A Snowboard Story
I started snowboarding back in January. For a while I hung
around with a guy called "Flack" at Snoqualmie pass, a few
miles east of Seattle. Well actually, it was more like I
occasionally met him at the lift, and he would give out a
few pointers. Things like, "Beginners never tighten their
bindings enough. Tighten them until they start to hurt. You'll
never get good control over your board with loose bindings."
I progressed quickly for an old fart, and by the end of February
I could ride on toe or heel in either direction. Flack had a more
usual stance, while I prefer a cenetered duck-foot. That way I
can do a trick "switch" nearly as soon as I can do it regular.
Flack had more of the usual stance, he rode regular, while I
ride goofy. This allowed us tomore easily fit the chair lifts on
the three or four times we rode up together, me on the left,
him on the right. That was when he gave me some of the
pointers that really helped me out, not general information,
but things he had seen me do in error, and noticed.
Being quite nearly 40, I try to keep my board close to the snow,
but Flack was thin enough that he didn't fall as hard as I would,
and young enough to mend quickly if he did sketch bad. My
style is more like an ice-skater. I love the freedom of
snowboarding, as well as how the restraining laws of physics
govern the interplay of momentum and gravity with the friction
of steel, wax, ice and snow. Probably for this reason, I enjoy
snowboarding the same way I enjoy small boat sailing. I like
the subtlety that goes into learning to harness the natural
forces of wind or inertia.
Flack liked speed, and jumping. The only time I've deliberately
gone airborne was when the powder was so deep that I learned
that it was impossible to hurt myself. Then my fear evaporated
and once I managed to briefly touch my board while airborne.
Eventually I will manage to do this and not end up in a pile of
legs, arms and board upon landing, maybe this season. But
Flack liked jumping and he was good enough that on one
occasion the ski patrol warned him against the dangerous
jumps where your board goes over your head.
Just about any day you snowboad is a good day, no matter
what the weather or snow conditions, and pretty much no
matter how many minor pains you induce in yourself. Last
year had about the longest skiing season ever in the Seattle
area, and we took advantage of it as late as we could. There
were some icy conditions late in the season, and only the
hard-core snow boarders would show up to take their lumps.
But Flack and I were regulars enough that every now and then
we would be up there the same night, and with smaller crowds,
the regulars stick out.
As March lengthened, the conditions got worse, and once in
late March a day of freezing rain mixed with sleet left the pass
covered with about two inches of translucent ice. Boarding
became more like ice skating, and Flack explained to me that
keeping my edges sharp was critical for conditions like that.
In addition it was raining, and with my cheap gear I was
soaked through and through within an hour. Everybody was
subdued, the worst snowboard addicts were saying they might
put give up on the local slopes until fall.
But a few days later the month turned, and so did the weather.
Temperatures dropped, and a spring storm dropped 8 inches
of powder at the crest. Naturally, I drove up the I-90 for what
I figured would be my last trip for the season. (Though you
can still ski up at Whistler in British Columbia until July.) There
was enough new snow that you would never have believed
we'd been sliding on ice a few days before. In fact, conditions
were perfect, it was the night that I first caught (okay touched)
air on my board, at least for a second.
Flack was in rare form, and made some jumps that were
breathtaking in their audacity. He demonstrated his back flip
several times, and managed to get it down to the point that he
boarded out of there like the professionals you see on video.
I watched when I could, it was so incredible that just looking
would make you catch your breath and you would feel your
heart nearly stop while he was in the air.
Finally he came around again, but instead of going for a back-
flip, he went forwards for a front-flip. But he didn't get enough
angular momentum to get all the way around. He did that
motion with his arms like rolling down the windows, but he
couldn't get his board back underneath him. In fact he
came back down with his board only a little over half way
around. The drop was about 15 feet, and his head planted
deep into the snow, facing up slope. His body was still going
down slope with a lot of momentum. I suppose the collision
with the ice even under a foot and a half of powder could just
about have killed anyone, but his head went through it. It
seemed like his chin must have caught on the upslope side
of the hole his head made cause his body kept going down
hill while his head remained in the hole. Blood. Blood everywhere.
-- Carl |
