Evoking the sophist Protagoras, in the mountains, we, as skiers, are the measure of all things (Homo omnium rerum mensura est). This phrase can be considered an individual and contingent sensation.
In the context of skiing, it suggests that the mountain has no objective scale or difficulty until a human interacts with it. Our skiing reality is only measured by our transitory individuality, as the state of our knowledge is tied to the evolution of our daily skiing.
Protagoras invites us to consider everything that happens around us when we ski. His phrase refers to our status as skiers confronted with the environment surrounding us, which encompasses both being and non-being as a relation of measurement.
The Subjective Alpine Reality
The mountain, in its raw geological state, is indifferent. It possesses no “steepness,” no “danger,” and no “beauty” in the absence of a witness. It is only through our presence that the mountain is transformed from a static mass of rock and ice into a meaningful landscape. As the measure of the entire mountain, we provide the scale, the rhythm, and the moral value to the terrain.
The Protagorean Slope: Scale and Difficulty
Difficulty is not an inherent property of a slope; it is a relationship between the terrain and our capability.
As the relativity of terrain, for the novice, a gentle incline is a precipice of anguish. For the expert, the same incline is a horizontal void.
In the measure of space, the “entirety” of the mountain is defined by our reach. A mountain is only as large as our endurance and only as steep as our courage. Thus, we do not merely navigate the mountain; we define its dimensions through our movements.
As skiers, we define our skiing reality by marking the boundaries of the mountain and its contour: the high and the low, the wide and the narrow, the near and the far. We have to make it clear that we are not the ones who measure, but that the measure is our own.
The Lived Body and the Tool
Following the phenomenology of Maurice Merleau-Ponty, our equipment (the skis) becomes an extension of the “lived body.”
At the merging of self and object, when we achieve a state of flow, the boundary between the self and the mountain dissolves.
In measuring through action, we “measure” the snow’s texture through the vibration of the edges and the resistance of the gravity. The mountain is “known” not through a map (abstract knowledge), but through the feet and legs (corporeal knowledge).
The Ethical Measure: Responsibility and Risk
To be the measure of the mountain is to accept the burden of responsibility. In the wilderness, there is no “other” to blame for a fall or a lost line.
As an authentic existence, our choices—which line to take, when to speed up, when to break—are the only laws that exist in that moment.
We are the solitary judge in the competition for space or the silence of the off-piste, as we remain the final arbiter of what the mountain represents: a sanctuary, a challenge, or a threat.
Appreciating the Extremes
The protagorean expression also implies that we must always value both the good and the bad aspects of skiing. Skiing is characterized by constant contrasts, and if these were not there, skiing would not be skiing. If there were no summer, we would not notice the winter. The hard snow allows us to appreciate the soft, fresh, and smooth composition. On stormy days, we consider the sunny days. If we never fell, we would not be able to appreciate the usefulness of being balanced. If we do not ski well, we will not know how to value when we do so.
Conclusion
Ultimately, the skier does not discover the mountain; they invent it. By imposing their own physical and psychological limits upon the landscape, the skier reveals their own character. The mountain remains a vast, snowy mirror—vast if the skier is small, and conquered if the skier is bold. To say the skier is the measure of the mountain is to recognize that we never truly encounter the world as it is, but only as we are.
