I am a skier

Rarely is there a sport that transcends society; both its law’s and belief’s.  Skiing seems to unite people in such a way.

The way that a police officer gives directions to the ski area while ignoring your severe speeding offence.  The way the border guard lets you pass through with skis he knows are brand new, just because it’s snowing in Whistler.

Having a ski patrol sit on the chair lift with you, never saying a single word; he knows it was you that just put tracks down that fast, fluid permanently closed area.  He can’t take your pass for something he has been eyeing up for years.

Never is a word mentioned of faith or religion on a powder day.  All faiths and cultures are intertwined in the mountains.  Christians are welcomed in Iran, just as atheists are welcomed in Argentina.

Localism is a factor in skiing, much like surfing.  But unlike a surf break, the mountains are endless and the chance for expression limitless.  Each face can be skied in a variety of ways, none better than the other, for years to come.  Once a wave hits shore, it is gone.

On even the most epic days, you will be reminded that “You should have been here yesterday” by any local.  It is the skier’s duty to inform the newcomer that the search for the perfect day has not ended.  The snow was deeper, the sky bluer in the past.

The search for the perfect snow, the perfect line, the perfect day is endless, but on rare occasions you are commended for your efforts.  Thirty seven hours of travel may be rewarded with a meter of powder; a long hike may present an untouched aspect.

Skis act as a passport in our world; integrating you into foreign communities, building lifelong friendships and giving purpose to life itself.  Become a skier; Travel with skis.

I am a skier.