Time to admit it...

Hi, my name is Rick, and I'm a blogaholic. I haven't blogged in 11 days.

[Chorus] Hi, Rick.

It's really hard... real life. You know, it was great being on vacation, when I had something to say, and had some time in the evening when I could compose my thoughts, and be funny and creative...but at work it just isn't the same.

I've been wandering around, trying to figure out what to do next with nothing worth writing about in my blog. Work is so boring. I'm thinking of taking a hit of Facebook, just to ... ya know... get a quick taste and get myself goin' again.

[Chorus] No, Rick, hang in there ....

But ... you know... all my family and what few friends I have left are on Facebook. Can it really be that bad?
H-E-L-L-O-O? Where's the harm? Will you...will you be my friend? Or maybe, I can be yours? I'm all a-twitter....
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[cue the closing music] Well, folks, there's an end to another sad story, as well as a wasted week. Join us again next time when Rick says, "What do you mean your MySpace page won't accept my posts?"

Vacation - Sad Saturday

We awoke Saturday to the prospect of returning to the land of sea level and real world humidity. Time to head home for good (for now).

All was packed up, so we (which is to say, I) couldn’t make that one last run down Bighorn …. ah, well, we had beaten that horse pretty good. The east coast group loaded up in the car—the California crew got to stay until 1 PM—and headed north.

But not before one last tour of the house and a picture to remember it by:

I turned in the car, so we met in the airport restaurant for lunch and to kill some time until the respective flights. I did manage to get my bottle of Moose Drool for my collection, to go with the T-shirt Jane had gotten me. And, even though it is a Montana icon, I wasn’t that fond of Moose Drool. The shirt looks cool though.

The flight was great. We had the exit row, and the time…pardon the pun…flew by. The departure out of Minneapolis was running late, but we were not dismayed because we had gotten the exit row again. Yes! The only problem was that Evie and Rosa were going to pick us up in Tampa; what started as a 10:40 arrival was quickly inching towards midnight. Jane managed to call them off before they left, so we were left to our own devices. Little did we know….

The easiest thing to do was to call the same service that had taken us to the airport at the beginning of the trip. So I did. No problem, he said.

We arrived to find our driver dressed in the most bizarre clash of patterns I have seen in 20 years. He said everyone called him “Duck” because of his obsession with waterfowl. The dashboard of his Lincoln was covered from side to side with what can best be described as “rubber duckies.” We, of course, got to listen to all of Duck’s life story—seems that fatigued travelers are the prime target for this type of indignity.

Upon reaching the house, we paid Duck and received, as a token of his gratitude for the tip, a beautiful calendar of—what else?—ducks in various angles of flight. Wow. But the best part of the homecoming? The house key that was supposed to be in the laundry room wasn’t. My keys were in the house, as were Jane’s. Now, the dilemma we faced at 1AM was difficult. Jane’s mom most likely had the extra key, but we couldn’t drive the cars over to get it because, obviously, the car keys were in the house. None of the other people who might be able to help were awake (we called some). The housesitter conscientiously locks the doors and buttons up the windows every time he leaves. Great. Soon we discovered one that wasn’t battened down and Jane managed to squeeze through it. Whew! Home again.

Vacation - Final Friday

Friday the 13^th… and our last day to ride … a day to be extra careful. Well, not so much. The marrieds went to Yellowstone for a snowmobile tour, leaving Laura to sit for the twins and Pierce, and Brant and me to uphold the family honor on the slopes. A slowish start gave us some time to play with the girls,

and save what was left of the legs. We decided to stay on the lower mountain, which meant Ponderosa, Elk Park Ridge and Bighorn; I had fleeting thoughts of going back to the near top of Lone Peak for another crack at the black run under the lift, this time without the fog, but $140 in lift tickets for both of us wasn’t worth the one run. A few blue runs and we were hungering for powder, so….what else to do but head to Lone Moose? We did manage to discover an easier way to get there, with less skating, but too late for this trip. Next time.

Once there, it was Little Dogie over and over, mining all the powder we could find (which was a lot). The snow on the sides had been pushed up like curbs, so we would get up some speed, zip up into the side stuff and ride until a reasonable jump back to the main run presented itself. Wow! I was pleasantly surprised that my knee didn’t seem to mind these little drops/jumps, but then, it’s not like we got huge air or anything. Just high speed plops from about a foot high; still a special feeling to land on powder and not crash. It was so magnificent, to have this powder playground all to ourselves. We were stoked.

I even found the crevice that had jammed my foot earlier and was playing with it as I swooped by. It caught me by surprise on one run, and I had to bail out into a small tree, almost horseshoe-like (it was a ringer, not a leaner). But I dug out, and went up again, determined not to let that landscape beat me. The next run I swished through the same spot, but swung around the little tree--and through the rut I had made digging out of the snow, almost like a luge. It was a thrill.

We discovered another cute little jump that we failed to conquer completely, but not for lack of trying.

Here I am, sashaying slowly in front of the camera. Unfortunately, the slope was a bit slow at that point, so you can't see the full scope of my snowboarding acumen.

Alas, all good things come to an end, and we had to head back. A bittersweet descent on old faithful Silver Knife, to get to the iced over road that let us slide back to the house. Two minor falls, but managed to protect the knees.

Then the kids came back, and told stories and showed videos of bison, elk, etc. from their Yellowstone visit. It sounded like fun. In fact, here's a photo that pretty well sums it all up:

Tracy was cold.

Tracy's ski pole injury had not fully healed (note right eye)

There were bison.

There was steam.

What else could you ask for?

Then it was time to pack.

Vacation - Third Base Thursday

Rounding third, heading for home....

Thursday was a slow day. I think I was up late playing Star Wars on the Wii the night before, so it was hard to get up. And, of course, my legs were tired. I did some work as well, so it was just after noon when we finally got out. Laura had gotten a rash from the hottub, so she volunteered to stay home with the kids while Andrea & Brian went out in the morning. Pete and Tracy were having fun playing in the snow with Pierce, but they and Brant and I were happy to go find A&B for a last hookup. (A,B, T, and P are going to Yellowstone tomorrow.)

We caught up with them on the back side of the mountain and took a few green runs (another run down Ponderosa, where Tracy had fallen earlier in the week). Andrea had spoken of the powder on Sacajewa (an unremarkable green) so we went that way—only to find cut up mush with little powder on the sides. So I suggested we head over to the Lone Moose lift, where hardly anyone goes and the powder is ubiquitous. I suppose I should have state more strongly the tough route to get there, but…hey, everyone loves powder. Here we are, pre-trek.

One way to get there was Bighorn, once a favorite of mine, but now routinely cut up and mushy; it was not great today either, and the girls had a rough time of it. Tracy made the mistake of following me up and over a little hill and, in short order, slide off the main trail a bit. It was surreal. I had gone up very high on the edge of a hill to watch everyone’s progress—I felt responsible since Lone Moose had been my idea—and got to see, almost as with celestial clarity, Tracy go off uphill and Pete execute a textbook faceplant farther downhill. Bizarre.

We eventually made it to the trail leading to the LM lift, but no one was happy about the longness nor the flatness of it. (I believe I described this part of the mountain in an earlier post.) But once we got there, the run itself was … outstanding! Just as earlier in the week, hardly anyone had been on it. We pushed over to Little Dogie and found several inches of powder in the middle of the run, and at least a foot or more of it on the sides of the trail. Andrea, who had been out all day and was tired and ready to go home, got excited at the end; she caught a little air and landed safely with a loud whoop. The guys loved it as well; only Tracy had a spot of trouble. Once again, she followed me and Brant into the deep powder on the sides of the run (instead of just enjoying the easier stuff in the middle), and discovered the fundamental difference between skis and snowboards. The lesson involved catching an edge and plunging face first—or so the report goes—into the deep stuff. Fortunately, the rest of were taking turns being the cow’s tail, so Brian was there to help her dig out; nonetheless, swimming through powder is tiring.

B&A were ready to head home to relieve Laura, so they headed home while the rest of us pointed back to Little Dogie for one more powder shot. Unbelievably, they had strung a rope across the run and put up “Area Closed” signs—we still had 15 minutes before the lift closed! Given my experience with Area Closed signs, I paused…but only a moment. The others went on, but Brant & I would not be deterred by a little tape. Under and down we went, for another exhilarating run to catch the last lift up. Then on towards home.

Brant resting at Lone Moose hairpin turn.

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We had just enough time to blast down Ambush (the steep blue run next to the half-pipe) and catch our final run up the Ramcharger lift. I still don’t know how we made the run so quickly, but every time I looked back to see Brant gaining on me, I gritted my teeth and pressed on. Damn, that kid is quick. And he has young legs to boot. Guess I’ll have to find some nice trees to drag him through….

Vacation - Wonderful Wednesday

Having bought two lift tickets for Moonlight Basin—the sister resort to Big Sky—made it imperative that we go during the trip. Brant had heard from the bartender that Moonlight was the place to go for powder, and it had been snowing for a few days.

It was long trip on a relatively flat cattrack, but we finally got there (with a wrong turn or two that made for lots of skating). Moonlight has one very long lift (a six-seater) and several smaller ones. If you like steep double diamond blacks, you just need to take Six Shooter once and you’re at the bowls. We, on the other hand, liked the powdery blues that ran off the big lift and rode it several times.

The first (and best) run was down the Stillwater Bowl, navigating our way through thigh-high powder that would make a Utah skier envious. In fact, the last time we had a run like that was in the back bowl at Solitude almost 2 years ago. Spectacular. You might be able to see the level of powder here.

The next lift took us higher, but we had trouble finding a blue run that didn’t end in a long flat stretch. The closest was Meriwether, a middling long trail with some personality. And lots of powder on the edges. We had some great runs. As we tried to find the terrain park, we ran into some unavoidable black runs—wouldn’t have been too bad if I hadn’t skipped off the top of a mogul on my heels, only to get folded in half upon hitting the next one. That was an ouch. Fortunately, my knee (and ribcage) held up and we struggled on, finding some nice powder right under the lift line.

It was getting late and time to begin the long, tedious ride back to the main village at Big Sky. I had chatted up a local a few days ago and asked about Moonlight. He allowed that it had some nice runs, but not enough variety to warrant more than a day’s attention. I am not sure I agree with him, as there were several conquerable black runs we might have tried on another day, but I would agree that two days is more than enough to cover that side. And if there is a powder dump…the low trail to people ratio is hard to beat. The good news is that they plan to expand shortly, increasing the draw to the “largest ski area in America,” as they say. I would go back, but not just for MB.

The ride back was tiring but uneventful, at least until Brant got off-trail and looked to be heading down a steep glade (trans., place with trees tightly packed, frequented by expert skiers/riders or idiots, or both). Discretion turned out to be the better part, so he climbed out and we motored on to catch the last lift home.

We got back in time for me to collapse, then get cleaned up—Jane and I were going out to dinner. A night out for the folks, leaving the kids at home! We went to the same dinner extravaganza that Pam and Dave had enjoyed, although the temperature had fallen a bit since their trip. The crew picked us up at the bottom of the hill, and ferried everyone halfway up the mountain in Snowcats—large tank-like tractors.

Then we were hustled into a warm, round tent called a Yurt (which, by the way, happened to be the winning word in an earlier Scrabble contest). I’m sure I could find the derivation of it if I cared to, but a picture is worth a lot more, so here are two.

Then some fools went sledding next to the yurt. I was really surprised at this, because there hadn’t been nearly enough time for anyone to get liquored up to the degree needed to cause a sane human being to get on those things. But, miraculously, no one was injured and dinner proceeded. Filet Mignon, expertly cooked, with various trimmings, topped off by a chocolate fondue. An excellent meal, to be sure.

Despite the folk singer.

On the trip down the mountain, we decided to ride on top of the Snowcat instead of inside; it was more enjoyable than the ride up, unless you dislike sliding all around on a slick, freezing cold metal roof as the tractor lurches down the trail. But the view was excellent. Didn’t see any animals.

Vacation - Toned Down Tuesday

Took the day off today. Woke up with a sore knee and (somewhat) sore legs. Thought this would be a good day to rest, building up to a crescendo the last 3 days. Jane and I went shopping for things, especially dinner, as today was my Dad's birthday. For the last few trips, we have been celebrating his birthday on the slopes, so tonight we had steaks and wine that was way more expensive than he ever would have bought. We owe it all to him.

I bought some postcards, so those will need some attention. I don't want to end up with my usual mail-them-at-the-airport-on-the-way-home trick.

Vacation - Monday, Monday

Was snowing again this morning....Pete, Tracy and I went out in the morning and fooled around on the backside of Andesite all morning. Never having to go down to the village, we ended up without lift tickets--an obvious flaw in the Big Sky system. Never fear, Brant and I cashed in the vouchers for the afternoon...balance was restored to the universe.

Our afternoon started with a trip over to the Shedhorn lift; this was not an inconsiderable effort. A long runout to get to it made me think of Lone Moose, and I verbalized that there better be some great runs to make this worthwhile. The trails looked great from the lift, but, oddly enough, they were icy under the powder, and we struggled down until we had a choice of a black diamond run or a long runout to the base. Of course, we took the black run. It was marvelous, not too steep with lots of little treelets dotting the landscape for us to navigate around. Then it ended with a trail closed sign.

My earlier experience with closed runs led us to veer off onto another trail that looked fine from the top, but soon became mogul Hell. I looked back later and found it was named Jock Strap. How fitting. We finally made it down, and insane fools that we are, went back up to find the blue slope we had been searching for previously. The fact that visibility was almost zero and the upper part of the slope was littered with rocks didn't seem to faze us. And, in fairness, it was a wonderful run we eventually found, covered with deep powder and only a few buried rocks. But that was it for us with Shedhorn. (Looking at the bottom of my board, it should have been called Shred-horn.)

The long run back to the main village lifts was the fastest I have ever been on, so much so as to be dangerous. Like a beautiful woman--fast, narrow and curvy. I did have to ride up the inside slope to avoid someone, and found a nasty pile of rocks. BIG ding in my board. Oh, well, it's old.

Brant and I eventually found our way over to the terrain park and discovered that there was lots of good powder left on the sides. (The middle had large jumps and rails, plus a huge half-pipe: we stayed on the sides.) It was great until Brant and I got separated; I ended up in the park again and he got stuck on a black diamond in the forest with moguls. Ouch!

A missed trail on the way home added another 50 yards of hiking by the time we found our way back to the real slope and headed home. My fault, I suppose, and not well received by the fool who followed me down it. Oops.

All in all, a great day.

Vacation - Second Sunday

Ah, yet another Sunday to enjoy. Brant and I went out, not so early, but before noon. Had some fun runs in the remains of the powder, especially on Bighorn. A beautiful day--bluebird skies, warm enough to be comfortable...and, as usual, Lone Peak dominated the skyline. I hadn't seen this view before (we were on a different lift than customary)....

Everyone else was settling in...Pete and Tracy were hanging out, Laura watched the girls, and Brian and Andrea went out to the Explorer lift for a little shredding. Brant and I managed to meet them for the last few runs, and had a great time.

Laura had been baking a cake all day, and Pierce was helping with the frosting (as children are wont to do). I had no clue that the celebration was an early one for my birthday. The trip, after all, was partly an early birthday event. To my utter amazement, the kids came up from the lower level singing Happy Birthday, and all wearing special shirts for the occasion.

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Group Photo

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The front logo says "Shredding at Sixty"

and the back says:

For the first time in a very long while, I was speechless. Happy Birthday indeed!

Vacation - Swapout Saturday

Today was the Coyles' last day, and the first day for the Loescher, Stockton, Schwartz crew. It was a bit of a panic as the Coyles were trying to check in (with a 50+ group from a ski club ahead of them) while Pete, Tracy, Pierce and Brant were arriving at another gate.

Departure

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Arrivalacer

We muddled through and headed off to lunch--another exciting experience at McKenzie River Pizza! Then on to Walmart for the second half supplies. Picked up the Schwartzes and Laura at the airport (Laura flirted with the car rental guy and we got our additional driver for the week free). On to the house and settling in. The girls are precious, and Pierce is such a cute little adult.

Found this in the garage:

Vacation - Fabulous Friday

Friday, Friday, Friday. Ever notice how the weekend loses a bit of emphasis when you're on vacation (and every day is Saturday)? Pam and Dave and the kids had to leave today, but that didn't stop Dave from dragging me out for a few runs this morning. That's dedication.

As we were getting ready to go out, it started snowing (we got dusted the night before). Lightly at first, as it is wont to do, but by the time we suited up, it was falling pretty heavy. Sideways (not a good sign). But we persevered and hit the lift shortly after it opened (well, 9:30 anyway). A few green runs to warm up were in order—even the busiest runs still had good powder left. As it got later, it was time for the fish or cut bait runs—the blues to the house. We took Tippy's Tumble to warm up, then back down Silver Knife, which is the most direct to get to the house (leads to the road). Dave was doing really well, and is now officially a Shredder.

They left with Jane and I went back out around noon. Still snowing like…well, you know. I tried an old standby blue and a new one that had looked good, but was disappointed in both. Who knew the powder would have been ridden out by lunch? This place is unbelievably empty. So I said to myself, self, if I were a powder hound, which I am, where would I look for fresh untracked powder late on a snowy day like today? Only one answer: Lone Moose.

This is a peculiar set of runs under a short lift, and very hard to get to. The only access is a long, flat trail that even goes slightly uphill for about 60 yards. It has only about 5 runs (not counting the access track), with 2 green and 3 black. The mountain has too many other black trails to justify coming over, and the green skiers don't care to expend such energy for two runs. Hence, it is hardly used at all. This means lots of powder goes to waste. But not by me…I rode the dickens out of those two green runs this afternoon. Even the runout to the lift had broad expanses of soft snow all along it…very unusual. One run—the higher one—was so unpopular there were only 3 or 4 tracks on the entire run; it was pure powder, from the sides to the middle. I was in heaven. Nothing is so wonderful to a free-ride snowboarder than a clean sweep of deep powder. Some of this stuff was up to my knees as I ripped through it—fantastic! However, some of it came up to my elbows as I collapsed into it from time to time. All in all, I probably spent about 30 minutes extricating myself from the holes I made in the powder with my butt. Fun to ride, but tiring, and if you hit a bump that isn't obvious, sploosh. My last ride down to that lift, I was happily running through the edge of the trees in the deep stuff and missed the turn I needed to make; instead, I shot up over a little mound and landed in a small crevice, jamming my front foot and spilling me yet again. As I look back on that, it could have been so much worse than the temporarily sore toe I got. Many thanks to the snow gods (once again).

Here are some shots from Lone Moose:

Top of the hill

Halfway down the run

Feeling utterly exhausted and rubber-legged (I got some relief by Reikiing my thighs for a while), I hooked up with Mike, who had come out late. A few blue runs and time to go in. Mike is doing well, but needs confidence… and a lesson. Not this trip.

Came home, had a beer, took a nap….now time for bed. I need to be fresh for the 2 hours I have in the morning before heading to the airport to drop off the Coyles and pick up my darling children and grandchildren. Can't wait.

Vacation - Timeout Thursday

Not sure why I chose today to take a day off, but I did. I got started on emails and work upon awakening, so that might have been it. My legs were like rubber...that could be the reason. Or my knee feelin' smartass with me. There's always the 3 blisters on each ankle that decided to pop all at once. There are so many possible causes. But I did take the day off, and that's what counts.

More work done today than most days at home. Still lots to do, so I may take another day off next week too. Other lesser things that soaked up time were:
(1) futzing with my MP3 players to get a kickin' playlist for tomorrow and beyond. I like to have uptempo stuff in the morning when I need the encouragement (Shredhard), and more mellow stuff in the afternoon when I should be taking it easy (Shredsoft). But with 4 players (not counting both phones) it gets complicated. Got to figure out which is the easiest to fill up--I think I want to mix and match some new stuff as well. Hoo-hah.
(2) Lunch. Always a good idea.
(3) Sledding down the driveway and, ultimately, the road in front of the house. Somewhat fun, but not as much as boarding. The little kids had a ball though. Here's what it looked like (mostly):


And here's one of what the neighborhood looks like:


Supposed to snow tomorrow....here's hoping.

Vacation - Whoa, Wednesday

Sadly, I did not make it back to the beautiful powder-filled forest described yesterday, but made up for it this afternoon. Today was my latest departure yet, despite my recurring resolutions to get out earlier. Maybe my body knew it wanted a half-day. I hit the slopes by myself about noon, and started over to the far east of the mountain. I wanted to try that run at the top again, the one we got hosed on in the fog. Turns out that run wasn't the one we previously took—we had gotten off onto a black run instead! The blue run at the top was boring—little character at all, and icy. I think I may go back and try the black run again, but early in the day so it isn't foggy or shaded. Here is what it looks like up there.


I did go over to look at the Blue Moon Chalet, which is near Moonlight Basin. It looked from the outside a magnificent place, right on the slopes. And I mean ON the slopes. I hope to get back and take a picture or two, but I am glad we got this place instead. All the houses on that side are nice, but they are off the main path. It is hard to get to Blue Moon from the main village, and harder to get back—lots of long steep trails, hard on the legs and not much fun. We are in a much better position in the overall scheme of the mountain. Hooray!

I did quite a few runs by myself in the early afternoon, and found my legs hurting like a …. well, you know. I was going to go green for a while, but Dave called and had finished a lunch meeting with the mountain manager, so he was ready to go. We decided to go over to Lone Moose—the area we were trying to get to yesterday—and that required a blue run. But it was a fantastic blue run, and we made uneventfully. The Lone Moose area is essentially the red-haired stepchild of the mountain because it is hard to get to and has only 3 blacks and 2 greens, one of which is a nasty runout. One green run? Why bother? Ah, but there's the key. No one goes to the green except the beginners who live right there. And those folks stay in the middle of the run mostly. It hasn't snowed since Monday, but there were swatches of powder on the edges of the run that were all but untouched. A few tracks, of course, but plenty of powder (though stale) left to float. Even Dave discovered what powder was all about. And the run was otherwise very pretty, with some drops and minor steeps, though I spent most of my time in the pow. Fantastic!

Then we had to go in. The ski patrol—a couple of cute little chickies, though very aloof—followed us down, as we were the last ones to make the run. In fact, we were probably the last ones on that entire section of the mountain. The lift at the bottom stayed open an extra 5 minutes just for us. Woo-hoo.

We returned to meet the rest of the crew at 4:30. A sleigh ride had been scheduled for everyone. Ouch. I had dressed for a warm day on the hill, and forgot we would be in the open air later (in the dark). The ride was early enough that it turned out not to be a big problem, and the girls brought a few beers from the house as anti-freeze. It was mercifully short, though you could say it bore a passing resemblance to fun. At least for the younger set.

Now the hot tub, and then to bed.

Vacation - Terrific Tuesday

An uneventful morning. Woke up about 7:30, just in time to read and respond to some emails from the office. With all the white stuff around, I should be concerned that I can't seem to get out to the slopes before 11. I have decided it is my body's way of protecting me—if I got out early, I'd be wiped out by 4 (quitting early is never an option…I always want to get the last lift up. Today I was on the 4th chair from the last).

No powder today, except what I could find on the edges of the runs or in the woods (that's another story….later). I was riding with Dave and Mike, so we hit the green runs on the back as warmups. At the top of the first lift, Mike's binding broke—bummer—so he went back down. Dave and I tried to get to a slightly remote lift and found that you don't want to take a wrong turn under the Thunderwolf lift. It was grisly. Or maybe Grizzly. Moguls the size of … of… well, anyway they were ugly. We were so wiped out, we didn't get to the Lone Moose lift.

While futzing around, I had found a beautiful blue run (Bighorn) and hit it a few times while Dave and Mike took off looking for something flatter. It was beautiful, smooth, and a tad steep. Makes you glad to be alive!
After a late lunch, more fooling around until the last run. The girls were going to pick us up at the bottom, so naturally we went to the top for one more pass through the small terrain park. (I had hit a medium-sized jump coming down earlier and got a sharp hello from my knee, so I won't be jumping the rest of the week—maybe not the rest of the trip.) The wackiest part of the last run came when I nearly cleaned Dave off the slope. Well, actually, I did, but not in the worst way. I was up hill and he was cutting across towards the trees. Slowly. So I did the geometry in my head and figured he'd have to turn soon, hopefully before I got there. I was running at about 80% right on the edge of the slope. He hadn't turned. Closer, faster. Still no turn. Now the math got a bit trickier, but I was feeling good about my chances of getting by him before he hit the trees or I hit him. Ten feet. No turn yet. Five. I just might make it—where the hell is he going? The thought occurred to me, subconciously, that I was committed to my path--to turn now or try to stop would have caused a collision for sure. Got to go for it. (In hindsight, I might have yelled to Dave, but my brain was preoccupied doing math and geometry calculations.) I was close to full speed now, and needing every bit of it. I suspect that the back of my board missed the front of his by inches. I was going too fast to look back, but I did pull up to see if he was OK. No Dave in sight. I yelled. A muffled reply emerged from the trees. It seems Dave got a bit flustered when some asshole went roaring by him and ended up with a faceplant in the powder off the trail. He did manage to miss the trees though. I waited downslope with Mike for Dave to dust himself off (he had to unhook to get out) and slide down to us. The first thing he said was, "Did you see that asshole who cut me off? I'm going to find him in the lodge and…." To which Mike and I both responded that I was that asshole. A disaster averted, but I gave both of them more room from then on.

They say justice can sometimes be swift. ♪ Instant karma gonna get you… ♪ Near the end of the last stretch before the bottom, I saw some beautiful powder just off in the trees. These were little bitty trees, no more than 6-8 feet tall, hardly big enough to qualify, but they were spaced nicely and surrounded by deep powder. Very deep, it turns out. I was rocking, having a great run, cutting through other people's tracks and juking the trees, loving the powder. Then I caught an edge on one of those tracks and toppled butt first, off the track, in the snow. If you have ever been dumped unceremoniously in deep snow with fiberglass thingies attached to your feet, you can appreciate the problem. Every time I put my hand down to push up, I sank to my elbow; I finally managed to got one foot unhooked and tried to stand—I sank to above my knee. Hmmm…. quite an interesting situation. I was the last man out on the hill (the ski patrol had been right up our butts, and I was now off trail and invisible), with people waiting for me but not knowing where I was. Fortunately it wasn't dark, and was too populated for bears. So as not to bore anyone with my further thrashing about, the short of it is I managed to get my board all the way off and rode it like a surfboard down the quasi-carved trail (through the trees—that was a hoot) until I got to a place where I could stand up and strap-in my front foot. A piece of cake from there. As frustrating as that episode was, the ride up to that point was worth it, and it was a lot less stressful than the last ride I took yesterday. I'll have to be more careful tomorrow.

Vacation - Happy Monday

Upon waking, I found it snowing. A good sign. We got to the lifts about 11 (got to fix that) and immediately hit the powder. It was not spectacular, but still magnificent. More blues, darker blues, my gradual expansion to reach full potential and Dave's learning at an accelerated pace. Very much akin to the progression Brantley had between our trip to Vail (when he hurt his foot) and the 2006 Snowmass trip, but on a smaller scale. The name of the game is speed control. Met up folks and did a few runs in between the lessons for the munchkins, and had lunch (excellent—at MRHummers). Then Dave and I went to the almost top—one lift short—and took the blue run down from there. I can't recall riding in such conditions in a very long time, if ever. The run was reasonably steep and had some interesting slopes, but the visibility was ZIP. I could barely see the tip of my board. I could only tell when to turn by how much speed I was getting—not a comforting feeling. We managed to get out of the clouds with no injuries and only a few falls, and the rest of the run was excellent. I am looking forward to doing that one again later in the trip when I can see where I'm going (and with Brant).

The next hookup was with Laura and Tim, who were skiing. We fiddled around on some green runs and I was playing with some 360s. Kid stuff. Except for that tree I couldn't get around. Seems I zigged when I should have zagged. But I was going slow and it caught just the front of the board so no harm done, except to my ego. This one was a real tree, about 6" in diameter, not the little saplings I had been abusing yesterday. I tried a little switch (riding reversed), but, except for the Ride Through the Clouds, the only times I have really fallen are when I'm riding switch, and then always on my butt. Dave has a helmet, but I just need a mouthpiece. A little blood in the mouth in the morning…..

When Laura and Tim went home the easy way, Dave and I decided to try the run just above the house (War Dance), to see (i) if it was a reasonable way down at the end of the day and (ii) what type of black diamond it really was. We arrived at the trailhead to find ropes and an Area Closed sign. That should have been a clue that, just maybe, we should reconsider. Of course not! We can sideslip anything (or so we thought). The first part of the run was tricky but not very steep, and we weren't too concerned until we got to…."the Ledge." Looking down what seemed a vertical slope, with its dotting of tree roots and small pines, we began to have second thoughts. Maybe walking down was a good idea. OK, fine, let's walk. Dave took off his board and, for lack of a leash, it shot down the hill like nothing I have ever seen. It caromed off moguls and trees and picked up speed in a terrifying fashion until the last jump, a flipping, twisting crash into the snow. Spectacular… but…uh-oh. Now what to do. Of course we did the only possible thing for two macho studs trapped in a life threatening situation—we slid down the hill on our butts. Lest you think this was easy, I should say that this entire run was covered with powder that in places was probably 2 to 3 feet deep. We planned our descent to be able to collide with pine trees in case we got sliding out of control. The avalanche gates (did I mention those?) were very helpful in slowing our descent. Roughly 2/3rds of the way down it was less steep and I strapped in again, only to find Dave had climbed halfway back up to rescue his board. A lesson indeed! If the trail is closed…this means YOU (or me anyway). We parted with Tim and Laura about 4 PM and got back to the house at 5:45, snow-covered, tired, and much wiser. But smiling. There's snowboarding for fun, and snowboarding for survival.

Vacation - Super Sunday

Getting up at 9 didn't insure timely departure for the slope (big surprise). Eventually out at 11, but rocking it from the get-go. Dave and I tried to stay on the mountain where the house is, and found some lovely green runs to get started. I was comfortable all day, even though we came home for lunch and a little imbibing. Dave did his first (intentional) blue, and was picking it up logarithmically (as many snowboarders tend to do). I helped. Really a fun day, light to get started, and no broken bones. (I had a little run-in with a very small tree, and possibly bruised my thumb, but that's an unnecessary digit for snowboarding.) No jumps to speak of, though I was tempted to try the small terrain park while the little ones were tubing. That's a hoot. Fortunately, it was at the end of the day and common sense took over. The day ended with the exciting finale of the Superbowl! What a game. (see Cornbread Pyramid for further details of that).