i will never rule out one last ski, but i am pretty sure last night’s one last ski will be my one last ski of the season.
despite less-than smiley face back pain and a resultant walking gait that has me moving like fred g. sanford, i headed to the onion river road and strapped on my rock skis for a last waltz…a last nordic taste of what has been an amazing winter.
warning: touchy-feely prose to follow
brown earth erodes winter’s white. pure water courses through the draws to the streams to the rivers to the lake to the ocean to the clouds to the draws to the streams to the rivers to the lake to the ocean to the draws. perpetual motion, imperceptible motion.
thank you for your patience, we now return to nonsense.
this was the first time i have traveled to the trailhead in nearly a week. most of the parking lot berms have melted and the hustle and bustle of the ski season is gone, replaced by tire tracks through the mud and matted grasses where dirt gives way to forest. on the onion river road, two ski tracks head towards the north. then footprints, then ski tracks. when the mud reappears, i debate turning around but as usual, my stubborn, obsessive/compulsive determination makes a turn-around unlikely.
i have many skis like that. and many owling nights. and gardening moments. and biking treks. and hikes.
these are not new behaviors or indulgences for me.
all i know is that when i die, i hope i am doing something i enjoy. the older i get, the more i realize that deals with god or the devil or the dnr are not going to change much at this point. my finite die has been cast and i can still move and so dammit!!!…i am going to move.
this morning, there is a new blanket of white and it looks inviting and entices my compulsive behaviors like it always has, but now i am pretty sure my one last ski last night was truly, my one last ski.