In a departure from the picture first, writing later, style I had before adopted, I have decided to write an entire post. I assure you, pictures are coming.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006 10:30 am
I groan as I try to turn over so I can stand up on my board. It has been a difficult morning.
I started out with a group of guys going through some aspens and pines in pursuit of the freshest powder. As we made our way through the woods the air was filled with animal calls, mostly wolf howls. Something about this sport that brought out the animal in all of us. I soon lag behind. It is quite steep, the snow isn’t the greatest here, and their confidence exceeds mine significantly. Before long I realize that I have stopped hearing my friends’ wild howls and realize that I am very much alone. Accepting my fate, I slow my pace.
Emerging from the woods I soon find myself out in the open surrounded by moguls. Moguls are a universal bane of snowboarders. They are mounds of snow about three feet high; the equivalent of swells on a choppy sea. Perhaps there is a way for boarders to conquer moguls with grace and speed. I haven’t found one yet. I have often observed skiers tackle this scourge with great enthusiasm and vigor, and, I must reluctantly admit, with smooth skill. Not so for those of us boarders. As I pound over the cruel aberrations I wonder “Why do I do this?â€
I soon reenter the woods. The terrain remains difficult as I pick my way through the trees. The snow is kind of hard and torn up here. My gloves are soaked from too much time spent on the ground and by now my legs are nearing the consistency of jelly, because of the exertion required to absorb all the shock and keep myself at a comfortable speed. As I near the woods’ edge, my legs fly out from under me and so I sit down involuntarily. This is pretty comfortable, I try to tell myself, as I settle in for a nice long break. As I study the trees branches above me, I am forced to ask myself the question again, “Why do I do this?â€
Wednesday, December 13, 2006 1:00-1:05 pm
After lunch most of us boarders in the group are together at the top, getting strapped in and trying to decide where to go. The sun has come out and the snow glistens brightly. The consensus is to try a different run through the woods, one less steep and with better snow. I bravely plunge in after the first couple ones to enter the copse, unwilling to allow myself to be left behind again. Quickly the trees echo with the delighted howls and appreciative sounds emitted by euphoric boarders. And indeed it does seem as though things are going well. The trees whiz pass as I alternately glide over, and spray the fresh powder. I remember Leroy Hershberger’s* advice to keep moving, not get freaked out, and plan carefully my path a couple of turns ahead in order to keep moving and avoid getting bogged down in the deep snow. I do. Everything seems to be clicking, I even start to pass some of the pack. As I delightedly kick out my tail to go around a somber aspen, I am unable to contain my joy and utter my version of the team howl. I’m guessing its sounded something between a car alarm and finger nails on a chalkboard. It’s time to switch to my heel edge as I shoot between two large pines. I emerge wearing an enormous grin.
I think I just remembered why.
One slice of a wonderful, wonderful, week. Honestly, Wednesday morning was definitely the exception to the rule. It was great. I got quite a bit more confident with everything but especially flying off of jumps.
*He was more commonly known as Crazy Eddie, or just Crazy. I’m not sure where the Eddie came from but the Crazy part wasn’t too hard to figure out. He was an exceptional snowboarder though.