Last Chance to Dance Trance (Perhaps)
It has taken me quite some time to get around writing this post. The title is a nod to track 4 of Medeski, Martin and Wood’s album Friday Afternoon in the Universe. Chris Wood’s solo on the intro is superb. Here’s a Spotify link:
In this life where I am an Adventure Photographer (yes, capitalized), I must logically go on adventures and take photographs. So it seems, anyhow. Portfolio building and such, but also because it’s sort of my reason for existing. Perhaps.
For much of the New England snow riding community, a trip to Mt. Washington, and specifically Tuckerman Ravine, marks the end of the effective winter season. The exact date of this party tends be something of a moving target. Prime time is usually between mid April and mid March. The famously wild weather takes a breath, temperatures moderate, avalanche danger drops and the crowds turn out.
I generally prefer to avoid crowds , but unfortunately, most of my more experienced backcountry friends have moved on in some manner, and mid-winter Mount Washington is not a wise objective to take on alone (yes, some do, and some don’t come home). The spring party it is, then. On a more positive note, the camping is easier, safety assessment more straight forward and I have a more diverse selection of images to capture. So, let’s get on with it.
My trip spanned the weekend of April 22-23, beginning with a very early drive from Connecticut on Friday morning. I managed to be at the trail head and in motion by about 11:00 am. Not bad, all things considered.
I allowed myself some time to shoot a few frames on the hike up, taking about two hours to make it to the ravine proper. Photographically speaking, this is the part that I struggle with the most. I just want to get on to shooting THE THING, whatever it may be, but telling the story (visually, of course) is every bit as important as bagging that one perfect image.
People are often astonished by the heavily lopsided ratio of time spent climbing vs. descending, but I rather enjoy having so much space to roam around inside my own head. Expect another 30-45 minutes, depending on your selected route and fitness, to get to the top of the bowl. Left gully was my choice.
The weather was absolutely perfect, the snow soft and forgiving. Unfortunately, my shooting was uninspired and my riding clumsy. Severe sleep deprivation followed by intense physical exertion does not a sharp Taylor make. Once up and once down was all that I had in me that day. Despite a rather useless amount of self judgement, just getting out, on the road and in the mountains felt great.
2015 and 2016 absolutely sucked for a number of reasons. I’m not going to go into exactly why, but I full on ejected from normal life at the beginning of 2017. Some concerned folks assumed that I was going to go try to “find myself”. That sort of thing always struck me as a bunch of narcissistic naval gazing. I was really just looking to take a break and have a bit of an adventure. I pulled the classic sell/discard material possessions, move into the van, roam the earth routine. If I’m to be honest, that is more just an act of pure hedonism, in a strange sense.
I took the picture below on my birthday weekend (early June). Around that time, it was starting to sink in that I’d have to return to some kind of normal life in the near future, but my sense of normal had all but died.
I suppose some folks are able to just gleefully jump back into the mix like nothing ever happened, and to some extent, I almost envy them. However many long term travelers, thru-hikers and the like report a fairly substantial and lasting shift in thinking and being. For those exiting the corporate world, the transition is especially sharp. Going back seems nearly impossible, and the old-normal barely makes sense at a basic, logical level. I recently read one traveler’s account, likening the experience to signing up for permanent societal maladjustment. That’s a wee bit harsh, but not entirely off.
Despite the immense gravitational force pulling me elsewhere, a year and a bit later, I crash landed right back where I started. NOTHING had changed. Only me. The trick now, is to try to live life in the shoes of some other guy who had more or less vaporized on a mountain top.
Sunday’s effort began when I woke up in the back of my car around 4:15 am, having made a rather poorly conceived plan to catch sunrise from the trail somewhere. All things take longer than intended, and I made it to the trail head about an hour later. A slightly clearer head and some gorgeous morning light yielded a much more satisfying day.
Right Gully proved to be a worthy morning objective while the ravine was still quiet and relatively empty.
My legs were mostly trash and I rode with very little grace, but the snow was once again perfect and the ever enthusiastic crowd beginning to build.
Shortly thereafter, the sun was eaten by a persistent, low hanging cloud. Generally feeling my mojo again, on both sides of the lens, I managed a decent batch of texture-centric b&w images and an encore run down Hillman’s Highway.
Bagging a respectable amount of vertical on snow and a few decent images is a nice treat, but feeling reconnected with the version of myself that I strive to be was the most significant part of this experience. With heavy rain in the Sunday weather forecast, that was certainly my last dance for the winter. Regardless, but I opted to spend a second night at the Dolly Copp campground, curled up in the back of my rusty little car, just because it felt so good to be out and away. A good, hot meal, and warm bed are nice. Open road, big mountains, uncertainty and possibility keep drawing me back out.
And I guess this is about where the narratives collide.
Moody skies and soggy weather on the four hour drive home provided perfect atmosphere to explore thoughts on this. As much as I don’t always look forward to planting myself in front of the desk on Monday morning, a life of endless roaming, and permanent social detachment is not the correct path for me either. With a raft of changes and challenges on the horizon (including a big one called “parenthood”), the obvious answer is to seek balance. It sounds a bit corny when spoken aloud, and I believe that’s because it is. A better solution is to pursue a sense of momentum. Where am I now? Where am I going? Am I closer today than I was yesterday? If you’ll allow me to be an engineer about it for a second (because I am) , static equilibrium does not lead to change or action, by definition. Last week, I turned 42 and I’m not quite sure where I’m going, but I think I’m another year closer to it.
I may have once again lost the thread with this post, so it’s probably a good time to wrap it up. Here’s that one, good, trip defining image:
