How To Save a Season In Just One Trip part 1

I've never been the kind of guy to ride or even strive to ride 100 days in a season. I don't live close enough to the mountain and I don't have that kind of ambition. Quality powder days are more my style. Problem is, sometimes timing, weather and circumstance just don't cooperate. This year was one of those years until I pulled off a small miracle in early-April.

Early season sucked. Mt. Hood Meadows is good enough to give me a media pass and I always try to make it up for opening weekend. The last few have been good. Cold, dry snow covered most of the terrain. This year, they pushed for an early opening and it was a 'white ribbon of death' scenario. They didn't even run the main lift. It was Buttercup to Vista to dining room table runner. This is all second-hand, of course, I didn't even show. Snow came at a trickle through December and a week into January we were still looking at only two feet of total snowpack. One big storm in mid-January brought plans for my first pow-day of the year. The rain that came after dampened those plans.

The alternating rain and snow of June-uary continued. One day, sunny and 50. The next, rain. January was mostly a bust, too. The second-best storm came as I was leaving town for Colorado at the end of the month. Luckily, it was snowing there, too and I got some good days in. Realistically, though, it was SIA and I was demoing boards and nowhere near mid-season form. I was almost glad to take a break every two runs. On top of that, it was a new resort and I didn't know my way around anyway. I took a couple good runs with a knowledgeable local guide (thanks, Gags), but overall it was more business than pleasure.

SIA. Intense.

SIA was, however, the source of my season-saver. Wasatch Equality was having a silent auction fundraiser and the deals were smoking. I picked up a bunch of gifts for family and one big steal for me: a four-day trip to Baldface Lodge for about one-third of normal price. Winter was starting to look up.

February came in hot. So hot that the entire city got shut down from the snow for a solid week. About the time I was going to head up to Baker for the Banked Slalom, my buddy from Bellingham was headed down here claiming that they didn't have any snow. So I stayed put. The mountain wasn't nearly as good as you'd hope when there was so much snow in town. A little inverted. Some rain. I got in a good day or two, but nothing consciousness-expanding. My first legit pow day didn't even come until the last week of the month.

March can be the best month of the season. Everything comes together, the base is built and the storms are a little more mellow. This March was unspectacular, especially after we just got done with a February that dumped 11 feet on us. Again, a couple good days, a couple fun days, memorable, but not all-time.

Now, I'm not Nose-dradamus, but I bet you're wondering, "What the hell did you do with yourself all winter? You weren't updating the blog, that's for sure." Actually, I spent a bunch of time in the gym preparing for pow days, so I wouldn't fold three runs in. I took my frustration out on some weird metal plates, some stretchy bands, some cables and pulleys. I climbed up some wooden and plastic walls a couple times a week. I ended up rather liking it. I even put on a little muscle. The whole time, my eye was on that Baldface trip at the end of March. If I wanted to charge for four days in a row of cat boarding, I needed to be ready.

Baldface Update: Photo Essay

Pictures are worth more, right!? It's been getting heavy around here. Warm weather is messing up our snow, but not our good times. Here's a little slice.

 Get geared up and load the cats.

Say goodbye to the chalets.

Goof off in the cat on the way to the zone.

Find rad zone.

Go get it.

Repeat until this stoked.

Pay respects to the master at Craig's Cross.

Words are over-rated anyway. Except this one: SKOL! That's how Norwegians toast their alcohol. I know this because there's a group of said Scandinavians here and they toast about a dozen times every dinner. They play it fast and loose. Shots, beers, bottles of wine. All-time, those guys.

Baldface 2.0: Oh Yes I Did

Some people shell out for a week of summer shred camp. Me I go for a week at Baldface. I'll take spring pow and gourmet meals over a chilidog-fueled bro-down any day. Currently, I'm sitting in my chalet. I paid for a lodge room, but two people were no-shows. Border problems, I guess. I'm not sure how. I showed up with no passport and still made it through. In less time than it took last year. A quick 20-minute search of my vehicle and I was on my way. Spent another night at the White House Hostel. Cheap bed, you seen one you seen 'em all. The next morning, however hot springs action.

Sweet view from the hot springs.

Ainsworth Hot Springs is just up the road from Nelson and they do it right. A 96°F (35.5°C) pool starts things out. From there you go to one of two X-treemes: the 41°F (5°C) straight outta the river waterfall and cold plunge or the 105°F (40°C) horseshoe-shaped hot cave and tub. Maxin' and relaxin' without the b-ball shooting. That's just why my aching joints needed after getting worked one too many times on my last visit to Meadows.

 Arctic plunge or hot tub caves?

Comparatively luke-warm pool.

Now, a short 7-minute heli ride later, I'm at Baldface Lodge. The heli came over the ridge and into view of the lodge and it felt like the gates to paradise had opened before me. Now it's on. It's been snowing for a couple days. One of the guides said yesterday was the best of the season. I'm locked in, gnar boots at the ready. My Never Summer SL-R got the binding pushed back and I also set up a Malolo 162. More on those later. I'm off for one last check of everything before bed. The quicker I fall asleep the quicker the best riding of my life comes. A kid might have Christmas morning, I get the next four days. Instead of sleigh bells, I'll be hearing a diesel snowcat in my dreams.

View from the chalet at sunset. How lucky am I!?

Notes on the Road, the Olympics and Joint Pain

As I sit here, waiting for clothes to dry for my next adventure, I thought I might share some things I learned from the previous adventure. And some things learned from adventure in general. And some ranting I never did about the Olympics (which happened while I was away). And whatever else comes to mind.

Hostels are the way to go. They're cheap, you get to meet people and the atmosphere is just straight up better than most hotels. When was the last time you stayed at a hotel and actually met a fellow traveler? Met a fellow traveler over a beer and a snowboard video? My point exactly. Take heed, aside from the obvious (your roommates may vary, etc.), at Jackson Hole the pool room had more cougars than Wild America. Bring your bear spray or your 'A' game, depending.

Local guides are irreplaceable. This couldn't possibly need explaining.

When your guides don't stop, you only get pictures of their backs.
Andy, Uriel and Benny in a Utah blizzard.

Those times you get seated in an exit row, you will be next to a 400-pounder with screaming babies front and back. Enjoy the leg room, bring headphones and lean right.

Nate Holland has a problem with tight clothes in boardercross. So much of a problem that the New York Times did a story. Here's a nugget that escaped most of the commentary:

“If someone is showing up to races in tight clothes, we wouldn’t recommend that person for a spot,” said Holland, who is on the selection committee for snowboard cross at the X Games.

Nate actually has the power to nix invites. He also has no qualms about doing so on the basis of fashion. He says, "the image is at stake." I say if you're strapped in to one plank and standing sideways, chances are you're a snowboarder. You want to ban alpine boards?  Get over it.

Shaun White got another gold medal. Something tells me this one will fade from the public memory faster than the last. He and his team know it, too. Why else would they have done all the pre-hype? He was on talk shows and tv specials before the games even started. Are magazines that didn't have him on covers going to want him any more now? Magazines that did? He's definitely breaking into that 50-60 demographic, though.

How about Todd Richards' color commentary? Double-double extra tomato, classic. The tape-delay and NBC's general coverage on the other hand. Meh. Show it live. How long did it really take? Far less than the men's figure skating short program or some random curling match...

I like Mt. Hood Meadows for the fact that it doesn't turn to moguls nearly as quickly as places that have a higher ratio of skiers. Looking down a 1000' bowl of moguls just makes my joints ache. Compared to most other places, though, that's about its only redeeming quality. Well, that and I've come to know it well over the years.

Living in the mountains must be the best thing ever. I've gotta try that out. This whole hour and a half drive is no good. Purgatory, I say. Portland is a great city, though.

It reads, "If you're lucky enough to live in the mountains, then you're lucky enough." Cody bought it for $25.

Hiking a long time for just one run is generally worth it. Try it some time. Bring food, drink and stoke. And one guy who knows what's up. Preferably with able legs.

Post-ride beers, snacks and laughs. Dumping hard enough to cover our gear in minutes. Good thing we were in the trees. Tom, Cody and Matt after a Willy's Peak expedition.

Now I'm off on the 9-hour drive to Nelson, BC. Then a quick, 9-minute heli to Baldface lodge. Looks like they're getting the goods right now, so things are looking up. Weather's looking good for the drive, too. White knuckles replaced by chillaxing.  I'm thinking of doing some quick video interviews with random employees at Baldface to get some insight into the inner workings. I mean, who wouldn't want to work at a rad cat-riding operation? We'll see if it's all that. I know the riding is.

Great Huzzah!

My insurance actually covered the airlift from Baldface! All I had to shell out was a $75 co-pay. I take back most of the bad things I ever said about KP. Now if I could just find a BofA to deposit this check in... Also in the package of goodies my girlfriend sent me was a jury summons. I'm pretty stoked to do my civic duty and take part in the judgment of my peers. Seriously, I've always wanted to. It was really easy to deffer it to a better time, too. Just called them up and they were accommodating. Finally, the gf sent me three CDs: two road tunes mixes and Jimmy Buffett's 'Songs You Know By Heart.' What a rad chick.

Williston' monument to agriculture will serve as a monument to my girl.

My wheels roll onward and eastward, the plains gradually giving way to Minnesota's forests.

Mood Swings

The ride home Sunday went quick like it always does. Recounting the day's glory with a friend whilst jamming on some ridiculous 80's music (in this case DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince). When I got home and shut the door it crept in, was that the last day of the season? It sure felt like it. All outerwear was overkill. More bikinis than puffies. More sunblock than face shots. It was so sunny out that even with shades on (that's sunglasses, not even goggles) I thought it was a little too bright. The double shot of rub-on wax. What was I surfing? The climbers outnumbered the riders. It all added up to summertime. For a snowboarder, it's more like bummertime...

I feel like I missed out on half the season between the rib injury and the seizure. With Timberline and her glacier even summer means doing the ole slip slide on the shred sled, but I'm no park shark, I'm a pow hound. The prospect of getting stuck up to my nipples in the fluff and having to swim out (a prospect I once feared), I will now miss until December. Thank Goddess for Baldface. The season's (though not my wallet's) savior. Only 10 months 'til next time...

Then, out of nowhere I get this e-mail. It's from Kristy, our cat driver at Baldface.'I finally got those photos for you,' she says. Let me see...

Providing motivation through another summer (Kristy Herauf photo)

... and four more shots of me on a field of white with few other tracks. How sweet! Shots that could depress me just make me even more stoked to do what I do and be where I am. How could I possibly be depressed when I'm so blessed. I live next door to the longest riding season anywhere and I was bumming on powder!? Internal bitch slap delivered. (A southern hemisphere gig would still be all-time if anyone has a hookup)

It's always fun to hit some jumps. Sometimes they're cliffs to pow and sometimes they're windlips to flat. One just teaches you how to tweak a Japan quicker. Natural terrain up here never goes away, the landings just get closer. Seriously, I could go up there in July and get that same feeling!? What's better? Slide over the snow and soar through the air. It's all a matter of perspective. Get what you can while you can and hang the board up only when you have to. Besides, Ben's still down to ride. I'll be up there celebrating Memorial Day. When Timberline finally shuts down in September, I'll be ready with the bike and skateboard. Making the most of my off-season to come back strong, ribs healed (they still hurt, if you can believe it) and brain under control. Wreck, rise, repeat...

Baldface 2009: How to Do It Up Right

So you've had a pass at your local resort for a few years. Snow phone is #1 on your speed dial. You know the blacks and double blacks better than your significant other's favorite movies. [Mine's is Princess Bride] You hit the trees harder than Snoop Dogg on Saturday night. You don't even get out of bed for less than eight inches anymore. You've even been known to get a little Xtreem in the gated access areas. All of this is great, but there's something missing. The steeps just don't feel that steep anymore and the more you travel the more all these resorts just look the same. You're wondering, what's next?

Your options are several. You could buy all the necessary avalanche gear, take all the classes and set out with a group of like-minded individuals in search of first descents (or just first for you). This is a great option, but can be complicated. Where do you go? Splitboard or sled? Maps? Snow camping? There must be an easier way. Of course there is. Enter option 2. Helicopters!

Guided heli operations (like other guided services) take much of the guesswork out of the equation. They have the equipment, the knowledge and the transportation. After an avalanche refresher, you'll find yourself on top of line after line of, well, whatever you want to ride. The catch is obvious, money. Heli time alone can easily exceed $2000 per hour and as long as those blades are spinning, you're paying. Lodging and food may or may not be included in the price, so the budget just gets steeper. Any chance of a less expensive and less complicated way to get out there? Yup, remote snowcat riding, like Baldface Lodge.

Someday all of this can be yours, if only for three days (Dave Thomas photo)

Snowcat operations have most of the access and convenience of helicopters without the cost. Baldface, for example costs anywhere from 550-775 Canadian dollars per day, all inclusive. So for the price of an hour of heli time, you just paid off a four-day trip to some of the best Canada has to offer. As far as transportation goes, cats are no slouch, either. Granted, they aren't as fast as choppers, but they're much faster than skinning up. I'd compare it to a long chairlift ride. Think of it like this: you ride down a steep-gladed pitch with some cliffs and pillows thrown in (never having to cross another's tracks, of course) and at the bottom is the lodge only the lodge then drives you up to another similar line and you repeat 13 more times throughout the day. That's what cat-boarding feels like. The cat is fully equiped with whatever you thought to bring. Lunch, extra layers, music, friends oh yeah and it's warm.

My only experience with snowcat lodges was Baldface, so here are some tips on how to get the most out of your trip. First off, you don't even have to bring your own board. If you don't, make your first stop the gear room. Pick out your board and tune it up to your preferences. They have wax, iron, files and anything else you might need. After that it will be about time for dinner. Eat well, the meals are always good. Next comes the biggest choice you will face every night, to party or not to party. You won't have much time to shake the hangover the next morning, so my advice is to take it easy and maybe work your way up. Take it from Benny...

Partying and riding harder than you, Benny Pelegrino (Johan photo)

I personally partied myself into a seizure and missed the last day of riding, so that's where my advice is coming from. Just remember how much money you threw down and how you're going to feel in the morning after a night of drinking at altitude and if you still want to bang a gong, well, here's the mallet. Obviously drinking isn't the only thing to do, they have a pool table, dart board, fireworks, a sauna, ping pong, video games (including one with a fake guitar). One last thing before bed, if you're the type who likes a snack, just ask the kitchen staff, they're pretty accommodating. Now get to sleep.

The first thing that goes down in the morning is a stretching/yoga class. It's up to you whether you want to sleep for that half hour or stretch. I tried it both ways and the jury's still out. The jury is not out on breakfast, it has come to a unanimous verdict that breakfast is necessary. Any sucker caught skipping breakfast will serve a sentence of 5-10 runs of bad turns and general fatigue. Seriously, with all the options available, no one goes hungry at Baldface. After breakfast, pack a lunch, son, 'cuz it's gonna be a long day. When in doubt, pack more. You can always trade grade school style on the cat. Speaking of which, one time, in sixth grade, I traded a kid my apple for a Caramello bar. No joke. Then, I traded that for a granola bar and a bag of fruit snacks. And somehow I'm not a stock broker. That kid is probably a Franciscan monk with that kind of restraint and discipline. But I digress. At the end of the trip, I was packing a sandwich (they will have at least six options on any given day), two granola bars, an orange and a dessert bar (usually two options). Oh and don't forget that water bottle. Hydration is key, especially if you made it a late night or endulged in the sauna. Each cat is equipped with a milk crate size water cooler in case you should run out. As for the riding, if you're coming from resorts it will be the best time you've ever had. It takes some getting used to, so if this is your first time, start slow. The guides are there for you and they're smart enough to avoid potential hazards. Your mind gets to focus on avoiding trees and not avioding avalanches. However, don't stray too far from the guide's tracks lest you wander into unknown territory. After you're sufficiently jelly-legged the mobile lodge will deposit you back at the stationary lodge where hot soup and appetizers will be waiting. My routine went something like snack, beer, nap, shower, dinner. Sometimes I threw a sauna in there. Dave will show slides of the days action right before dinner, so don't miss it, especially on the days he was in your cat. Then, well, the routine (if you can really call this routine) repeats until they take you back to Nelson (via heli or cat and boat, just as you came) or as I like to call it, reality. Make sure and get the contact info of your new friends, so you can plan the next year's trip.

Everyone's friends on a powder day (Dave Thomas photo)

Baldface 2009: Electrical Brainstorm

Day 4 started out like all the other days. Woke up feeling woozy and slightly nauseated. All the booze the night before couldn't have helped.

Now that reminds me. I never mentioned the night before. One of the dishwashers, known as Boney M, celebrated his birthday that night. Now, I don't know if it's a Canadian thing or a Baldface thing, but instead of a regular birthday spanking, we treated him to a spank tunnel. Here's how it works: all involved line up front to back with legs spread. Yeah, imagine humping the person in front of you from behind with a wide stance, then imagine a long line of this and you have the right idea. The birthday boy then crawls on his hands and knees through the tunnel formed by the spread legs. As he passes through, each person spanks him. Sounds easy, eh? Well, kitchen staff had at him with spoons and baking sheets. People from the front went around to the back after he had crawled through, so as to make a neverending tunnel. I'm sure he couldn't sit comfortably for a week. Makes me happy my birthday is in May. I don't want to be anywhere near snowboarders when it happens. I don't feel so bad for Boney, though. Think about it, dude washes dishes at a primo backcountry lodge. If he doesn't get to sample the savory goods on occasion, then I feel for him.

Also, all the Jesus talk came to a head. You see, 12 people fit in a cat and Jesus had 12 disciples. Didn't take long before we rounded up the posse and took this picture:

Accompanied by riotous rounds of "Jesus is Just Alright"

OK, back to the past present. Day 4. I'm eating breakfast. In this case, granola with 2%. Not much is going down. Idle chatter. How about some tea? Then, I go down. I wake up with Greg, the snow expert, standing over me looking concerned. "You had a seizure." No shit? The granola wasn't that bad. Martin was sticking me with an IV and a small crew was whisking me away to be evacuated via helicopter. Not exactly how I envisioned my first heli trip, but I guess I don't have many outs. At this point, I should mention that this is actually my second seizure. I had my first a year ago in Aspen. I was told it was a fluke. Guess even doctors can be wrong. Now that I've had two unprovoked seizures, I officially have epilepsy. What that means to me is two pills per day to keep it at bay. No driving for three months. Oh yeah and a one beer maximum per day (maybe two if I space them out well enough). How's that for weak. No, I can't save up drinks through the week and carry them over to a Saturday night. No, a 40oz. of OE is not one beer. I'm talking one 12oz. beer (or equivalent of other alcohol). Why don't they just give me a curfew and let me fully relive 15?

In new news, I've undergone a battery of tests and things are looking up. The meds are doing their job and nothing else is wrong with me. Basically, we wait and see. My next appointment is in six months. Coasting.

One good thing to come out of this is all of the great people around me. I thought I knew how rad the snowboarding community was, then this happened. I'm truly blown away. I've had dozens of people that I've known for less than a week offering their support. That means so much to me it's given me misty eyes multiple times. People are just amazing. There's no other way to say it. So many beautiful people are united just by the love of snow. If there's one thing I want to pass along more than anything else it's that: go out and meet your fellow riders, you'll be stoked on the folks you see.

Good people, spank tunnel notwithstanding

For my next entry, a full-on course in how to get the most out of your backcountry lodge experience. The dos, don'ts, ins, outs and what have you. Not one to miss. Seriously, that last one was skipable, but not this next one...

Baldface 2009: The New Old Milwaukee - It Doesn't Get Much Better

Day 2 was when things started clicking. I mounted up the Fish 156, added a little extra lunch to the bag and strapped my balls on a little tighter. Another 10cm of fresh had our tracks from the previous day covered. Oh yeah, we were getting some. With avy school taken care of, we headed straight for the trees.

Jesse Lu is leading a stoked crew

Our new sweeper guide, Karla, ever vigilant

Now for those of you who have any doubt that cat boarding is worth your money, I produce these photos, all of yours truly and taken by Dave Thomas (just like the rest of the photos on this page, lest you thought I learned how to take pictures real quick)...

Add your own whooshing sound

Like a girl with no ass, the pow was bottomless

Sorry, Dave, I still owe you a beer

Face shots for breakfast, pillow pops for lunch and plenty of pow snacks in between. I'm not getting all ballsy with the cliff drops, but my new buddy Martin is going for it and he has me thinking. You see with the powder piling up, a 20-foot cliff cliff feels like jumping on a bed. I'll get that jazz next time, this day was fun enough whipping high-speed slashes and getting that zero-G feeling in the white room. It just kept getting better.

When not contemplating cliff drops, Martin is an ER doc.
Who takes care of him if he lands on that tree?

Dr. Martin exhibiting clinical precision yet again

Day 3 would prove to be my final day riding. And with days like that, I'm not sure it gets any better anyway. I went with the 156 Fish LTD, which felt just like the Fish to me. Great board for the conditions. That woozy feeling was still creeping up in the morning, but once the fresh mountain air and snow hit my face, I was feeling great. Unstoppable really. Best day riding yet. I felt indestructible. I'm sure I didn't hit anything that huge, but the feeling was there. So much time in the white room you'd think I was paying rent. A couple cliffs, a few hits and powdery turns all day long. My legs were holding up surprisingly well for a guy who was just coming off of injury [that damn rib is still in pain, too]. I was on the six Advil a day diet, though.

Just for fun, at the end of the day Karla drove the cat and Kristy was our guide. Karla even had to ask where the windshield wipers were, talk about a newb. Then Kristy got us lost. Maybe they need a little more practice. Speaking of a little more practice, we rode back to the lodge instead of taking the cat and I 'tripped' on the sidewalk by the chalets. Whoops. And that's how I'm going out. The next day at breakfast, the lights went out. I'll talk about that one in the next post.

Baldface 2009: Like a Snow Dive for a Sauna

Righty-o, so I wake up on the first day of riding after a couple hours of sleep and head to the stretching/yoga class. Just what I needed. Seriously, odds are good I was in for a snore alarm clock, so I might as well be just barely awake. I'm kinda bummed that this was the only session that I made it to because this was the last day I had any appetite in the morning, too. Speaking of breakfast, Baldface does it up right. The spread was matched only by grand $20/plate buffets. Hot multigrain cereal and homemade granola with brown sugar, homemade yogurt and fruit toppings. Hot bacon, sausage and eggs. Homemade breakfast sandwiches and a bevvy of bread products with an assortment of toppings. Grab a cup of hot tea, coffe or cocoa and take a seat. Gotta chow down before you throw down. Then, it's time to pack a lunch because the cat don't come back 'til 4 or 5. Pick up a reusable insulated bag and fill it up with any of a dozen different homemade sandwiches, granola bars or apples and oranges. And don't forget the homemade cookies and brownies!

Now it's time to get geared up, you know, just like any other day on the mountain. What you'll need depends on what it's like outside. Check the weather report. Today: 65cm (just over 2 feet) fresh snow, temperature -5°C. Rub eyes and check again. . . yeah, you saw it right. Cue giddy school-girl giggling. Pack extra underwear because you'll probably piss yourself out of balls-out bliss after one turn. OK, now go to the gear room, grab your freshly waxed board and the most important piece of equipment in your arsenal: the avalanche transciever. I have no idea how to use one of these, so I better snap out of my light-headed rush at the conditions and pay attention during avalanche class.

I don't mean to gloss over this because avy preparedness is the most important thing for a backcountry rider. But I'm not qualified to teach you myself either. Learning from a trained professional (in our case two) is the only way. This class was where we met our lead guide, Joel, and our sweeper guide, Greg. As well as being a fine guide and hell of a good guy, Greg was a snow expert. You have a question about snow, ask him. What's the average avalanche burial depth? Greg says 80cm to 1m and I believe him. Joel was great, too. He laid out the template of how to use a transciever to find and rescue a buried rider. The stuff you need to know, but hope to never have to use. I couln't have asked for two better guys to show me the ropes on my first foray into the deepnessness.

Joel ripping it Dave Thomas photo

Greg knows how the snow blows Dave Thomas photo

After finding our beacons, it was time to pile into the cats and get out there for some fun in the BC pow. Admittedly, the first few runs were nothing like I thought they'd be. Then again, I didn't much know what to expect. I was not that smooth and having a hard time. Here's where Greg came to the rescue. He gave me a lot of pointers, got me to slow down and got me to take bigger turns. Basically he got me to chill out and get over the jitters. He also suggested that I set up a 156 Fish for the next day, a bit of advice that would be the turning point of the trip. That first day, more than anything was about progression. Going in, I thought I knew powder. It was like spending life in a backyard kiddie pool and then getting thrown into the ocean. The adjustment took a while. Any time Joel took us to an area where there was a cliff, jump or other opportunity to huck, I took the easier way down. Like a blind man at an orgy, I was all about feeling things out (Thanks Naked Gun).

None of this is to say I wasn't having a good time. Quite the opposite. It was like snowboarding for the first time. What's more fun than that? It was straight up playing in the snow. Spending time on your ass teaches you the best way to get up. As with the saying, it's not about how many times you fall, it's about how much fun you have when you're up. Right!? We had 13 people in the cat that day, which left an odd man out. Guess who that was? Mostly I rode in a group of three with a couple other guys from Portland. One was Oliver and I don't remember the other guy's name. If anyone has contact info for those two guys, hook me up. They left after two days and didn't ride in my cat day two. The rest of the time I rode with Greg. Without that guy, my trip wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. He helped me out constantly and was great guide to have around. Plus he was just a nice guy off the snow, too. Whatever they're paying you, Greg, it isn't enough. Huzzah!

Lodge time came too soon. I was just getting the hang of it. My mind was focused on hot food, cold beer and a quick nap before dinner. I woke up just in time to catch the slide show of Dave's photos before digging into another replenishing dinner. The Jesus jokes flew fast and furious and I was even treated to (maybe treated isn't the right word) an impromptu serenade of the chorus of Jesus is Just Alright by the Doobie Brothers (who are playing a show in May at the Rose Garden with the Allman Brothers Band, count me in). That was something never before heard by these ears. A first of firsts. Then it was time to set up the new board, a Burton 156 Fish. After another drink and a recounting of the days events with equally stoked out friends, it was off to bed only to get up and do it all again tomorrow. What could possibly be better tomorrow? Well, for one, Dave Thomas (no, not that Dave Thomas, the photographer) joined us to bring out that Kodak courage. Also, I had the right board and my confidence on the rise.

Tip of the iceberg Dave Thomas photo

Baldface 2009: Wake Up in Reality, Ascend into Dreamland

When last you left our hero, he was snoozing it off in the cheapest bed in Nelson, dreams of neck-deep powder drifting through his head. Only too abruptly he was awakened by his room mate packing up his shit to make it to the resort early. It was 6am and this rude bastard had strewn his ski gear all over the room, but mostly on the table right next to my head. Let this be a lesson to those of you who dare sleep in dorm-style rooms in hostels. Keep your shit next to your bed. Sounds easy, right? That way your room mate doesn't have to fake sleeping while you pack up for the day.

If you're sleeping on the right, don't put your shit on the left. Got it!?

OK, take 2, somewhere around 10am. Much better. A shower and a short stack of 'cakes and ski-douche is the farthest thing from my mind. One dude who is damaging my calm is this kid Trevor. He's staying at the hostel, I think, and he says he was at some party last night and is still tripping on acid. Matt can give you more details. He can't even finish a sentence and he definitely won't let you finish yours. Nothing is worse than being interrupted by a guy who has nothing to say. Anyway, I feast away with Matt, Nick and now fellow freq Jesse and get gone. The heli doesn't pick up 'til 2, so I've got some time to wander.

Item 1 on the agenda is pretty simple: find a Wunderbar. This candy bar is available in every drug and grocery store in Canada, but south of the border, you get none! I don't know if it's the fact that I can't have it that makes me want it so much or if it's the chewy, crispy, carmely, peanut buttery goodness, but the one I bought the night before just didn't do the trick and I need another one. Sooo good. I don't even eat candy bars in the US except for sometimes the days after Valentine's Day, Easter or Halloween when they're really cheap.

Whilst wandering I notice a sign that simply reads "Fireworks," outside of a gas station. Curiosity gets the best of me. Inside, I'm treated to the real deal. I wonder, will they let me shoot them off at the lodge? Will they let me bring them onto the heli? Will they even fly the heli today, the weather's pretty shitty? How long will it take in a snowcat? Did I remember to turn the heat off at my place? In the end, I settled on 20 bucks worth. If I had to leave them behind, no big deal, I'd shoot them off when I got back. If they got confiscated at the border, 20CDN is like bus fare in the US. (Me: Will they let me shoot off fireworks at the lodge? Matt: HAHAHAHA of course, they have a stash of their own. They'll probably make you shoot some off! [or something like that])

OK, we rally the group at the heli pad only to find out that they're not flying the choppers. Lame. We relocate to the docks and wait for transfer across the lake to the snowcats. Only we wait in a lounge... and no one gets charged for drinks. Hmm... Many of the freqs decide that letting the others go first would be the polite thing to do. As we get on the boat some crazy guy decides to jump into the lake. I realize now that if I was just getting back from Baldface, I might feel invincible, too. That guy came back to reality in a harsh way. Much as I did, now that I think about it.

Jesse's just a little bummed about not getting to heli in

OK, so we get to the cats and the joke's on us, they had a case of Kokanee waiting for us there the whole time. And someone brought a handle of Crown Royal, you know, just to keep it Canadian. I don't know how long it took from there to the lodge, but in that time I met most of the senior staff of frequency and drank, well, I had a couple. The drinking, in this case, served not only as a social lubricant (maybe a little too much in that regard as I started bricking 'dead baby' jokes immediately), but also to calm my nerves. You see, I had no idea what to expect. I knew it was 'epic-ing' out, so the snow would be good, but would that mean increased avalanche risk? Would my ribs hold up? Would my lungs and legs hold up for four full days in a row? The drinks said, "Let it ride." So I did.

Get in. And do you know the difference between jam and jelly?

We were welcomed to the lodge with awesome dinner. Seriously, every dinner was better than most things I've ever cooked. The desserts were far better. Also, by this time, word had spread that I was a lone traveler from Oregon. I guess that's not too common, but not everyone has friends who can afford this type of journey. (I've got at least one friend who, hearing the tales of high adventure on the snowy seas swears his savings start now.) Add to that my long hair and beard and a few guys dubbed me Jesus. This would be a recurring theme throughout the trip. Funny dudes all the way around. When you look like I do, you're prepared for these types of gags, but the lengths they took it to were unprecedented. I'll have pictures of that later.

You gots to chill...

After the feast of the mouth came the feast of the snowboards. Down in the gear room was every board you could imagine. OK, not really, but they had dozens of types, sizes and shapes. I settled on a Burton Fish LTD 160 with Cartel EST bindings. Both this year's model. After a quick wax and tune, she was ready for action. And now that buzz was back. Only a more positive vibe this time. The stick was slick and I was ready to kick it. A little more socializing and I was off to bed early. Not much sleep, though, just tossing and turning. Then my room mate came in. Woody is nice as hell. Woody is also a heavy snorer. So heavy that I went to the couches in the game room for solace. No dice. There my ears were assaulted by the dance beats thumping away upstairs. Half an hour at a time was all I could manage. Thankfully, by the time I retreated back to my room, Woody had stopped snoring. Miracles can happen. It was just past 4 and I would sleep uninterrupted 'til breakfast, almost three hours.

Good morning, Baldface!

In our next installment, I'll tell you about some of the deepest powder I've ever ridden, how to find the pow board for you and a serenade for the ages. 'Til then, get out there and rip your own line.

Baldface 2009: Shoving Off

When you've got a pre-paid 4-day pow-fest coming up, you better be ready for it. Coming at it injured is not the best way to go. Problem is, sometimes it's the only way to go. I put in a day's ride on March 12 after taking a month's break to heal. Luckily for me, it worked. I was finally healed! After sessioning the terrain most like what I thought I'd find at Baldface (an area of steep trees at Meadows called Jack's Woods), like, all damn day, my ribs felt the same as they did when I started. That was far better than they'd felt after sessions past. I figured it was on. Now all I had to do was repeat that day four times in a row. Food and drink would be provided. No big deal, right? We shall see. Pack those bags and hit those bricks. The drive was nine hours long.

Turns out the first predicament came in crossing the border. That's right, this is an international journey. I had my passport and everything. I guess I also had a few extra inches of hair on my head and face. What follows is a loose transcript of the conversation that went down among two border guards and myself. We'll call them Border Bitch and Border Guy.

BB: Where you headed?
Me: Baldface Lodge, up in the mountains.
BB: How long?
Me: 'til the 19th
BB: How do I know you won't stay longer?
Me: I don't have any place to stay after that.
BB: You ever been arrested?
Me: This one time, it was really dumb...
BB: You better pull your car into the stall that reads 'You'll be spending the next few hours with us'
Me: Fuck
[Border Bitch and Border Guy commence filming of the TV show 'Ransack My Ride']
BB: Is this a sleeping bag?
Me: Yes
BB: What are all these pills for?
Me: I'm going on a four-day snowboard trip and I'm trying to recover from an injury.
BB: These are the kind of pills ultimate fighters take.
Me: Well, I don't know anything about that, but snowboarding is pretty tough.
BB: What does this one do?
[I proceed to explain as scientifically as possible what my pills do, resisting all urges to tell her that one of them makes my dick bigger.]
BB: Why are these two bottles the same, but the pills inside are different?
Me: I put the ones from a bigger bottle into a smaller one to save space.
BB: How do I know?
Me: You'll just have to take my word.
BB: I have to go inside and feign doing some analysis on them. You stay here with Border Guy.
BG: Is this a sleeping bag.
Me: Yeah.
BG: Is this a computer?
Me: Yup.
BG: Can you turn it on for me?
Me: OK
BG: Show me your pictures.
Me: There you go.
[BG spends the next 10 minutes trying to figure out how to scroll through my pictures, finally I do it for him]
BG: Are those breasts? Do you have porn on here!?
Me: You got me. Is that illegal in Canada?
BG: It's all adult, right?
Me: Of course.
BG: OK, you better go in and see if Border Bitch has turned your vitamin pills into methamphetamines yet.
BB: Turns out you're clean.
Me: Thank God. Can I go now, it's only been an hour..?
BB: OK, but I need to lecture you for a few more minutes about pills and bottles and other bullshit.
Me: Right, you mean the fact that I could have three types of illegal drugs in there, so long as they were in different bottles you wouldn't have any idea..?
BB: Basically yeah, you're free to go now.
Me: Sweet, good to know

Yeah, so one hour after I pulled up to the border shack trying my best to leave the good ole US of A, I was allowed access to the Great White North (where I might add it was snowing so hard that one member of our future posse would refer to it as Epic-ing). Maybe they knew that I was already pre-paid. I mean, why bother letting a guy in when his money is already in? Whatever the reason for the runaround it left me wanting a drink and a bed for the night...

Don't let the picture fool you, I arrived at night...

Not long after arriving in Nelson, I was directed to the White House Backpacker Lodge (fancy words for 'Hostel'). For only $26CDN, I got a bed for the night and a free pancake breakfast (provided I cook it myself and clean up after, both stipulations I could live with). Immediately I met Matt and Nick who would be joining me for freq week at Baldface. They offered beer and we drank and yakked well into the night. The trip was looking up and what better time to call it a night and end on a good note. Next time I'll tell you about this crazy druggie named Trevor, a long drunken cat trip to the lodge of dreams and the beginning of what I'm pretty sure was nothing more than a pleasant hallucination... Keep it locked.

Had me feeling like the President... until the next morning

Baldface 2009: First in a Series

Wow! I just got back from the best snowboard trip of my life. So good, it made me have a seizure. I'm not even kidding. Give me a minute to collect myself and I'll give you the whole story. If you just want the short version, here goes. I got there (Baldface Lodge near Nelson, BC) knowing nothing, no one and having no idea what I was in for. I left with dozens of new friends and life-changing experiences. Here's a teaser photo...

Cat access and 65cm of new snow, good times!

OK, more of the good stuff later; and I've got plenty, including face shots, shot skis off splitboards, biblical reenactments, mostly naked co-ed snow diving, spank tunnels, the list just doesn't stop. You will want to follow up on this one.

In Pain in the Ribcage

Man am I bummin'. The last time I snowboarded was two weeks ago. That wasn't so bad for a while, but in the last five days my home mountain has gotten five feet of fresh. And I'm still hurt.But let me press rewind for a second to catch everybody up.

Where we're going, we don't need snow...

The original accident happened on January 20. I remember, not only because I keep a journal, but because I finished watching Obama's swearing in on TV before I left for the mountain. When I pulled in to the lot, it was empty. It was also a Tuesday after a holiday weekend, but regardless of the reason, liftlines were nil. It was the middle of Mt. Hoods June-uary and a sunny, 50° afternoon felt pretty good to me. No pow in sight, but park laps and a little work on my notoriously lagging switch riding were just fine by me. Everything was fine until one stretch of flats that I decided to traverse switch. I know now that I have some edges that I need to detune. I did that right when I got home that day. Problem is, that's the sort of thing you want to do in advance. You see, catching an edge at speed is kind of like teleporting. One second you're cruising along, the next you're taking your elbow out from between your ribcage and trying to catch your breath. Little kids and skiiers and everyone else on the slopes just happens to be on that same run. They all ride past wondering how someone could get wrecked so hard on a trail that's flatter than the parking lot. Yeah, that's me. Kids who were conceived the day I started riding look at me like I just told them Barney is just a guy in a suit. Humble pie, slopestyle. I tried to ride a few more times (for Baker Banked Slalom and the Greasebus trip), but only ended up making things worse. So here I sit, haven't seen the snow in weeks. Summary complete.

That bums me out, but it gets worse. I've got an amazing trip to Canada planned and it's only two weeks away. This trip includes four days in a row of riding at Baldface Lodge. Yup, I ponied up for a big trip this year and now I take some unexpected time off. Not what I had in mind. The good news is, I'm getting better. I'm going to try to ride Sunday. Brave the crowd and take a couple pow turns. If not, I'll be the lodge lizard. No shame in that.

Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds.

So, until I get back out there, does anyone know anything about hurt ribs? My doctor (yeah, it was so bad I went to see a doctor. It was so bad I couldn't even play ski-ball without pain) was about as useful as a football bat. He poked me, I said it hurt. They x-rayed me, said it wasn't broken. Take two of these if it hurts too much to sleep. Useless. Meanwhile, I look in the mirror and my left ribs don't even look like my right ribs and I'm wondering, which ones are the spare ribs and which ones are the baby backs?

Bored Yak does not endorse cannibalism

Anyway, enough self pity. I hope everyone else is happy and healthy and shredding that pow. And for those of you also hurting, I pour a little out for you, too.