared down that abyss to do so as well. If for no other reason than this: reaching out for help cannot make things worse, but it could make things better.

I look forward to getting on with it and continuing to set things right.

2019-2020 Season, Earned Turns, Jay Peak, November, Powder Day

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

2019-2020 Season, November, Sunday River

Time Changes. I Resist.

Upper Sunday Punch
Upper Sunday Punch

The plan was simple: when Daylight Saving Time ended, time would change but my daily routine would not. Instead of gaining a one-time extra hour of sleep, I would wake up and go to bed “an hour earlier”. The time would change but I would not change with it.

The only challenge was not lapsing forward into “new time”. That entails waking up everyday at 5:30am, even on weekends. Especially on weekends (a good habit during ski season). Equally important is maintaining a 9:00pm bedtime to ensure I do not push my internal clock forward into “new time”.

Lately, YouTube has taken too many hours away from my life without providing much positive benefit. Endless video recommendations auto-play until I get tired and go to bed; sometimes when I should have, often far later. Which would be fine if it was improving my life and the behavior was intentional. It wasn’t.

You do not magically gain an extra hour when you wake up an hour earlier. Not literally, anyways. You just move a block of awake time from the evening to the morning. But if that hour changes from passive screen time to active intentional time, then I have gained much more than an hour. I’ve gained part of my life back.

2019-2020 Season, Earned Turns, Jay Peak, November, Powder Day

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.

2018-2019 Season, Killington, May

Ubiquity & Bewilderment

Superstar

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.

Superstar

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.