What is the love that brings you to the mountains?

I’ve been trying to frame my own answer to this great TGR thread. It’s so hard to put what I feel into words.

To put it simply, the mountains are where I feel free. They are the spaces where anything is possible.

But there’s more to it than that. In the mountains all bullshit falls away, and the ragged edges and contusions left by the pummeling stress of making your way in the urban world begin to heal. ¬†They have no space or time for falsehoods, lies, or pretenses. Unlike cities, they don’t need people to give them meaning; they simply are, whether we are there or not. They are about simplicity and truth, stripping away everything that’s needless to leave an absolute clarity of thought and purpose.

Mountains are the natural world at its most raw and its most captivating. Jagged peaks, endless fields of snow and ice, broken rocks at the edge of the sky. Glimpses of a time when the earth was wilder.

And when we ski, we’re dancing with the mountain. Skiing is about taking that wildness and that freedom and all of that raw energy and power and riding it like one endless wave down from the sky. It’s about leaving the world behind and finding a space where the only things that matter are the speed and the snow and our mastery of our own bodies. It’s an intoxicating mix of adrenalin and beauty that leaves us hopelessly obsessed and hungry for more.

Mountains put the world, and the ripple of my own very tiny path in it, into perspective. In them I live for the current moment, am absorbed entirely in the beauty around me, and feel complete.

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