A Journal of Movement
Little Cottonwood Canyon. Highway 210. Alta.
The road climbs slowly at first, to a small bench above the valley floor. For a moment the trees and houses drop away and you can turn and soak in the sea of humanity. More often than not a dark haze obscures your view, the result of the transportation and industry of some 2.2 million people inhabiting the valley. Ahead, the road turns into the canyon, disappearing between the gleaming granite walls.
Winters, for me, have always been a practice in hibernation. Not in the most literal sense, and I haven’t always seen things this way, but as my time here continues to unfold and my views and values continue to evolve, it’s easy to see how the seasons affect many changes in my life. My food, sleep, work, my mobility, my drive, and so much more, all are grounded and shaped by the colder months, where and how I spend them. This year marks the ninth winter season I’ve come to Alta, Utah. Each of these seasons has seen progression, regression, evolution and expansion. I’ve loved, learned, limped, and continued to move forward. While I’ve never had a vehicle with me for any of my winters here, it’s only been since 2008 that I haven’t owned a car year round, and only in the last two years that I’ve truly embraced the bike. This season makes the second winter of Nature of Motion, and it’s interesting to see the hint of a pattern here. Winter is truly a time for introversion, a time for reflection and renewal. As I look back, look forward, and look inward, I continue to notice new things, re-connect with the familiar, and find my creative spark to progress. It’s easy to look to the side of the screen and see the pattern, the abundance of posts and activity in the summer months, and the scarcity in the winter. Granted, there’s been a lot more than just my change in transportation in these last few years, but I think that reflects a lot of what goes on behind the scenes. Recently, I’ve been thinking and journaling a lot about this topic, this sort of seasonality and localism that plays on my life each winter. March is usually when I start to wake up and dig myself out from the haze of the winter, it’s also the month of my birth, so it’s a pretty appropriate time to be reflecting inward on my progress and position. A little over a year ago I wrote a piece on this subject entitled A Case for Place. Here now with a year gone by and I find myself in the same place, thinking along the same lines. But what do I have to add? What have I learned or how have a grown? I find it helpful to look back first, to gain some of this perspective of time and place, so before I spewed out all the nonsense below I took a minute to read the original piece, if you’ve got a minute, and think it’d help you too, check it out here. Enjoy.
I haven’t been cycling in months. Although this might come as some sort of sad irony in light of this blog being born from bicycle-powered adventure, I’m not really that broken up about it. Sure, I miss the bike, and those long warm rides in the mountains, but I miss it like I miss asparagus or basil, those ephemeral staples of spring and summer that might be short lived, but they have a time, and will be back next season. For now I’m loving the winter, the numbing cold, the short days parenthesized by extended darkness, the styrofoam crunch of snow under my skis, and the unparalleled beauty of the play of light on mountains dressed in white. I’m embracing the winter for what it is: now. Continue reading “A Case for Place”
Winter is here. Although the millions of people just a dozen miles away might disagree as they play golf, go for a climb, or walk in the park with 60 degree temps, up here in Alta, there’s snow everywhere, icicles are forming, and I’m skiing every day. Sure feels like winter. In reality the shift is much more of a mental one in which I’d rather go for a ski tour, or find a half frozen runnel of water to climb then catch a ride to the valley to try and climb a few pitches in the sun or play a round of disc golf. I guess my point is, it’s winter in the mountains, and that’s where I live. But my intentions aren’t just to give you some sort of over generalized weather forecast but to give you all who’ve been following along a heads up on what this change of seasons, and change of locations means for the Nature of Motion, and what you might expect to find here in the coming months. Continue reading “Progression”