(From mid-February 2018)

Sitting, looking out a four-paned window at two rivers, the Methow and the Chewuch. Late winter sky – gray with brightness – and the sun coming through in a wheel of rays. Up valley a storm, dark and brooding. Snow clouds obscure Gardner Mountain, all the way down its shoulder.

I have been skiing a lot lately – all Nordic skiing on the largest groomed trail system in North America, right here in our valley. Today I skied to town from home, a little over 9 km (5.4 miles) in thirty minutes or so and immediately ran into friends. I love small towns, where everyone knows nearly everyone else. No anonymity here, but also a place where fame can turn to infamy if you aren’t careful. This means I must be responsible rather than reactive.


Yesterday I skied with a couple of friends. We took off from the Gunn Ranch trailhead, contouring up the mountain-side and on into a forested nook to a couple of backcountry huts. Covered approximately 15 km (9-10 miles). Gorgeous, fun skiing with good people and a wonderful dog. Spectacular views of the North Cascades mountains under a bluebird sky.

Back a few weeks ago now, my friend John from Vancouver and I skied from Mazama to Winthrop, which is over 31 km or more than 19 miles on a groomed Nordic ski trails. John and I pushed ourselves and it took us 3 hours and 5 minutes. We arrived at the Winthrop trailhead, worn out and happy. I immediately started talking with some other folks and found out that they had just done the same thing. Cool, I thought. Then I found out they did it in the same amount of time as us, and noticed that they were much older than John and I. My ego deflated instantly. Bummer. Then I thought, “This means that I might be able to do this too when I am in my 60s or 70s.” Cool! All these vacillating thoughts occurred in an instant. Oh, how the ego-mind does go and take me with it!

I am very grateful for all this skiing and don’t want winter to end just yet. These ski trails along with alpine skiing of all kinds makes this such a wonderful place to live. And I feel both the need to take advantage of this, this being one of the reasons we choose to live here, and the guilt of being able to do something so unnecessary when so many are struggling to survive. I recognize the privilege that I have and carry around with me (the so-called “Invisible Knapsack”), which allows me to live a life that includes Nordic skiing several times a week in winter, and am appreciative of it. Sometimes I feel guilt associated with it, but more often I feel the responsibility that comes with it. How do I use this privilege? How grateful am I for what it allows? How much understanding of and respect for others do I engender?

by David LaFever


2 thoughts on “Privilege

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