My Father the Dragon

The only way to the top of the mountain is through icy trails on steep terrain.  For me, the daughter of a mountain man, the only way to the kingdom of snow, is on Dad's sled. I would never entrust myself to another rider.  Dad's agility, confidence, and years of experience make him the only candidate for this death ride.  He does not ride recklessly, though it feels as though the limits of safety are far behind--down on the roads where common folk drive.  He is one with the sled, a lone rider in freezing domains.  My father is a dragon.

 His sled is bright red, the color of blood.  It hums and roars, with open throttle.  It holds a place for me; though I am almost six feet tall, my build is slight, and I tuck nicely behind the handlebars.  To keep warm from the elements, I wear Dad's second set of riding gear.  Fleece pants, long-johns, bib snow pants, and his black Klim jacket.  My hands in ratty gloves, worn from use, grasp the round handlebars, and I tense my muscles to keep my body in place.  It is important not to allow myself to jolt straight up; this would cause my helmet to smack into my father's.  Similarly, I hold a tight brace so my face and body do not smash forward into the handlebars.  I crouch low, and sit in the center, not wanting to impede with Dad's ability to press the throttle or grab the brake.  The helmet I wear is slightly too big, so my hair and hood are tucked up inside to keep it secure.  Sometimes it slides down low, blocking the top portion of my view.  As we ride along, I am thankful for it.  Sometimes I don't want to see how freakishly steep the next climb will be until we're actually on it.  Then I tip the helmet back in place, and take it all in. 

The first time we did this was last winter, and I was in shock.  The panic, induced by the reality of possible pain due to gravity's pull in steep terrain, left me shaking and wishing it were all over.  But this time, I knew what I was getting into.  I knew it would be incredibly thrilling, a kiss of mortality, an embrace of insanity.  And I chose to go in faith.  Faith in life, faith that the things worth doing and seeing aren't always the easiest, and faith in my father's ability to carry me through. 

It's quiet up there, and the snow glistens like a thousand white sparkles in the rays of the sun.  Trees are stunted, and blown over from high winds.  Thick blankets of white crystals have made their homes on branches of bull pine, creating tree forts and figures for the imagination.  The kingdom of snow has a tower called the Crowsnest.  From this vantage point, the ocean and islands can be seen for miles.  Horizons of ridges and wilderness coastlines, stretch out like waking youth, and promise adventure as well as great mystery.  I am as high as the earth rises, on the breath of a miracle wind.  It was not easy, though it seems I had nothing to do with getting here, I did have to consent. I had to harness the fear inside me.  Panic has no place in me.  I worship one God, and every breath belongs to Him--whether in sleep, or fully awake.  It is He--Great Spirit, who destined me, to be on the top of mountains, through trails of ice.  I was born to be a witness of adventure, a seer of great visions, and the daughter of a Dragon.