“Denali as Seen from the Root Canal,” acrylic on canvas. Original painting by Leighan Falley. IT’S DIFFICULT TO SEPARATE Leighan’s identity as an art-ist from her identity as a skier—the spiritual connection that she nourishes in the mountains was first fed as a young girl, painting mountain scenes and eagles taking flight. Painting now serves as an escape from her bustling life in and around those mountains, and also as a connection she can cultivate from the comfort of home. Leighan’s artistic worldview has a strong influence on her time in the mountains; as much as she seeks quality ski terrain, she also looks for dramatic imagery. In flight, she peers intently around each bend, surveying the composition of the landscape, pulling her phone out for a photo if the lighting or view is particularly striking. Many of these images become references for Leighan’s paintings, which depict ethereal mountain scenes. “[Ski flying] has a directly symbiotic relationship with my art,” she explains. “And the coolest thing is, on a beautiful day, I get to feel like I’m flying around in one of my paintings.” On the glacier, we shovel soft powder from underneath the plane’s skis to prevent too much settlement. The Pacer’s black exterior is striking against the brilliance of the snow. The color sym-bolizes the Raven, and the tail numbers—hand-painted by Leighan in turquoise—represent the ice and glaciers she soars above. Leighan breaks trail as the plane shrinks from view. Denali, Beg-guya and Sultana loom in the distance. The golden morning molts into a glaring afternoon and the snow begins to transform, sticking to our skins. Leighan is as comfortable here as she is in the air, blazing uphill at an impressive clip despite her heavy metal touring gear. Her powder skis, handed down by Michelle Parker after Leighan flew Michelle’s crew into the range, still sport a Red Bull sticker. We only have time for a single lap as the sun works quickly to turn tantalizing powder into gluey mashed potatoes. Leighan prepares me for the full ski-flying experience as we skin back to the plane. “I think we should stomp in a runway,” she says apologeti-cally, laughing about our misfortune. We strip off our layers and skin up and down the glacier for an hour, swapping ski stories and sweating in the March sun. A few planes buzz overhead—Leighan’s colleagues shuttling tourists out toward Denali. They each dip a wing to wave hello, the black plane easily recognizable next to a pair of fresh downhill ski tracks. A bit more shoveling and we’re ready for takeoff. Back in the cockpit, Leighan explains that she will bail if we’re not off the ground by mid-glacier. She starts the engine and the Pacer rumbles to life. Moments later we leave the ground, gliding seamlessly from snow to sky. 082 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 16, Issue 2: Page 82
