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