Aging: running out of time and dreams (Part Two)

To pursue on that subject of ambition vs. curiosity, let me add that dreams may shrink in size but they grow in intensity. Curiosity is the antidote to the fear of limited time because it doesn’t require a future — only a present. At that point, it’s time to stop asking dreams to justify themselves. 

As we age, we demand that dreams be practical, meaningful, efficient, worth the time and the energy, but dreams don’t survive interrogation, they just survive permission. True, dreams don’t need guarantees; they need oxygen. And oxygen comes from allowing ourselves to explore without demanding a return on investment.

We must also use mortality as a focusing lens, not a threat. This is perhaps counterintuitive but extremely powerful. When time feels infinite, dreams scatter, but when time feels finite, dreams sharpen. To this, we could add that the awareness of limited time can either suffocate dreams or distill them. The trick is to let mortality clarify what truly matters instead of letting it intimidate us. 

Let’s also not forget that the biggest barrier to dreaming later in life is the belief that dreams must be large. This said the mind blooms when the dream is actionable, immediate, sized to fit our time-frame and emotionally resonant. A dream that begins today is a dream that survives. There’s no question that getting older is tricky because time suddenly feels like a narrow corridor instead of a wide, open plain. 

When we sense that the future is limited or uncertain, dreams become timid — they hesitate, they hide, or they never germinate at all. Still, dreams don’t disappear because we age; they disappear because we start demanding guarantees. We ask them to justify themselves, to prove they’re worth the time, the energy, the risk. And under that pressure, they retreat. 

So let’s remember that the way forward is to make dreaming lighter again. To shift from lifelong ambitions to seasonal ones. To replace ambition with curiosity. To let mortality sharpen our focus instead of dulling our imagination. Dreams bloom when they’re small enough to begin today, gentle enough not to intimidate us, and meaningful enough to stir something inside us. 

Time may be limited, but imagination isn’t — and the mind remains fertile as long as we give it permission to wander, explore, and play.

Aging: running out of time and dreams (Part One)

Getting older isn't for the faint at heart as we are under a pretty strong impression that the time ahead of us is more than limited and uncertain. So it’s pretty obvious that when we feel boxed-in in such a way, whatever dream we might generate gets scared, runs away in a hurry or doesn't even bother to germinate into our minds... 

The interrogation we’re left with is how can they pop-up into our mind and bloom no matter the time constraints we’re imposing on them? This is one of those questions that sits right at the intersection of psychology, philosophy, and the essence of aging.

When time feels finite, our mind becomes conservative. Dreams don’t die because we’re older; they die because the mind becomes like a risk‑averse accountant, constantly calculating “Is it worth it?” instead of "Let's try it" or “What if?” For instance, “Should I even buy a ski season pass this year? There's no absolute guarantee that I will make it through the winter, right?” The thought captures the emotional truth of that shift.

What we can add — and what will make our reflection more powerful, is a clearer articulation of how dreams still can emerge and thrive even under the pressure of limited time. What I’m convinced of, is about the psychological contraction of aging: that boxed‑in feeling is real. Then there’s the fragility of dreams under time pressure and the existential tension of still wanting to bloom while fearing the clock. One solution to that quandary is to shift from “lifelong dreams” to “seasonal dreams”. 

When we’re young, dreams are grand arcs, but as we grow older, dreams need to become seasonal in order to fit into our timeframe and thrive. They turn into smaller, sharper and more immediate inspirations. All dreams don’t need 20 years. They can be a 6‑month project, a 3‑week exploration or just a 1‑day experiment. Our minds need a proper scale in order to bloom!  

There’s another way to improve that situation by replacing ambition with curiosity. Ambition is heavy, curiosity is much lighter. If ambition asks, “Will this succeed?” curiosity asks, “What happens if I try?” We’ll continue that discussion tomorrow and explore that subtle change from ambition to curiosity, so if you're curious, please return!

A simple passive solar detail

Ever since I came to live in Park City, I’ve placed enormous importance on choosing a home site with true southern exposure. 

After spending a quarter century in a shaded location, back in the Alps, where my parents’ home received only a few hours of winter sun, I learned firsthand how profoundly mountain sunlight affects both comfort and morale. Of course, site orientation is only half the equation — architecture must do the rest. 

At 7,000 feet, our sun is stronger, our winters are colder, and our skies are clearer, which makes solar geometry one of the most powerful and overlooked design tools. I’ve always been surprised by how little attention many local architects give to passive‑solar principles. 

When we built our home in 2013, I insisted on deep south‑facing eaves — in our case, 7 feet — to block the high summer sun while welcoming the low winter sun. At this latitude, the sun’s altitude swings nearly 47° between seasons, so a well‑designed overhang can dramatically reduce summer heat gain while providing free warmth in winter. 

The photo below was taken on July 7, shortly after the summer solstice at 11 a.m. MDST, and it shows exactly how the eaves perform: full shade in summer, full sun in winter.

Passive solar isn’t complicated — it’s simply good mountain architecture.

Roland Collombin, 1951-2026

Roland Collombin was a legendary Swiss World Cup alpine ski racer, two-time World Cup downhill champion, and Olympic silver medalist. He passed away on July 10, 2026, at the age of 75 following a two-year battle with cancer. 

A ski daredevil, Collombin dominated downhill racing in the 1973/1974 ski season before sustaining some devastating spinal injuries that cut his career short at 24. He captured back-to-back Downhill Crystal Globes in 1973 and 1974. 

Taming the notorious Streif, he won the dangerous Hahnenkamm downhill race in Kitzbühel twice, in 1973 and 1974, setting a course record during his second victory. Collombin’s high-risk, high-reward racing style led to a tragic relationship with the Oreiller-Killy piste in Val d'Isère. In December 1974, he suffered a severe spine injury during a training crash that sidelined him for the entire season. 

In December 1975, as he attempted a comeback, he crashed violently at the exact same spot, fracturing two vertebrae and was temporarily paralyzed. That jump became known as "La Bosse à Collombin" (the Collombin Bump). In these days, I was ski instructing at Avoriaz and working as a volunteer on January 12, 1974 on the Jean Vuarnet downhill course there, and Collombin’s passing brought back some key memories. 

The night before the race, I got together at “Chez Caroline”, a Morzine bar-nightclub, with my friend Jean-Pierre Chatellard, then coach of the French team and Scott Henderson, coach of the Canadian downhillers that would soon become the “Crazy Canucks”. 

These days, even though I loved ski instructing, I was desperately looking for a year-round job, instead of this seasonal job, I also had no real desire to set up a souvenir shop or run a restaurant in Les Lindarets for the rest of my life. 

Just the three of us downed a bottle of whiskey among other beverages. While reminiscing and conversing, Chatellard whom I had not seen since 1972 in Australia, gave me a few serious leads for jobs in the ski industry that I followed to the letter and finally got me into me inside that area of the ski biz. 

The next day as we were side-slipping a frozen race-run, I was experiencing the worst hangover of my entire life, but I survived and Roland Collombin won that race! 

Living cruising the seas (Part Two)

So what pushes so many to spend almost as much time (if not more) on a cruise ship than at home? Many retirees mention the same advantages, no cooking, cleaning, change of scenery without packing or unpacking, safety and convenience plus excellent opportunities to socialize. 

As you can see, a touch of laziness goes a long way! For our neighbors, visiting dozens of destinations doesn’t seem to make any difference and repeatedly packing and unpacking is not even a factor. For couples, it can be an especially relaxing lifestyle because neither person has to plan every day's activities, like “What’s for dinner” or cleaning up the roof gutters. 

Of course, there are a few downsides to that sea life. Even on a huge ship, internet access can be slow or expensive (although it has improved greatly with satellite services). Medical emergencies could end up being costly and in some cases might require expensive evacuation. Cabins are relatively small, buffet food never changes, so it quickly becomes tiring, and entertainment never fails to become repetitive on a long stay away.

For those who are more curious than our neighbors, ports only provide a brief glimpse of a destination. Then, long cruises can become surprisingly expensive unless one is very disciplined about onboard purchases as everything is engineered to separate passengers from their money. This said, the economics of this lifestyle may surprise many. 

For retirees who have sold their house or rent a modest apartment, cruising isn't always as extravagant as it sounds. For instance, the cheapest ocean cruises start around $50 to $80 per person, per night (before taxes and port fees) for interior cabins. The lowest per-person, per-day rates are found on shorter 3- to 4-night sailings, repositioning cruises, and older ships from mainstream fleets like Carnival Cruise Line, MSC Cruises, and Royal Caribbean. 

So if we conservatively said $100 per person and per day, we’d get to a $36,500 cost year round which would include lodging, all meals, utilities, housekeeping, transportation between ports, entertainment, fitness facilities and many activities. This would be hard to beat for a single person renting an apartment anywhere in the US and while $73,000 for a couple might be over the actual cost, it still might be justifiable on account of the affordable services and entertainment received. 

If we compare this with maintaining a home, paying property taxes, insurance, utilities, groceries, dining out, and taking occasional vacations, the difference may be smaller than many people expect. Pretty amazing, isn’t it? Now is this lifestyle a growing trend? It would seem that way as the population of healthy retirees has grown, and cruise lines now actively cater to repeat customers with loyalty programs, extended voyages, and even "world cruises" lasting three to six months. 

Some newer itineraries are designed specifically for people who want to treat the ship as a temporary home rather than simply a vacation. This would never work for us as life on a boat feels claustrophobic, but many people who love to do nothing, and never imagined spending months at sea, discover that the combination of comfort, variety, and social interaction suits their retirement remarkably well. 

What about you? 

Living cruising the seas (Part One)

A few days ago we gave a couple of retired neighbors a ride to the airport, as they were flying to the Pacific Coast to catch a cruise. They told us that they spend almost half of their time sailing on large cruise ships with climbing walls, swimming pools and all kinds of amenities and entertainment. They don’t care where the ship sails, where it stops. 

What only counts for them is getting a good (cheap) deal, so anything goes as long as they’re housed and fed. Even though they’re rich they’re also extremely cheap. We could wonder if that practice is widespread, but after searching a bit, I found out that it’s more common than we think. 

Among retirees with sufficient income, spending months each year on cruise ships has become a legitimate lifestyle. While our neighbors' "almost half the year" sounds extraordinary, it’s far from unique. There are even people who live aboard cruise ships year-round. Several factors have made this possible, starting with available time. 

Once retired, many people no longer need to fit travel into two or three weeks of vacation and cruises can be surprisingly cost-effective. If someone books long voyages, lives in an inexpensive home, and takes advantage of loyalty discounts, the daily cost may compare favorably with maintaining a house and paying separately for hotels, restaurants, entertainment, and transportation. 

Everything is included. Meals, housekeeping, shows, pools, fitness centers, organized activities, and transportation from port to port are all bundled together. They also meet the same people repeatedly. Frequent cruisers often develop a circle of friends and even coordinate future voyages together. In addition medical services are available. 

Care on cruise ships meets basic standards for stabilization and minor illnesses, but it’s not free, nor cheap, and not directly covered by US Medicare in international waters. Patients are required to pay out of pocket upfront for all onboard medical services, and Medicare will only reimburse you if the ship is in a US port or no more than six hours away from one. While these services are not substitutes for hospitals, they provide reassurance for older travelers. 

Now, how common is that practice? Of course, the vast majority of retirees do not spend months at sea, but avid cruisers spending 60–120 nights a year aboard is fairly common. Spending 150–200 nights annually, like our neighbors, is uncommon but certainly not rare within cruise enthusiast communities. 

Tomorrow, we’ll see some other aspects of this lifestyle, so if you want to know, stay tuned!

Will the Saudis rescue the ski business?

Faced with global warming, the ski industry should logically turn to Saudi Arabia, based on its rather foolish plan or dream to build a ski resort. You read it correctly, Saudi Arabia has been planning to build an ambitious, year-round outdoor ski resort named Trojena in its mountainous desert region of the country's northwest. 

However, following ballooning costs and shifting priorities within the broader NEOM giga-project, Saudi officials have halted major construction contracts, indefinitely delaying the resort. 

Just for those like me who didn’t know it, NEOM stands for "New Future."It is a combination of two words, NEO: The Greek prefix for "new", while M is the first letter of "Mostaqbal," the Arabic word for "future" or most probably Mohammed bin Salman, the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia, who envisioned the project. 

One bad news linked to that location is its low latitude at 28.10° The planned resort is situated roughly 50 kilometers (31 miles) east of the Gulf of Aqaba coast in the Sarawat Mountain range of the Tabuk Province reaching 8,530 feet (2 600 meters) above sea level which is a bit of a stretch in being generous! By comparison: 

• Afriski Mountain, Lesotho, latitude 28.8° S , base altitude 3,050 meters (10,010’). 
• Oukaïmeden, Morocco, latitude 31.2° N. altitude 2,600 m to 3,200 m (8,500 to 10,500') feet). 
• Portillo, Chile, is 32° S, base altitude 2 880 m (9,450’) 

At Trojena, winter temperatures occasionally drop below freezing. The resort was designed to offer 30 kilometers of ski slopes featuring both real snow (via massive artificial snow-making operations using desalinated water) and year-round synthetic "dry" slopes. 

The place’s architecture featured a "vertical ski village," a massive man-made freshwater lake suspended by three large dams, ultra-luxury hotels, and a crystal skyscraper comparable in height to the Eiffel Tower, The project was specifically designated to host the 2029 Asian Winter Games, marking the first time the event would be held in a desert nation. 

Despite several years of heavy construction and the erection of massive steel frameworks, NEOM developers terminated several multi-billion-dollar contracts (including a massive dam project and a major steel supply deal). 

The project's costs reportedly swelled to $38 billion, causing the kingdom to pivot its investments toward core industrial, AI, and logistics infrastructure, pushing completion and the hosting of the Winter Games into after 2030, at the very least. NEOM has stopped short of declaring the project dead. 

So, I guess our nearby low-altitude Deer Valley East expansion will have to wait in order to reap some useful feedback and lessons learned from the Saudis…