John Swincinski

Downhill Journey
48 x 48 in
Downhill Journey I can feel the ice crystals forming in my beard. My heart is racing. My eyesight and mind are focused. My breathing is heavy, trying to keep enough oxygen in the blood moving through my legs. This isn’t my usual wilderness experience. And one might think that it’s unlikely that one could fine solitude in a ski resort. But it’s midweek and I’m just good enough of a skier that I can get into some of the more challenging terrain where that solitude awaits. My legs are on fire and I’m doing everything I can to let nature’s gravity do its part and take me to the bottom. I pause atop a mogul the size of VW bug and look out across the valley where the Rocky Mountains continue to rise in what seems like a never-ending cascade of peaks. The repeated journey down this mountain will sustain me and help heal my soul.