FULL CIRCLE YODEL The author in an Alaskan state of mind in Haines, AK, circa 1998. Photo: Lee Cohen Words LEE COHEN IT’S COMING SOON. I will be returning to the infancy of my ski life, going out as I came in—a ski bum. Full circle. Well, maybe not exactly, but close. It has been one hell of a blessing to be able to make a good part of my ski life into my work as a professional photographer. At times I have to remind myself to be grateful for it. Make no mistake though, work is always going to be work—taking me further from the purity of soul skier to what at times becomes a dutiful pain in the ass. Skiing with no strings attached? Now that is way up there at the top of the absolute freedom list. Powder skiing brings us into moments where we lose and find ourselves at the same time. After I first hitchhiked to a job in Yellowstone from North Caro-lina in the summer of 1978, my buddy George and I decided to chase some notion of the idyllic ski-bum life. We camped out most of the winter and skied Arapahoe Basin in Colorado. I barely ever looked more than a few days ahead. We lived in a snow cave off the back lot for a little while until we got thrown out, and had a couple of other campsites we stayed at much longer not too far away. I had a haggard 1970 Buick LeSabre with positraction that did the trick. Looking back 40 years, I believe those beginnings led to a life of skiing. I never planned it that way, but I didn’t plan on just skiing a year or two either, or plan anything really. I was just rolling with it. Finding a career shooting ski photos factored in responsibilities, but one of these days the work element will fade away, and those carefree early days will come back into focus. Yes, I’ve been fortunate to travel and pursue photography over the years, but as the circle turns, I’ve gotten more of that down-home feeling in my bones. When I started my life as a ski bum, people picked their ski area and pretty much parked it. All this gallivanting around the world happened way less. Skiing in Little Cottonwood Canyon continues to get more populated and feels overrun at times. It’s the same thing that many ski-town locals face. During the madness I have thought it might be time to go somewhere else, but as time marches on, I am starting to think I probably can’t have it better anywhere than where I am right now. My buzz has been tainted by extended time in the ski and outdoor industry—like an overexposed photo. Shooting photos still gets me pumped, but now I get a somewhat perverse sense of satisfaction when I blow it off. It feels like I’m blowing off the man. There are times when I have even questioned the sanctity of skiing. It is such a selfish, hedonistic, feel-good endeavor, re-ally, an absurd privilege when you think about it. We skiers are damn lucky. I’m 350 degrees around. I’m old enough to draw social secu-rity. The photography element of my life is embedded and may prevent me from being a 100 percent pure ski bum again, but I think I can recapture some of the spirit finding more balance between skiing and work. Nowadays, I sometimes find different satisfaction in my best ski days—quality reigning over quantity, for example. Mega days outdoor in snow and sun and storm will always feed the soul, and sometimes I can still find the same excitement I felt as my younger self. The only constant is change, right? The wheel keeps turning. The funny thing about going full circle? It feels like you’re right back at the top. 100 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 16, Issue 4: Page 100
