Evolution

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Times change, that’s the only surety in life. Things start one way and end up another. They morph, mutate, evolve. Following only the path of opportunity. Sometimes its good, sometimes it dead-ends in disaster. You can’t know. It’s a law of the universe and you go with the flow.

I’m explaining this to photographer Blake Jorgenson, but I don’t know why. Maybe to keep him interested, which will, theoretically, keep him awake. We’re seven hours into this trip, with 35 Tim Hortons and the Olympic insanity of the lower mainland in the rearview, an insanity that will, as an offi cial IOC shooter, be Blake’s manic reality in a few short days. But for now its languishing behind—though you’d never know from his Basset Hound countenance and the barking cough that have me wondering whether I should take the wheel and drive him directly to an emergency ward. Except we’re in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere and the nearest ER is a re-run on TV in the gas station where our truck is idling in the February blackness, waiting for the cat driver from Mustang Powder to show us the way into these mountains.

It’ll all work out, I tell Blake. We’ll get there. You’ll eventually be OK. And all this evolution stuff I’m telling you? It’ll make sense. Soon.

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ORIGINALLY FEATURED IN SBC SKIER MAGAZINE - TO VIEW THE FULL ARTICLE IN ALL IT'S GLORY, HEAD OVER TO WWW.SBCSKIER.COM | AUTHOR: LESLIE ANTHONY | PHOTO: BLAKE JORGENSON | ISSUE 10.1

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