Am I the skier or the artist?
I've spent enough of my time in the mountains around skiers at this point to know that we spend a decent portion of our days out in the field standing around and pointing our poles at the things we can envision a line to ski down. In some instances these are straightforward couloirs, picture perfect and clearly scouted from several miles away, and in other cases these are convoluted sort of ski mountaineering objectives that may require a rappel entry here and definitely a rappel exit there, and certainly will have some unexpected surprises on that dogleg section that you can’t see well from here. And while I’ve spent a fair share of my own time pointing my poles at chutes and couloirs that I have felt a sort of calling to, it is more often than not that while a friend is describing how they envision their descent with their pole suspended in the air drawing the line, that I just can’t see what they’re seeing.
Instead I find myself quickly entranced by the way the clouds cast shadows over certain faces of a mountain, trying hard to memorize the way the light and shadows contrast themselves across a particular peak. The clouds perfectly suspended for only a couple of brief seconds before it will never look like that ever again. My friends are still talking and pointing, but I’m now pretty far along on a totally different journey. The truth is, I don’t see the mountains through a skiers lens. And I do dream of skiing my own fair share of steep lines here and there - but when I am in the mountains on skis I become far more encompassed in intimately observing the way the light travels through the vast terrain around me. I see the mountains in the elements of line, shape, form, space, value, color, and texture. I squint my eyes as to focus back on the spot the pole is pointing out, “ah yes I see” I tell them. But I still don’t see it. Instead, a new puffy cloud has casted a shadow across a different face and it has encapsulated me.
Backcountry skiing has allowed me a means of travel to a world most will never see. The places I can go on my two feet attached to skis with climbing skins glued to the bottoms has proved to be nothing short of an unbelievable way to experience the mountains. To immerse yourself in a landscape so raw and rugged, to walk through the elements and witness the movement of a storm and the rolling motions of the clouds. I don’t take the moments for granted, as mountain weather is rapidly changing and never replicates the same scene twice. I love the wind in my face on storm days and the sun on my cheeks once it’s gone partially blue.
Am I the skier or the artist? It’s the question I’ve asked myself many many times. I’d say it depends on the day, and I try my hardest to do both at equally high levels. But there is no denying that when it comes down to it - I will always first see the world through a lens of light.
