Whose Thoughts
If my camera hadn’t died of cold, I would have inserted a picture of the end of the tracks here. They end and there is evidence of the frustrated turnaround. Following this skier off into the back-country, I discovered their trail went nowhere. Picked it up when I’d gotten lost myself.
With the four inches of snow I had brought with me added to the several inches already down, tree skiing was a viable option to the trail system in the refuge. I decided upon a ‘shortcut’ off the trail to bring me out onto the pipeline to Weiss Knob. I leapt off the trail, gravity aiding me at first on the descent, so I had no trouble navigating through beech and balsam. To my left an open field beckoned. I could hear Julie Andrews singing.
Twenty minutes later she shut up. I was mired in a wintry quicksand. Between the six inches of frozen precipitation and the low bushy undergrowth, I had managed not only to get lost in the fog and falling snow, but had my skis entangled in so much underbrush, I couldn’t lift my legs. I remembered my own advice to others. “When in doubt, get your water out.” I reached into my pack and had a hydrating break.
Beautiful part about skiing is you can always backtrack. The adventurer in me balked at this cowardice and that is when I noticed the other tracks some twenty feet or so away. If I could get my two weighted-down planks out of the tentacle-grasp of these little bushes enough to get over to them, I could ride on the other guy’s work.
It was such a relief to hit the other tracks and move through an area of such beauty as if I were on a conveyor belt. I wondered who the first-tracker was. Tracks don’t tell you gender, age, sexual preference, religion, or political affiliation. What these tracks tell me is this person doesn’t mind hard work and is not easily frustrated. I knew whoever it was had gone further in the underbrush than I could stand. Would I meet them on their way back? Where would this trail wind up? I skated along happily and had my answer after fifteen blissful minutes of gliding, when I hit the terminus of their explorations. This person is a human being just like me. There is no shame in backtracking after all.
Whoever you were, I thank you first-tracker for giving me a good ride. When you blindly follow someone, who knows where you’ll end up. Be careful whose tracks you follow.