You’re standing on a mountain peak, every which way you look the ground is a pure white. The cliff at your feet is almost indistinguishable from the color-absented ground to your left, right and below.
You’re planning your line to take, scouring for that opening that will allow you to maintain momentum while breaking into the trees. Your eyes somewhat squinting, as if that’ll truly make a difference– struggling to be able to make out the ground from the fog-ridden sky, with white-plated trees playing one of the most well executed games of hide and seek that you have seen in quite some time. There really is nothing to do but drop in. You choose a general spot and commit.
Tip down and elevation dropping fast, the multiple feet of powder causes you to float over the top, shooting a tail of flakes behind you. Every now and then, the elevation change increases unexpectedly. You lean back to reclaim your composure, but with an interstate of soft snow below you, it sucks in your board slightly.
You find yourself leaning backwards at a 45º angle (it’s acute)– essentially doing a wheelie down the mountain towards the tree line. At that very moment, floating through the ground– you have an undeniable realization of the complete happiness that has engulfed you, accompanied by a sense of freedom that is rarely matched.
You break the tree line and slow slightly. Some trees inches from each other, some feet apart– you look ahead to plan your line so you don’t take a trunk to the face. You only have but a mere moment to plan your attack– to the point where you don’t fully realize your thoughts. Your eyes are the captain and your legs are the rudder. They are tied together for instantaneous movement. Once you situate yourself deeply in the trees, and the burn in your calves begin to intensify, you come to a halt. The silence overtakes your senses.
There is literally nothing making any noise other than yourself. The magnitude of your current setting makes you feel so content being small. They say there is always someone out there that is bigger, faster, stronger– but when my rival takes the sheer form of wilderness, I am content residing in a respectable second place. For when you compete with nature, as long as you respect her, the camaraderie formed will be unrivaled by anything else– and that competition turns more into an undying partnership. The realization of this partnership sticks with you as you continue traversing down the mountain. It is a partnership where nothing is forced, expected or taken. On that day– you and the mountain ride together.
Latest posts by Ross M Perkins (see all)
- The Birth of a Mountain Rig – 2004 Honda CR-V - January 29, 2017
- A Night of Craft Beer & Artisan Cheese – Draught Works Brewery & Tucker Family Farm - January 13, 2017
- Secluded Thoughts at Cooper’s Lake Montana - December 26, 2016
- What I Learned from Living in My Car for Two Weeks - September 27, 2016
- How to make a Subaru Camper – Building a Bed in Your Subaru - May 23, 2016