Adventure Anonymous

by Colin Field
Hopping out of his rusted-out Toyota, boots splashing into the watery mud of the parking lot at Blue Mountain, my friend confessed:
“I’m addicted to skiing.”
And with a warm breeze rolling across our faces, the sun beating down ferociously, it was obvious that skiing was coming to an end. Sure there would be a few more raucous days of bacchanalian spring corn ripping before the snow would be gone, but if he’s truly dealing with addiction how would he cope for the next six months?
According to the all-knowing source, Wikipedia, there are different definitions of addiction. From physical to psychological dependencies these definitions all share one key element. They all describe a recurring compulsion to engage in an activity, despite harmful consequences to the individual’s health, mental state or social life.

Could my friend really be addicted to skiing? It’s good for his health, good for his mental state, and good for his social life. But unfortunately, it won’t help him finish his chores, pay his mortgage or deal with the insurance company.
A bunch of people border on the addicted around here. Kayakers who drop everything during a good thaw and rising rivers to paddle out. Climbers who are out there every day on the sun-warmed rock of Metcalfe in those glorious few weeks before the bugs appear. Kiteboarders and windsurfers who call in sick on the forecast of a blustery spring day. And mountain bikers building trails in the woods, even though they’re not sure where their next paycheck is coming from.
While activities like skiing, biking or kayaking may be the cause of a mental health day here, a high-interest loan (for gear) there, or a few disagreements with your significant other, I blindly choose to believe the good that comes from such activity will always outweigh the bad.
And sure, my friend will spend spring eyeing up small patches of snow that hold on well into April, but eventually, he’ll have to move on (or go really far south). For now there are rivers to run, crags to climb and trails to hike. And I have no doubt that by mid-spring, hopping out of that same Toyota, neoprene booties squelching in the thick mud of the roadside, he’ll say to me, “I’m addicted to kayaking.”
They say that acceptance is step one in recovery. But personally, I don’t think he has a problem.