The mountain

Meribel, France

Human infrastructure installed to conquer nature. The huge silence broken only by the whir of chairlifts. The endless jagged peaks. The smooth snow coating the mountains like icing finished with a spatula. The long views, the fresh crisp air. The wheeling, tweeting birds. An inhospitable location tamed by pylons and steel cables. Thousands of tons of metal to facilitate the pursuit of pleasure. I call on Mum to help me focus on my technique to tackle the slopes. Fast and smooth, my head is empty and my body flows. Remembering to overcome the natural inclination and lean forward. Embrace gravity. Learners block the way with wide slow turns. Experts cause turbulence with high-speed close shaves. Concentrate.

The mountain and I.

I am nothing and the mountain lasts. Reassuring me that I am insignificant and my problems matter little. In the cold, wide space where the air is clear I bid farewell to mental clutter. Embrace speed and freedom. I am thankful for the ancient churning of the Earth that threw up these rocky spires. A fearful place made playground by the hand of man.

If the lifts stop running and the people stop coming. The snow will still fall on the towers of these castles in the sky. Battlements still battered by fierce winds and bathed by the light of a strong sun. We are nothing compared to changes that take place over millennia. Meditate on that and may it lend your life some calm. Easier said than done. I am still annoyed about the broken washing machine.

The pylons, unused and neglected, rust and crack. Steel cables sag and snap like twigs to lie useless on the rocks. The dead hair of a metal monster. Nature reclaims her space with an irresistible will. Our grand designs are flicked aside like a giant playing Subbuteo.

When Spring comes, to see Winter’s icy blanket gone, the mountain bursts to life. Green shoots and animals with new song, spreading from the valley to the tips of the awesome crown. The mountain still stands; a silent witness to the passing of ages.