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What? Thanksgiving is always an interesting time for me. I tend to eat a little differently around the holidays. I tend to shy away from others when I can. I have a tradition of skiing on Thanksgiving and Christmas mornings with my two nephews and their father. But when I see all the food and the weirdness of a holiday to celebrate gratitude gone awry, I wonder. I wonder how this has gotten so out of hand. The commercialism of it all. The commercially produced turkeys; the stuffing (where did this idea come from?); decorations?
The mere facility of walking into a grocery store and buying a turkey and throwing it in the oven is no action of gratitude. Neither are all the different ideas there are about cooking the bird. Where did the idea of stuffing yourself silly come from, I wonder. It’s a silly idea and a gluttonous behavior that only indicates indulgence, not gratitude. It shows that we’re still just takers.
We are aloof to our vulnerabilities. We are naive to assume that all is well. We are a nation living in a dream. I live in a dream. How then does one show gratitude in a Peter Pan State? I guess we could donate our fancy dinners to the millions of folks that are without. Could we make that sacrifice? Feeling hungry at the end of the day of Thanksgiving because you gave away all your food to people who feel that way at the end of everyday?
Should we do that as groups and families? What would come of it? Would we also want to give to these immigrants that have nothing but the blankets on their backs? They came to America for refuge. Sometimes they are welcomed. I’ve seen it. I’ve been part of a group that has taken warm meals to one such families. We took clothes too.
I could say all that would be incredible. And it is; it is unbelievable that we’d do that to show gratitude. If I had my way, I’d drag you all into the hills and then the deserts to show you the beauties that abound in nature. I am grateful for the life that is there. I am grateful that I can go there. I am surely grateful for the sense of wholeness I perceive when at the top of a mountain covered in snow. Without those places I don’t believe we would be able to commune with our purpose of being alive.
is to sit with coffee and begin to write. It’s the flavor and nostalgia that helps enable the flow of words onto this digital format. I mention it often. It is a good way to write.
During the winter I pursue skiing with all my passion. Waking up includes the habit of breakfast, ski clothes, and finally skiing. Everyday it’s like this and if I don’t catch myself I’m off to ski on a day that i really shouldn’t. I’ll come down early and sleep in the car when in fact I should have just stayed at home and worked on any of the many projects that I have going. Writing being one of them.
But the last week has been full of epic moments, from skiing 30″ deep pow in the Wasatch of Utah and then working with companies Marker and Volkl to spread the stoke on their brand, with which I’ve been left feeling somewhat nostalgic. So the cup of coffee is in order. And while I watch the snow melt I’m thinking about my friends in the north shredding the snow that I’ve been dreaming of all winter.
Pursuance of skiing surprised me as I’d all but given up on winter in exchange for time to ride my bike. Although winter seems to be drawing to a close forever, what with global warming and the eventual rise of global cooling.. I’ve regained a love for skiing. And I refuse to make it my job or any form of work. It is my time. Away from the bike and the shop and all its tools, I am free to reign in upon the mountains and shred the snow that in them lies.
During my days out I’ll use a variety of skis to accommodate my style for the day on whatever snow is available. I’ve skied the roughest snow on the worst days to make myself a better and stronger skier. I spend time scaring myself so that when the day comes to huck the cornice it does not go by without my accents upon it. And then when the pow day comes, the powder whores come out for a freeforall. They only ski on pow days. They don’t ski hard, iced up, balled up snow. They’re a bunch of towels. They’re soft, like their Black Diamond Skis. I ski right on by.
They also can’t ski all that well. Afraid to shred and spread the stoke they push all the snow to the bottom of the massive pow slope. And then there’s the cool dude from the east coast that used to race, on a ski break with all the dudes, killing it. And they dream of my life. My life is built on skiing. And everyday I push it harder. And I ride alone; in the glistening white of the fallen crystals surfing as it were through a dream where nothing else matters. Every turn is like the dream that soothes, every wave of snow like a moment frozen in time, all is magic and all concerns of life fall away. With days like this disappearing the memories become ever more important and intangible.
Days and weeks will go by without snow and like the weak reaching for the bread on a table that is too high, the hunger becomes all too consuming. Wonder and pain and doubt become waking thoughts; will it ever snow again? Still someone would take my roughest day on snow over their life stuck in an office. I am living a dream, making ends meet barely. I trade time for skis. I trade everything else for moments alone in the snow.
Skiing on the deepest days is what I live for. There is nothing else. And when winter ends, I search the dreams and memories for the times that I cannot bear to lose or forget.
“I once enjoyed a life, different from this, in opulence. In my younger years I would travel with friends and take pictures with them and do all the things that people do. My life was in the city with friends and family close by. It was a single cell. It was the life wrapped up nice and neat, predictable and beneficial. There was always some one to go out with for drinks or dinner. There was always a get-together at some one’s apartment or house. And sitting there with your closest friends, girlfriend in arms, and telling jokes, playing games, and eating dinner; those were special moments and you thought that no one else in the world could possibly be enjoying that same moment more than you were in that time and place.
“Those are all memories. And no one can take those from you. They become the most important part of your existence. But here’s the part that you don’t know. The part where the world around you that I now call ‘the good ole days’ all seems to fall away as if standing upon the edge of a precipice, looking down, wondering. The time arrives when you have to fake your excitement for others, hide the doubt in pictures of you with those closest to you; it’s when you start to drift away. Going out on the town becomes more of a rescue than a pleasure. It becomes this way because you start slipping.
“When your friends finally stop calling to do things and the loneliness starts to set in, the wilderness opens before your eyes. There is nothing there for you. Or so it would seem. Then like thunder rising from the dust a voice calls you to go. And finally, like me, you disappear.”
There’s a obsessive behavior in people who have no real excitement in their lives. I see it and so does the market place. I love practical purchases. Gas. My first iPhone and then iPad. A bag of fresh ground coffee. There’s a satisfying feeling of buy things I can use. I use all my ski boots. I use all my skis. I use all my bikes. I have the necessary equipment for the job.
What I find is what the market place has found: create an appetite for useless things and that’s how you create a market. I think it is interesting how many things are manufactured, distributed, and purchased that have no real relevance to our needs as a civilization. Most things seem to me frivolous. And then I look at how I live compared to the target market that all this nonsense was made for.
I live a life that has limited means and therefore all my purchases must be calculated and proper. There’s no reason to buy things that are not functional or cannot be eaten. Anything else seems to be luxurious and futile.
On the other side of the spectrum, there are entire mansions filled with memorabilia of that family’s vacations and items that were purchased there. They can surround themselves with the artifacts of their lives and adventures. It’s strangely object based, bringing something more than a memory back from a trip. And then that item sits upon a shelf, collecting dust, and is a mere representation of something that is otherwise intangible.
What I’m getting at is that it seems unlikely for us to actually make use of all that random things that don’t have a use. The concept that a table is purchased simply because it is wanted, with the objective that it fill a corner in the house doesn’t calculate for me.
I return to the point that I originally presented: the excitement that is missing from the lives of the busy is found in the adventures outside the office, homes, and resorts. For those who do not pursue adventure on a daily basis there seems to be a need to have something physical so the week of exciting moments on the river is not forgotten. For others, surrounding themselves with things they’ve purchased and have no idea why indicates a lack of adventure, a serious lack of uncertainty in their lives.
This idea has been growing inside my mind because it seems so obvious that our society indulges in frivolous activities. I return from a day of backcountry skiing with my life. I have cheated the elements again. I rappel 130 feet from the top of an arch, cheating gravity and experiencing the thrill of not knowing what could happen. Those are the moments that define me. I can’t buy a little statue that shows me how much that’s changed me. The uncertainty of stepping outside is what changes and defines.
In conclusion, the mindset needs to change from “what can I buy” and “mindless purchasing power” to “where can I go?” and “what can I do?”
Alex woke every morning to the same happy life, in Manhattan. He woke one day and somehow, through the night, something had changed. A dream maybe. But on eyes open, he felt different. So he began a journey to find what was lost, in search of something that he couldn’t have known before. He meets Charlotte, a beautifully attractive private equity manager who seems to know things that she has hidden from herself about the natural world in pursuit of her career. They become fast friends and their paths merge several times before the end. Alex eventually alienates his long time love, in part because she just can’t understand what’s happened and where life has begun to lead him.
Alex’s story is like all of us. We wander through life wondering what purpose we have until we reach a true land of desolation, a place where water is scarce and in every way is a landscape modeled after our own emotional and psychological desolation. Alex falls out of love, into another love, and then another. Charlotte eventually follows the call of a different life. When Alex and Charlotte meet years later they run away together.
While all this is happening an old man wanders through the deserts of Utah having left a life behind. As he returns to the world he left behind, he discovers that his mother is dying and that his old father died while in search of him. When search and rescue found his body he was face down next to a spring. When they returned the body to his mother she fell ill and was slowly dying. And this old, wandering soul has to face her. And in a short time she passes. He returns to his wilderness and comes across a couple out in the wild. They said they’d come from New York and that they would die before they went back.
(I’m writing this story. if you like the concept, please leave some feedback for me. I’d love ideas too!)
In the darkness of camp, among the junipers and sand, we had a fire which burned hotter and hotter in the chilling air. It was our light and our warmth. There, in the middle of the desert it was the comfort that we had in the dark of the night and the cold of the coming season.
But despite the calmness and the soothing peace of a fire there in the middle of the desert my friend couldn’t leave her life behind. We were in range of cell phone service and that meant she could check Facebook and listen to her music. While I wasn’t greatly annoyed by this I was awakened to the increasing need for distraction among the living because our lives, as odd as it seems, don’t seem to interest us without the prolific use of our gadgets to stay “connected,” as it were.
I like being connected as much as the next person but I have absolutely no inclination to tell the world what I’m up to when I’m out and about, tramping around the wild places of our small planet. Maybe when I’m done. No one seems terribly interested in my adventures and that’s ok. There are some of you who will benefit from them as you finally open your minds to a non-civilized life of mindless wandering. People are interested in going to parties in Vegas. I’m interested in the empty and abandoned towns that are the iconic wild west.
When you’re out there, leave your world behind. Find peace in the stillness of wilderness. Find your stillness. Realize there is no need nor urgency to be part of the civilization that breeds headaches, smog, and insurrection. Friends will be home when you’re home. They’re always there. Live in the moment around the fire. There’s no need for games, phones, or discomfort. Share stories and read stories. Wonder. Become part of the world you’re in.
I just finished reading a book by Kurt Vonnegut: A man without a country. I’ve never read anything by him before and I’m kind of happy to have an author to add to my list of preferred reads. I feel that what Vonnegut has to say is useful and thought provoking. When you read the lines in this book you start to see the image of the man that has thought near too deeply about what is going on in this country that has led us all to a state of fear, under-education, and indifference.
It is true, for the world does live in fear; fear of war, death, illness, injury, confrontation, scarcity, and so on. That fear is used by the powers that be to influence the direction of the labor force. If I am afraid of death I won’t go too far from home and if I am scared of injury I won’t leave the house except to go to work or get food, and other essentials. If I am afraid of confrontation I won’t talk to new people. If I am all of this, then I won’t have a reason to do anything but work.
If that is my life then I have turned myself into a slave of the machine of economics. If I do nothing but work then I have no life of my own. If, then, all of this is true, then I have given myself over to the designers of this system. They are who they are, maybe the super powers of the economic system. Control by fear is a theory put forth by anarchists and others. But this is not new. Societies have risen and fallen and all have had this issue.
When the few take power among the many, the few control the many and then populations of the earth are grieved with the burden of survival and driven to action by fear. Clouded by fear of loss of everything a society can be driven like cattle to the bidding of the cattlemen.
I grew up in a resort town called Park City. It was around the time of my birth that I discovered I was alive. It was the strangest thing. Also, my mom discovered that she was a mom again and things changed for us both. I went from not to living and breathing and mom went to work to feed two. And she did it well. She took great care of me. Thanks mom!
So this little resort town became that around the time I was born. It had formerly been a mining town with an elaborate complex of mine tunnels that were dug so deep and so extensively that they crossed paths and as a result lawsuits ensued. As the price of silver declined so did the highlife of mining and the people started to leave, which is what happens to towns when the work disappears. Slowly the ski lifestyle was catching on and then it became a full one ski resort town with 3 ski areas in such close proximity to each other that they’ll one day connect with no effort.
In this town people don’t mine for a living anymore. They live to play and work to play. They make a good living. But most don’t fall into that category that me and mom did. So, growing up in a resort town I ended up learning about life outside and found mountain biking on my own by the age of 14 or something. I’ve been at it since. As a result of this I started to learn to work on bikes and have been working in the cycling business off and on until 2009 when I decided it was the career for me.
This takes me places. This year I went to Vegas to the bike tradeshow called Interbike. There we had an interestingly unique experience as VIPs at the Mandalay Bay. I met gorgeous women, what runs Vegas by the way. I found it amazing and the glamour was exceptional. And you get to thinking that they live this way to enjoy themselves like the girls of Park City, who are equally attractive. But the story is different.
In talking with them, I found that some were parents and some were just in love with the most interesting story. They weren’t there to be glamour models. They’re there to get through life the best way they know how. In Vegas, the means are different, and so are the ends, than you’d expect. I was impressed.
The society of America is very much self indulgent but what I found in Vegas, the host city to whatever debauchery you can think of, was full of people just trying to have a normal life. For some reason, that’s not what I’d imagined.
Inside the man there is wilderness and the only home he’ll ever know is the love he finds in this life.
Human nature is consistent at least. Human nature is survival. Do what is necessary, find food and shelter. In today’s society that means get a job, find a room to rent, and live some kind of social existence. I believe that it used to be different and more along the lines of: find good earth, plant a crop, build a home, feed your family, and make a few honest friends. We now buy food at the market because somebody else grows it or makes it. Most food doesn’t seem to come out of the earth as much as it does cans, bags, and boxes. With a sustenance like that, who needs to stay in the country and grow food?
We now rent a room or buy a house close to where we work. Most people seem to work in fields of industrial complexes and maybe in cubicles too rather than in the fields of golden wheat. The new social existence is much like Rome. You go from the edge of your new metropolitan life and deeper into the city for a ball game or a concert where there are other people of the same life as you, starving for something of flavor, something new, but finding the same thing as everyone else finds there: some instrumental sounds, some vocals, and an anomaly of artificial structures.
This is the end of the small town. There will be a few that remain, of course. I live in Heber, Utah, for now. But I don’t believe I will ever return to a city. This is why some of these towns will have a place forever. But to understand what is happening, please see this KSL.com article.
middle of the day, a state highway is main street and nothing passes here
It used to be that the small towns that were left for ruin were old mining towns in mountain or desert places. I have a fascination with these and the mystery of their history. Here’s a photo of one. This picture is Eureka, Utah. This is half a ghost town, to use the words of Utah Phillips.
And there are a lot of towns like this. They are dead mining towns, all over the west. They’re everywhere in Nevada. The ones lucky enough to be along a highway are kept on life support as the oldest of the old hold on to a dream that life might returns here. The towns off the beaten path are forgotten and in most cases shoved into the annals of written logs, disappeared forever as the government destroys them because they’re a safety hazard in the effort to create jobs for the underclasses.
Miners left as the rich ore played out. The larger mining companies would come in and control everything anyway. This left nothing for the man, only for the machine of progress. Now, as the next phase of ghost town production enters, we have a new breed but the same old equation. The local, small farmers are bought out by the mega machine of agriculture and live stock leaving no reason to stay in the countryside creating a life. The children of the farmers leave for better opportunity in the city, forsaking all that is good.
As the parents who stay behind in the small farming towns die off and the children seldom return, the ghosts fill the voids and most of America will be left in the shadows, slowly falling to ash.
As the small town life is forgotten another piece of America dies. As the metropolitan life grows and the city sprawls people forget about the value of open skies, clean air, faceless deserts, and rocky mountains and there is no protecting them anymore. The ghost town of the miners spells the equation. We only have to look at the history to see what happens next. It is a sad moment in time for me.
I was reading the new this morning about the man, Eric Robinson. He’s currently 64 years old, 5’7″, and lost in the Uintah mountains, being now 6 days overdue.. Here’s the article, KSL.com. His wife comes on the video and seems somewhat calm about this all, probably because Eric hikes all over the world. That’s a pretty good life: walking down trails, finding the way, seeing the earth as an explorer would. He always comes back.
The Uintah range foothills are right out my back door. He’s out in the area of Kings peak from what I understand. It’s a big range. It’s not like the Eastern Sierra’s of California, but it big enough. It’s a place that is shrouded in old mysteries and Native Folklore. And, as sad as it seems, he may be gone for good. At some point men decide it is their time to move on. And a man like this, well, why would he let himself pass on to the next life whilst idle in an arm chair?
Edward Abbey once wrote about finding a dead man out in the Canyonlands park. He wrote romantically about the man and said that if there was a way to go out, why not just find a good rock and wait there to die? Sounds good to me. I feel for his wife. I wish the little lady the best in this search. If I had time I’d go out there to look with everyone else. But some of us are stuck in the distance and some of us know, also, that the place is big and should a man decide it’s his time, then maybe it is.
Bon Courage, Eric!!
No Name Trail 