True to my promise to stay closer to home instead of burning gas on planes and outrageous mileage, I decided to do a day-trip this weekend locally to enjoy the snow. However, rather than doing the non-eco option of alpine skiing, which is actually an urban concept of getting up mountains using electric lifts, plastic tickets, diesel caterpillars, snow blowers, helicopters and fast food resort amenities, I decided on the simple option of my own sandwiches and my own legs. I struck out on 'raquettes' (snowshoes) into the fresh powder snow just 30 minutes from my house, up the slopes of the Jura.
We had about 50 cm of powder, blue skies and sunshine. I chose a route that went in the opposite direction from the cross country trails, and headed for a military zone that I knew would be deserted on Sunday. (Amazing that the army can use such a gorgeous natural reserve to launch their missiles and trash their tanks through, but hey, I guess people like to play aggressive games. Nothing eco about those guys!!) Started at 1100m and climbed up to about 1400m by snow shoe with my dog, Puccini. She alternated by trying to trailblaze (a hard job to do for a little dog in deep snow), and bouncing along behind me, in the mini-blizzard my fish shaped snowshoes made, wading in my tracks.
After a steady climb along 'forrestry' roads we were rewarded with amazing views of the Lac Leman 15 km away and 1500m below us, with my favourite peak, the Mont Blanc, standing there just asking to be photographed (again!)
As we trailed about 500m parallel to a limestone cliff face covered in glistening ice and dripping icicles, Puccini went on red alert and bristled her already bristly winter fur, pointing her nose directly up the mountain face. I heard a strange whistling and 'snorffing' sound that i thought first was a bird of prey and then a deer.
Magic! A trio of 'chevreilles' -- big, brown and black, horned mountain goats native to this region - had been traipsing along parallel to me and P, watching us and following. I realised they were 'schnarffing' at us to try to get us out of their territory. One big guy started stamping his hooves and I thought he might come down and do a number on poochie so I made her sit next to me and waited till they crossed the path and went on into the woods. It was so exciting!
After arriving back at the car, I took the now out of poochies paws and tucked her into a box and sat in the snowbank for a moment. I can't tell you how happy this sort of experience makes me feel. The biggest part of it is being silent. Elation when you can just walk alone and feel so at home in Nature without having to explain, analyse or talk. Or think with anything except your body.
Such moments reminds me the closing words my qi gong teacher, Liu feng, uses at the end of his Buddha Standing Qi Gong: "Imagine you are flying like a crane, taking your chi (energy) up to heaven. You land gently in an outstretched field. You focus on your feet. In stillness, you can feel your connection to the Earth. Look out over this untouched heaven, covered in pure, white snow." You can imagine yes, but you can also just go out there and touch it. It's real. It's right here. It was here all along. And it will be tomorrow, if we only choose to connect with it.
