While skiing around Oberstdorf and struggling to capture the beauty and scale of the mountains, I discovered that some of my photos came out best in black and white. I’m no Ansel Adams, but I hope you enjoy these little snap shots as much as I enjoyed looking for them.
In case you missed the memo: I love diving. Just over a year ago, I took my first plunge, and I was hooked. After debating with myself the various theories as to why I like diving so much, I’ve narrowed it down to the neat looking, technical gear and all the cool stuff that lives in the ocean. There’s just something about being literally over your head in nature while breathing from your personal tank of air. The clear, warm waters and blazing sunshine of Indonesia didn’t hurt.
Safe to say, it has been somewhat of a jolt to go from this…
…to this.
I love Hamburg and all it has to offer by way of diverse cultures, delicious food, friendly people, international commerce, and maritime charm. But for someone who has spent the past eight years much closer to the equator, it’s sometimes hard not to get down during the damp, cold, gray winter.
Not one to admit defeat, I considered my options.
Option one: diving near Hamburg. While this would satisfy my desire for wearing some neat dive-gear, the cold, dark waters in and around Hamburg weren’t so exciting. Also, this is expensive.
Option two: flying to Indonesia. This would make both neat gear and beautiful waters available, but (while cheaper than from the U.S.), tickets to Indonesia are wildly out of my price range.
Option three: find a new hobby that includes neat, technical looking gear, lots of time outside, and is within my price range.
Enter: Cross-country skiing in Oberstdorf.
The tickets were cheap, ski-rentals were cheaper, and I had a four-day weekend calling me to the Alps. All signs pointed towards the snowy south, so I took a chance and “dove” in.
I’ve been a down-hill skier since the tender age of four, and I used to love all things winter, but I have to admit that I was a little nervous as I set out. Could I handle the cold? Despite my down-hill experience, would I be totally incompetent?
Yes, and yes.
Cross-country skiing is hard! And I was slow. Very slow. Little old ladies and eight year olds were passing me kind of slow. By the end of each day, my legs were so sore that I could barely struggle up the hill to the youth hostel. But because of all my effort and exertion, I stayed nice and warm in my layers of flannel.
More importantly, I LOVED it.
To be outside, working hard, pushing myself to meet new challenges while surrounded in some of God’s most beautiful, mountainous creation! There were moments when I just had to stop – sweating and panting – look around myself, and sigh, “Wow.”
There has been a lot of turmoil in the world as of late, and one of the things I loved about diving into the ocean’s depths was the peace and tranquility of watching sea turtles and parrot fish floating by and munching away on coral – so undisturbed by the surface and yet so inseparably connected to all of us.
This weekend, I rediscovered that same calming communion in the mountains. It is in the leafless branches and the ground sleeping beneath its covering of snow. It is in the birds singing as the sun warms their frozen trees and in the tracks of rabbits that have scurried across the fields.
We can feel it tugging at something deep inside us – like the roots of our souls are somehow connected to the roots of those mountains. It is grounding, and it is transcendent.
I discovered that the hole I was feeling in my heart in the absence of diving, was the absence of this connection. The city is exciting and engaging, but – for me – there is always a lack, something fundamental that is missing. Something found in forests and mountains, fields of snow and ocean reefs. It is to feel and to begin to comprehend that we are all a part of something much bigger, something much more alive.
Worth a Journey 