Fall-Line editor Nicola Iseard on the bitter-sweetness of waiting for winter
I have the pleasure of looking at lots of photos of people’s ski trips. The majority of these shots are of big mountain lines skied by pro skiers, taken by pro photographers. Seemingly perfect pillow lines, beautiful cliff drops, face shots where only the basket of a ski pole is visible – each one bellowing
“best ski day ever”.
But these aren’t my favourite shots. Sure, these are the images that get your toes twitching, your pulse skipping, you wishing you had a teleportation device that could beam you to that exact line if only for a few seconds – but it’s the images taken in between the perfect bluebird ski days that I find most interesting. The ones where skiers are hunkered down in some mountain hut, playing cards, or mulling over maps with mugs of tea, while outside the snow falls relentlessly, piling up against the window frame, the chance of skiing tomorrow dwindling with every accumulating inch. The ‘waiting it out’ pictures.
While not all of us can relate to skiing an Alaskan spine, or dropping a 15ft cliff, we can all relate to the waiting. The waiting for the snow clouds to subside, so that the lifts can start turning once again. Or, more commonly, the waiting for the snow clouds to roll in in the first place. Or the waiting for an injury to heal.
For me, autumn is a waiting game. As the shops start filling with new ski gear, and ski magazines start dropping onto doormats, we wait for the snow to come. September, October, November. We wait.
We hope that this issue helps fill the void of these lonely autumn months, and gives you inspiration on where to go and what to do when winter rolls in. Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. And when those snowflakes finally start falling we will be ready, eager and open to new adventures and possibilities.
Taken from issue 135 of Fall-Line, out now