A Ski to Trail Junction


Winding turns up ahead.


A warning to Matt and Lexi behind me. Everything is just white enough that it all seems to blend together. 

A series of winding turns lie ahead. Weight on the right foot. Weight on the left. Knees just slightly bent. Even if I'm not doing this right, it seems to be working well.




I get past the turns and slow down. Looking back, I hear laughter and groaning but no sign of where one of them probably fell. 

They catch up and we move on. The only major downhill is just ahead of us. 





I can feel myself whipping faster on the small turns. 



The world manages to slow down. My hair wisps tickle my ears and the wind whistles and whistles past my cheeks. Railroad Creek continues to flow blissfully downstream in the distance. I look up to my right and Copper Peak becomes my focal point. The complexities of life dissolve and reality solely consists of sensations. Smell, feel, see, hear. I can do that.



I glide to the bottom and watch the others follow suit. 



Can as I might, no attempt of mine to replicate the silences and sounds and sensation of skiing with good friends will compare to the true feelings one has in the pure outdoors. 

As I have pitifully described this month, we have been studying Environmental Policy every day from 9:00-10:30am, then 11:00am-12:00pm after a much needed coffee break. In this topic alone, the number of headaches one can incur trying to find the answer is nearly endless. People have different opinions, viewpoints, and understandings; if there's one beaming piece of hope I took from studying environmental policy in a unbelievable place like this, here it is: go outside. Be in the mountains. Be in the desert. Be under the stars. Be in the wilderness. Be in the prairies. Be on the rocky coast. Be in the creek. Even if the world and all its woes can't be solved today, at least you can have a clear mind and a ready attitude defending the sights and sensations that make you whole. Take a friend and spread the word.