Two Seconds

November 21, 2009 Mack, Mosetick, and I meet up for a day of backcountry skiing. We carpooled to Crystal Mountain and drove past the parking attendant ignoring his instructions of where to park. At the C parking lot we started the process of gearing up. Like climbing, the steps a group goes through to start a day of play begins with a lot of fussing, chattering, teasing, laughing, and general excitement. I love this part. I can go home now; I'm satisfied. I tell myself, "Just wait, it only gets better."

We start the trek up the path, meeting up with a couple of random guys and their dog. A skin track is before us and we all make our way up the trail until we reach the ridge of Bullion Basin. The snow is untouched. Mack starts a pit and we do some testing. The top five inches of the snow is our concern. We aren't that concerned and clean up the pit, finish off some gummy fish, water ourselves, and put skis back on for the first runs.

"I'll go first and then video you guys from below."

"Ha ha, you just want the first run."

"There are advantages to being the videographer."

I cut across the field to drop into my line, the turns smooth, the snow is deep, the speed right to float me through this powdery goodness. And out of no where I started hooting and cheering. I'm surprised at myself as this occurs. I come to the base of my run and I'm laughing, the wind has caused tears in my eyes. Heaven.

For those two seconds where the world goes quiet, where all my trouble, all my fear, all my worries go quiet -- all that is left is pure joy. I don't experience that very often. Usually, I'm in my routine, having fun and enjoying the moment... seldom do I have that moment of joy that rises up out of me into uncontrolled vocal excitement.

That two seconds... it's why I ski, it's why I climb.