Back Country Free Style
My daughter is two months old.
We - P, S and me - travel to Hokkaido day after she receives first passport.
Flights booked, cancelled, uncancelled, rebooked.
Six hours on the phone to Japan Airlines, a fourteen-hour flight.
They say it’s fine to travel with a baby when so small.
Two, three months. The length of time he spent in hospital.
Cole Richardson.
PROFESSIONAL SKIER CRASHES INTO TREE, ORGANS EXPLODE.
Headline reads.
Cole is twenty something.
Canadian all-ski family.
Dad, mum, sister.
She's a downhill skier.
And Cole
BACK COUNTRY FREE STYLE SKIER
he proudly tells me.
Negative ten degrees celsius. Feels colder.
MOST SNOWFALL OF ANY CITY IN THE WORLD.
BLIZZARD UPON ARRIVAL.
Cole and Yasu on the other side waving.
Jake’s flight cancelled. Deluge of snow. A recurring feature.
Yasu with partner and daughter. Pick up the van at the rental.
P & S wait in ARRIVALS.
After eighteen hours of travel, Lawson. Instant noodles.
The hills are unremarkable in height.
The hills are impressive in their similarity.
Twiggy little trees everywhere. Snow-blasted.
There’s something melancholic about this landscape.
No sharp edges. Soft smooth bevels.
S & P stuck inside.
THE DORMY INN OTARU.
Are we in Japan?
Retelling Cole’s story.
What is most interesting?
What’s he seen? What’s he lived?
A near death experience. Do all skiers have those?
Shooting slow. Snow, snow.
Sleep scarce as S interrupts.
Yasu’s technique. Onsen over shuteye.
He sleeps two hours.
Hot and cold baths stimulate muscle recovery.
Sapporo. Let’s walk around.
A reflection, a bit of broken fence, a vending machine.
Fentanyl come-down dream.
Ski clips.
That’s what he wants.
He writes graffiti in a sketchbook, on the streets.
He takes pictures on his point-and-shoot and he talks.
Talks about moving to New York.
We meet the surgeon who saved his life.
The surgeon who saved his life.
The surgeon skis.
The surgeon who skis saved his life.
The skiing surgeon saved the skier’s life.
We ski couple pistes.
We chat. We interview him.
Surgeons save lives.
Miracle, miracle.
Sleep still scarce.
How is P feeling? What are they up to?
My bag too heavy.
My boots too loose. Stop complaining. I lose a ski.
Icy crust, blue, blue, blasted blasted snow.
Lose it again.
Skiing in the backcountry, slow.
Bootpacking. Hitting jumps. Technical. traverse.
We look for the tree. Does it matter?
We don’t find it. Not the exact one. Slide past.
Onze. Full of snowboarders beyond baggy clothing.
Dudes and chicks.
Bulletproof ice slope.
Cole lets off fireworks by the sea.
We go to the aquarium.
Cole likes S and P. Finds them comforting.
I ask about his parents.
Am I a parent?
We put S in ski boots.
It’s snowing again, and again.
Big wet clumps of the stuff.