There is an approach to the Mine Dumps that I've discovered, and likely you have too. It's different than a top to bottom approach. It's a bit like working the Face, but instead of down and to the right, it's down slightly and then way to the left. Instead of swooping around the big pine trees toward the Meadow on the Face, it's about cutting across the open sections of the Dumps and then diving into the stands of aspen trees in between the runs. There is much tricky navigation to be done in the trees, but with repetition, one learns where the welcoming open spaces are. There are also mine pits and holes to avoid, vestiges of man's quest to pull riches from the earth, but soon a pattern emerges that allows for a few turns here and there through untrammeled snow in between the tall trees. And there are these moments that come from pausing, and scanning the horizon, that bring contemplative peace while just standing there, deeply tucked into the aspen forest. The diagonal approach to the Dump runs has served me well through the years, and as I was running today through the photos of this early winter, this particular photo of the Dumps caught my eye. The spacing of the aspen trees on the open slope, carefully left by Zen trail cutters of old, brought me a moment's peace. For while I gave up March 2010 in Aspen for a world devoid of aspen trees and snow, in exchange for the potential benefits of experience and education, the poetry of those trees, set on their hillside, seems more appealing, and just right, than ever.
