RIVER & SKIS

The Isolation blues;

reflections during covid-19

backwoods transportation (2022)

I’ve been waiting patiently for the river to freeze-up and with the recent temps consistently in negative numbers it is a fait accompli. Although skiing and snowshoeing on a winter river can be a bit un-nerving (it’s always nice to know where the deep holes are), the benefits of traveling on a perfectly flat trail winding its way through solitary and scenic landscape is not to be under-stated. This frozen riparian highway is also frequented by other winter travellers looking for an easier route than trudging through deep snow in the woods. One of the advantages of being on a quiet mode of transportation is that it allows you to blend in along with the rest of nature. The cabin sits half-way between two significant bridges that cross the north branch of the Meduxnekeag River. This gives me two basic choices for my morning ski; heading upstream a half mile is the old B&A railroad trestle now part of the I-83 snowmobile system, and heading downstream half a mile is the US Route One bridge in downtown Monticello. Today, for my first ski on the river in winter ’22 I decide to head downstream and reintroduce myself to this place I love. Here is something I found in one of my old files, something I wrote years ago which makes for a good backwoods ski exercise. If you have skis or snowshoes get out on the trail everyone!

No Gaps

Walking out my front door first thing in the morning
I am encountered by everything that is right there waiting for me -
sky, snow, and a couple of dogs underfoot.

I don’t need to bring along anything extra inside my head,
they are just leftovers from yesterday
or some scattered recollections from 1985 still clunking around.

The idea of zen practice is to cut down on the mental paraphernalia.
But my too-eager thinking brain can hardly hold itself back,
and if I’m not careful, I could be half-way down the trail 
before I even notice the crunch of granular snow beneath my ski 
or feel the single-digit cold on my face.

My mind could be practically anywhere at a time like that;
on a warm, sandy beach in the Caribbean
or just trying to figure out what to cook for supper that night.

But what makes the most sense, 
is for my mind to be right between my shoulders -
about five feet above my skis. This is known as having no gap 
between your head and your skis.

It’s the same as having no gap between you 
and the chickadee sitting in the snow-capped pine
or to walk on the frozen stream as one’s own body and mind.

It is to have no gap between one’s interior self 
and the ten thousand things.
No gap between you and me.
No gap between the here and the now

and here we are...
US Route One bridge in Monticello (01.18.22)

In the woods, 


Dave

January 20, 2022

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