This winter has not been cooperating for me and the west coast. I’m calling it the worst ski season I’ve had since leaving Maine for Montana in 2003. I realize my needs are great and expectations hard to reconcile with. A long summer of day dreaming about lofty airs into powder and loosing myself in mountains taller than I’ve ever experienced, is tough to live up to. The dreams linger but reality comes and goes oh so quick. This season it’s been too quick for me to catch, leaving a sting without ever seeing the culprit.
There are many layers stacked on-top of my disappointment with this season. Knowing that I am loosing my backcountry knowledge with each passing winter in Portland. Knowing that there are many turns to be had somewhere more mountainous, while I ride my bike to work in the city. Knowing that I am not progressing in the one sport I am focused on. My progression requires many more natural elements to align then the type of riding I grew up doing. For me to progress in the directions I aspire too, I have to place myself on a scary steep powder run with natural airs hidden around corners I’ve never turned into. Man vs. real mountain with powder in-between. I guess I need to be more familiar with disappointment if I’m going to create such challenging obstacles on the way to progression.
This winter has been resting on high hopes of a savior know as the British Columbia powder highway, Nelson was our destination. One snowmobiling trip in the BC backcountry could easily save winter. BC is a place that has been gifted with snow all winter long. Kelso, Reid, Sam and I where preparing to finally put the snowmobiles to good use after a year of them dust and rust collecting. The snow was looking deep and dry three weeks before our departure. So I rented a house to stay in, I reserved time off from work, I even downloaded the GPS maps for the area. The pieces were all coming together for a saving of winter.
Mother nature must have sensed my eagerness. She answered with a sting. The weather has turned upside down making for no other option but to cancel the trip. What makes canceling a week long trip so difficult, is finding another time when four very different people can align schedules to make a second attempt.
So for now, we’ve been skunked. I will soon except this sting, moving on with high hopes of riding my snowmobile somewhere this winter. BC may have to wait for another winter.