Pilgrimage to the Promised Land
Oh, East Peak, where do I even begin? You came to me in a dream: a powder paradise, endless glades, perfect pitch, turns in infinitum. I never thought such a fair damsel existed in the rugged Cascade Kingdom. I heard rumors of your beauty, whisperings of a neverland in the far south. Who knows – maybe I am in a dream and will someday wake up from your wintry trance. But if it is the case, let me never wake! Let me sleep at your toes and feast in your gut! Oh, how you make my dreams come true!
Oh, East Peak, you appeal to the most primal of my powder desires. Your pleasure is simple – a white cloud here, a face shot there. You awaken the stirrings in my thighs with a single glance. The passion I feel for you is raw and visceral – like a drug, a continuous dose of white crystals. Your touch is like a kaleidoscope of sensations – flying, floating, falling. You take me to the top of the mountain and into the sky. Oh, how you get me so high!
Oh, East Peak, I hate to call you “basic”, but I mean it in the best way possible. You are the lowest of low hanging fruit, vert-on-sale, buy-one-get-one-free. You pad my Strava stats, turning meager men into Vert Gods. You give me the legs of a stallion, the flight of a spread eagle, and the quickness of a snow gazelle. Round after round, lap after lap, turn after turn, you always find one more within me. Oh, how you make me feel so young!
Oh, East Peak, how do you always go blue? While the plebeians across the valley remain shrouded in a wintry haze, the heavens open above and shine on your gentle slopes! Ullr himself has chosen you! You are the chosen one! In the land of eternal clouds and rain, you are the reason we maintain hope through these dark days. They say your light was granted in the shadow of the Mother Mountain, but believe me, you live in the shadow of none in my heart. Oh, how you brighten my life!
Oh, East Peak, I know there have been bumps in the snow. I was angered when you claimed my new skis as sacrifice, but I forgave you. You tested my faithfulness by raining at the base and rewarded me with powder above. You knocked me down with your westerly winds, but relinquished with waist deep blower. Each trial made us stronger. I learned to feel your moods – how the vestiges of previous relationships had ripped your skin raw, where the healing had finally started to bring you stability, and where the scars of great fires from ages past remain. There is so much more to you than meets the eye, and I have grown to love all of your aspects. Oh, how you have a depth that I never foresaw!
Oh, East Peak, how do I say this? It’s not you, it’s me. You know how they say the grass is always greener on the other side? It is like a disease, first invading my ski tips, now poisoning the glue beneath my skins. What we have, it is so beautiful, but we cannot have it forever. Attachment is the fear of loss. Detachment is the fear of attachment. But you shall feel neither. Seasons change, and I have to move on. Men may grow old and grey, but you, my dear, are forever young, beautiful in your white veil. While the charred trunks on your flanks stand unchanged through the years like graveyard headstones, generations will pass you by. I am transient; you cannot love me forever. But our love, it is forever. Don’t you forget that. Long after I go, you will have these words, little pieces of my heart, forever blowing in the snow.