Green Ski, Blue Board

Here's an oddity I observed while riding lately: Some blue (intermediate) trails are easier for me than some green (beginners) trails.

One green trail took a spiral-staircase descend down the hill. In some ways, it resembled a catwalk, though there was only one truly flat section.

But it wasn't the flat that was my chief problem. It was the relative thinness of the trail. Off to one side: the drop-off into a ravine. On the other edge of the rail: the edge of a mountain. (OK, hill.)

It's a mental game, I guess. I( can make tight turns on fairly open trails when I want to. But put me in a situation when tight control is required, and I get nervous, and bothered.

The Biggest Obstacle to Learning Snowboarding: Confidence on Skis

Recently I had a pleasant chairlift chat with a man who has four children. They're all into snow sports (two riders, two skiers). He mentioned that he has thought of trying snowboarding, but he has yet to do it.

His biggest obstacle: he's pretty good on skis. He doesn't want go through the difficulty of being a beginner again. Or of falling down.

I assured him that he would fall down, a lot, while learning. One way to make the process easier is to go out on a powder day.

But in the end, to learn, you've got to be willing to start all over again. It will take a while for it to seem worthwhile, but if you stick with it, you may reach that point. I know I have.

These Boots Are Made for Walking. So is the Board.

Here's one advantage of snowboarding over skiing: it's a lot easier to carry snowboarding gear when you're lost.

Today I went to a ski area that has several non-contiguous parking lots. At the end of the day, I headed to what the parking lot that I thought was either the one my car was in, or close to it.

Wrong.

I looked in the parking lot. My car was nowhere to be found. So I kept walking to the next lot. Nope. And another. Wrong.

Eventually I found my car, after I forget how much walking. But it was not a strenuous walk by any means. I could easily carry my board, and walking in the snowboarding boots was not a problem.

Now, substitute "two heavy skis plus two poles" for "snowboard," and "ski boots" for "snowboarding boots," and you have yet another advantage for snowboarding.

Hydration Staves Off Hunger

I don't know why, but riding makes me hungry in a way that skiing never does. Probably because it has, historically, taken more effort.

But there's one way I have found to make sure that I'm not craving a large bag of M&Ms. Water. Lots of water. My Camelback is my friend, and taking a sip on the lift seems to delay my need to eat.

Drink water.

Ride more.

Why Spring is Ugly

We are now approaching my least-favorite time of year: Spring. Yes, there's all that lovely birds-and-bees stuff, with birds returning from the South, and bees pollinating flowers. But gardening has never been my thing, so Spring is just another word for "too warm to ski, too cold to golf." Or more succinctly, "mud."

Last year my last day of skiing was St. Patrick's Day, March 17. No green snow, just a whitish-grayish slop that barely covered the ground. In all, I skied five times last March, and none of those times was memorable for any good reason.

SNOWBOARDING VERSUS GOLF
All this brings me to golf. Yesterday I was shoveling a patch of the driveway that has been untouched for a while, when a young man came through the neighborhood selling discount coupons for a nearby golf course. It's a fairly scrappy course, and it's not at all an attractive one. Little tree coverage, barely one pond, and hardly any change in elevation. It's good for my super-high-handicap game, of course, but not for the visual and aesthetic stimulation that occurs on a fine course.

But then again, Old Scrapper doesn't have the $75 greens fees that would make playing there a waste of money and time. So, despite my general rule against buying from solicitors, I bought the coupons. I should recoup my purchase price and actually save some money on my third or fourth outing of the year. Since O.S. generally opens in April, I can start working towards "saving money" soon.

Generally, golf is more expensive than skiing or snowboarding. You can buy a cheap set of gear for either sport at roughly the same price, and if you match quality-for-quality, a daily lift ticket is roughly the same price as the fees for an 18-hole round of golf. It's harder to make a comparison based on season passes, but it's fair to say that if you make the appropriate adjustments (length and quality of golf course, size of ski area), a season pass for either sport is roughly the same price.

Still, it's probably time to remember the Top 10 Reasons Why Snowboarding is Better Than Golf.

At Least Ski Boots Don't Have Droopy Laces

A while ago on the Grays on Trays discussion board we talked about BOA-equipped snowboarding boots. In brief, with these boots, you don't tie laces, you simply turn a dial, and the laces (wires, really) are tightened for you.

By contrast, laces on snowboarding boots seem to be at least a foot longer than they need to be. Worse, an unlaced set of strings may turn out two feet long (or longer) meaning that they are likely to get dropped in the parking lot mud (as you get into or out of the boots). The things are so long, at least in my case, that I nearly trip on them as I carry them out to the car.

The answer to the latter problem is to stuff the laces inside the boots, but BOA boots would take care of these problems altogether.

Now if I would only get some more money into the snowboarding budget to pay for them.

The Joys of FedEx

A short time ago, a FedEx delivery guy dropped off the last of my gear from the trip out West. What a great service.

Since I was going to use both skis and a board, I had a lot of stuff to transport out there: a briefcase (with computer), a large suitcase, skis, ski boots, a board, and boarding boots.

Thanks to my boarding bag, all my boarding stuff fit into one package. A second package was my ski tube. At that point, I would have been over the airline limit, meaning my suitcase would cost me another $50 each way ($100 round trip). That's assuming that I used my briefcase as a "personal item" and lugged the 15 pound bag of ski boots with me. But I was not going to repeat that painful trek of last year.

So I took checked my snowboarding bag and suitcase on the airplane, and used my briefcase as my carry-on. All manageable. I used FedEx to ship my ski boots (boxed up) and skis (in a hard-shell travel tube) to and from Aspen. Total cost for both items, round trip: $50.

Upside: I got to try out both sports at a minimal transportation cost. I also saved my shoulders from lugging a heavy boot bag around the airport.

Downside: I had to take my ski stuff to a FedEx office on both ends of the trip. Given the value of my time, I might have done just as well to pay the excess baggage fee to the airline. On the other hand, it was nice to not have to deal with so many pieces of luggage at one time.

Midwestern Options Are Not Pretty

One of my local areas is already selling passes for next season. I'm comparing the options among areas within a short driving distance. One is slightly larger, but another has a deeper vertical drop--though it's not a difference any normal person would recognize. Ten feet, I think. But even a hundred feet, which would make a difference around here, would be unnoticeable in the Rockies.

But such is the plight of us in the Midwest. Still, it beats eating potato chips on the couch.

We've Moved!

The Grays on Trays blog has moved to the standard Grays on Trays website. Please visit www.graysontrays.com/blog.

You're Wearing My Dress!

Once the two "new" guys met up with me today, I noticed that one of them was using the same make and model of board that I had. The only difference was that it was a few centimeters shorter. (He was using different bindings, too.) We joked about prom dresses (what if someone else buys the same one?) and contests of elimination ("I'm sorry, but one of you is going to have to leave"). Does anyone else have a Heelside Retro, especially in blue and black?

Midwestern Powder: Yes, It's True

When I looked at the web site of my newly favorite local ski area, it said that five new inches of snow were on the ground. Yeehaw!

The day reminded me of how good powder can be, and that it is too bad we don't have it here more often. I tooled around all types of runs--wide open, trees, greens, blacks, and even the terrain park. OK, so I only thought of sliding on the funbox, but I was there.

Also enjoyable: happening upon four fellow "grays." I started out meeting only two of the group, and the three of us rode around for about 45 minutes until we got separated from each other. But here's one odd thing: all three of us were riding goofy. How often does that happen that three randomly selected riders all have a goofy stance?

After I got separated from the other two, I worked my way across the ski area until, at one edge of it, I met up with the original two, plus two others. It was great to spend some time riding around with all of you! Maybe we will meet up on another day.

Midwestern Powder: On the Ground, Please

What a difference a day makes! After a 5 inch dump last night, I spent much of the day riding in the powder at what may become my favorite local area. But getting there was a challenge.

Of course, the snow that makes for good riding or skiing can make for treacherous driving. It took me a little bit longer than the usual driving time, but the drive was a bit more hairy than usual. Of particular note: the pickup truck driver who passed me, then settled down in my lane, not too far ahead of me, right as I was approaching my exit from the highway. Thanks to your inconsiderate behavior, I could not see the road with enough confidence to know exactly where the exit was. The only thing I could see through the snow you were shedding on my windshield was your tailgate.

My consolation: At least I didn't end up in the ditch from misjudging the exit's location. That and the fact that the next exist was only a mile away.

Midwestern Mess: What a Comedown

Midwest Mess: What a Comedown
I went out to my little Midwestern hill today, but came home after only two runs. I knew it would be a comedown from a trip to the West, but I did not realize how much.

Ice. Bad light. Already small terrain restricted by ropes setting off not one but two racing areas.

I must total up the days I have spent there recently. The season pass may not have been worth it.

Lessons from the Lesson

(This entry may be overly technical for some readers. You've been warned. Also, it's not necessarily useful for everyone. The points here were derived from an analysis of my own riding style, which may not resemble yours. For one thing, I ride "goofy," or right foot forward. That already puts me in the minority of snowboarders.)

Use Foot steering. This technique, which is available only if the board has some flex, provides a feathered approach to edge change. It works on both toe to heel and heel to toe turns. Whichever direction you are turning, make the change in your leading foot first, and your trailing foot slightly thereafter. Think of it in 4/4 time: 1, 2: leading toe, trailing toe; leading heel, trailing heel. At the moment I cannot remember what benefit this delivers, but I know that it works. Nobody in my lessons in the Midwest told me about it; I get the impression that it's a relatively new idea.

Put your knee out. When turning toeside to heelside, push out the leading knee and ankle, and even the toes. By doing this, you are putting more weight over the toeside edge, thus helping the natural sidecut of the board take over and lead you into a turn.

Which brings us to the next point …

As you start to start the toeside to heelside turn, stand up. Why? One, it makes sure that your weight is stacked up properly—shoulder, hips, ankles aligned. Two, it gives you a starting position from which to put the knee out. If you are already in a crouched position, how are you going to get the advantage of sticking out your knee?

Remember, if you’re traversing on the heelside, your weight is going to be on the heelside of the board. And if you then want to turn and ride on the toeside, you’re going to end up with the weight on the toeside of the board.

How do you get there? One way is to stand up, and shift the weight from the heelside of the board to neutral, to (after steering) the toeside of the board.

Steer, then edge. This is of particular use on toeside to heelside turns. There’s that slight moment of fear, when the board is going down the fall line. Then, and only then, do you start the turn (e.g., stick your knee out of the leading foot—which will cause the board to turn from the tip backwards).

Keep your hands low. Avoid the temptation to “fly” with your hands raised high in the air. Yes, you can use it to point in the right direction. But it comes at a price. First, you burn energy by holding your arms up. Two, it robs you of the chance to regain your balance by lifting your arms up in the air when it is required.

By contrast, the school has two figures of speech to describe the practice in-the-air practice. Two hands in the air: bringing home the groceries. One hand in the air: the mystery date.

Try the steering wheel drill: think of a steering wheel at the tip of the board, and keep your hand down there, by the tip, moving the board.

Align your shoulders, hips, and ankles over each other while you are traversing.

Be 50/50. It’s better to lean towards the tip of the board than towards the tail of the board. But it’s better to keep your weight centered from tip to tail. One advantage: it keeps the quads of your leading leg from getting overused.

Tip to the inside of the turn, not the outside of the turn. Lean into the hill rather than down the hill.

Match edge angle with speed. During one of the drills, I washed out on a toeside to heelside turn. Why? I was using a high edge angle, but my speed wasn’t fast enough to support it. A combination of high angle and low speed means that you are pushing the board out of the snow—not what you want to do.

Use subtle movements. Make “progressive” movements, not sudden ones. Think of it as analogue rather than digital. Gradual, not on/off.

When riding toeside, do not be too quick to look downhill. Look where you are going. So when I am traversing toeside, look toward the tip, and don’t be so quick to look over your shoulder to look downhill. That will cause your board’s tail to … turn in the wrong way.

Take advantage of your stance. For me, the toeside to heelside turn is easier to do than the heelside to toeside turn. Why? Because, with a moderately forward stance (20 degrees), and a goofy stance, my binding pushes me that way anyway. So think “1-2-3” on heelside to toeside, but only “1” on toeside to heelside turns.

As you are traversing heelside, a slight look uphill will slow your speed. This happens (or can happen) by using the radius of the board to head (a little bit) back up the hill.

Overall impression: I started out making something like jump-turns on heelside to toeside turns (because my weight was too far towards the heelside when I started to make the turn.) By making a few small adjustments, especially standing up as I start the heelside to toeside turn, I made more graceful, smoother turns.

The Irony of Blue Skies

What a sad twist of irony: bluebird days are indeed the best day to fly. We woke up this morning to a fine bluebird day. Not a cloud in the sky. Tons, literally, of new snow on the ground. And I had to leave it all.

Throughout the week, the weather forecast had said that Thursday would be the only sunny, clear day of the week. As I had watched other people in my ski party have to wait a few extra hours at the airport, or even stay overnight due to a cancelled flight, I had pinned my hopes for an uneventful exit on the forecast.

So when I saw the sky this morning, I knew that my travel plans would not be frustrated; I would leave town this day. But how I didn't want to.

Powder Day? Ride, Don't Ski

Today I made the most stupid decision of the trip: I left my board in the hotel room and took my skis out into the powder.

When faced with the decision of whether to ride or ski today, I thought that it would be good to go back to skis, so I could join my father-in-law in any terrain he would choose to enjoy. Two days ago, when I went out on the board, I was still feeling my way around on a big mountain. I did not feel comfortable riding on anything but blue terrain, so I limited where he could ski. I did not want to do that today.

It would not have mattered; we never left blue terrain today anyway, so my riding would not have affect him at all.

Riding would have been a blast, though. I've ridden in a small powder dump in the Midwest, and it was indescribably superior to dealing with the packed powder and ice that is the norm. I could have had an opportunity to do that in the Rockies. And instead I struggled through it, on skis.

That's because skiing in powder isn't that good if you don't have the right gear. I was on my usual skis. These narrow-waisted sticks are best for groomed slopes. As a result of that, and my relative inexperience in powder, I had to "work" all day. It eventually became enjoyable in its own way. But I suspect that riding would have been a more pleasurable experience.

Finally, I understood, through experience, something I have often read about snowboarding: it's on your knees. As I skied through the mix of powder and chopped-up snow, my skis were prone to travel at different speeds--and even different directions. That, in turn, could easily lead to twisted knees. Ouch! But with a board, that's not going to happen.

Conclusion of the day: when powder dumps, take the board.

Private Lesson, Group Price

February 15, 2005

Here’s one of the great "secrets" of a ski area: sign up for a lesson package for beginners. The long-range success of any ski area depends on the entry of new participants into the sports of skiing and snowboarding. And starting out in the sport—and staying with it—is easier and more certain if you take lessons. So it’s in the interest of ski areas to offer reduced prices for beginner’s lessons. Fortunately for you, it’s in your interest as well.

The outing two days go on Buttermilk West convinced me that I had achieved some measure of success, even while learning on the ice-hard surfaces of the Midwest. But it also seemed appropriate to take a lesson in "real snow," with "real instructors," if for no other reason than to have someone critique my technique and point out habits that may cause me trouble later on.

But which lesson to sign up for? Private lessons are too expensive, and there were two kinds of group lessons. One is geared for skill levels 5 and up; another is for skill levels 1 through 4. I thought that I was either a 4 or 5 level.

I presented my dilemma at the ski school window, and was told by an employee that I should try the "Beginner's Magic" program, for levels 1 through 4. They segregate people by ability, she told me anyway, and besides, I stood a good chance at getting a private lesson anyway.

I signed up for that lesson, and debated on whether to take a quick run up to the top before taking the class, or wait until what seemed to be the awfully late starting time of 10 A.M. I chose to wait, and go into the class with my full energy. That was a good move.

I headed over to the waiting area, and I talked with a man who was there to drop off his child. He was a crossover skier who took up alpine snowboarding, and now was getting into freestyle. Alpine riding (the form of snowboarding that is closest to skiing) made a lot of sense years ago, he said, but now he was learning about freestyle (parks and pipe) because that’s where his son was heading.

A while ago, a 10-year old certified my board as “cool.” And now, this veteran skier turned snowboarder said that he liked my board as well. “Very sharp,” he said. Well, I’m glad we have the important things such as looks out of the way.

I then turned to Kim, one of the instructors who was standing around waiting for the appropriate start time. I asked him to look at my board—remember, I had bought it at a flea market and knew little about it. Kim leaned on the board, and said that it had a good amount of flex. For my skill level and interests, that’s probably a good thing.

He asked me about the riding experience I had, and I told him about riding on Buttermilk West. “You may end up having a private lesson,” he said.

"That’s what I’m hoping for," I told him.

THE LESSON
I took only a half-day lesson. In a way that was a pity; I could have gained a lot from spending a complete day with a top-notch instructor. On the other hand, my wife was leaving around lunch, and I had promised her father that I would spend the afternoon with him. Besides, I'm not sure how well I would have done under the watchful eye of an instructor for an entire day.

Yes, I realize that it's silly to feel self-conscious in a lesson. After all, the purpose of taking a lesson is to exposure your weakness in front of someone who knows everything about the activity, and who can then give you ideas for improvement. But still, I was a bit nervous as we started heading down West again.

Actually, I rode pretty well during the first run. But then as he put me through different drills--hold onto your back pants leg, for example--I had to do things I was not familiar with, and so I fell a few times. That in turn feeds the self-consciousness: "I KNOW that I'm better than this."

But that's just something you have to overcome in a lesson. Accept that sometimes you have to get worse before you get better. Believe that a small amount of awkwardness now is worthwhile if it leads to better technique down the road. You may be able to "fake it" now, but your riding potential can be limited if you get down the mountain now using a technique that won't work in, say, steeper terrain or more difficult snow conditions.

At the end of the time, we went into the restaurant for lunch. We reviewed the points my instructor had brought up during the lesson. I asked him what skill level he thought I was at. He said it was easily a 5. "You were misdiagnosed" at the ski school, he told me.

But with a one-on-one outing, it worked out just as well for me and, I suspect, him as well.

Massive Snowmass

February 14, 2005

Today we went to Snowmass, the big daddy of Aspen-area mountains.

In the morning, we went to the Big Burn, a wide-open, high-altitude location. When the sun is out and the skies are blue, it's a great location, with spectacular views. Unfortunately, this wasn't a great day, for several reasons.

The "burn" in "big burn" may be a noun, to describe the forest fire that years ago took out many of the trees that were there. But today, "burn" was the condition of my feet, which were in pain the entire run down to the lift. Ski. Stop. Ski. Stop. Ski. Stop. Agonize.

Compounding the problem was poor light, which made navigating a relatively unfamiliar terrain a lot of work. Throw in a lot of people flying around me, and you have not a great way to start the day.

Once at the end of the run, I waited at a restaurant for my wife and her father to take another lap. It seemed like a 45 minute lap, a much-longer rest than I had hoped for.

Once they returned, we took a long traverse (Trestle) down to the Alpine Springs lift. But there was a small surprise at the end of the traverse: a mogul field.

It was not a mogul field in the traditional sense. I don't think it was designed to be one. It was simply the result of the casual approach to grooming that seems to characterize Snowmass, combined with a lot of new snow and plenty of traffic.

Still smarting from foot pain, the last thing I wanted on the snow was to deal with moguls. I don't ski them, for one thing. My few attempts to do so have not been spectacular. But here I was, apparently with no other way down.

Not knowing any better, I tried to traverse the field rather than taking a straight-down approach. I got more speed up than anticipated, and when I went at what seemed to be a high speed over the top of one bump, I let loose a vulgarity that I thought must have filled the valley. But somehow, I stayed on my feet, and eventually worked my way out to smoother terrain.

We took lunch at the High Alpine restaurant. Given its location and where we wanted to go next (Elk Camp), it was a reasonable decision. Still, I was bothered by the fact that, when we had finished eating, it was 12:45, and I had taken only two runs, neither of them successful or enjoyable.

But the rest of the afternoon—until 3:50—was a different story entirely. We spent the time at Elk Camp, an intermediate (blue) area that is my favorite location at Snowmass. It's got compound slopes, enough trees to make things look nice but not so many that they get in the way, and pitches steep enough to make things interesting but not so much that getting down them is a lot of work.

We started out on a trail (Bear Bottom) that was allegedly groomed. There's no way it could have been, with all that pushed-around snow and mini-piles. Other trails in the area, such as Bull Run, approached mogul run status, at least for me. I’m not saying that I now enjoy bumps, but I got some experience learning how to use them. It seemed like I spent a lot of time "jumping" off the top of them. I appreciate the experience enough that I may take a bumps lesson next year.

Another thing I enjoy about skiing (or riding) is to explore new territory. We traveled in the Creekside region, which is an interesting mix of semi-steeps followed by a much longer section of a very gentle slope.

Throughout the day the sun teased us. Occasionally it almost appeared from beyond the clouds. But most of the time we dealt with difficult light, and when we finally had excellent visibility, we were nearly finished for the day.

Visibility, it turns out, played a role in my foot pain. At least that's my theory. Unable to see very far ahead, I used a lot of short turns, especially in the morning. In the afternoon, I loosened my buckles, and the pain was almost always gone. What may have been equally important, though, is that I got more comfortable reading the terrain. So I was more willing to let my skis run out to the bottom of a small pitch, which meant less turning, and less pain.

If He Can Do It

Unlike the boors on the chair lift, a more pleasant reaction came from my sister-in-law. She had shown some interest before, and back home, I had explained to her a bit about stances, the challenge of getting up from a sitting position, and some turning techniques. And in fact one reason I had wanted to ride today was so that I could show off my new skills to her. She's run marathons and such, so I have always admired her dedication to fitness.

I had also thought that perhaps she might be interested in trying it out. And I may have succeeded. Her reaction to watching me ride today was a backhanded compliment: "No offense, but if John can do that and make it look easy and graceful, maybe I should try it after all." Trust me, there's no offense taken.

Skiers Behaving Badly

Near the end of a long but enjoyable day, I was riding down the final approach to the base of Buttermilk Mountain. I had even come off a pleasant exchange with some long-time skiers who are part of my social group at the lodge. And then I faced the return of The Ugly Skier.

I was riding close to the chairlift, in sight of the base, when I heard someone yell from the lift "The halfpipe is over there."

I looked up, but did not recognize anyone. The unknown male voice shouted again "The halfpipe is over there." It was an insistent rather than playful voice.

Me in the halfpipe? That's about as likely (this year, at least) as the Queen of England doing a cab 1080.

Taking the call as a personal taunt ("You don't belong here"), I considered three options.

First, I could return insult for insult, and shout something like "Stick it." A second thought soon washed over me: don’t return evil for good, and don’t do anything to reinforce the negative reputation of snowboarders. (After all, I was now one of them).

My final thought was a more practical and immediate one: "That could be someone from our group."

So I said nothing.

I never did find out who shouted from the lift, or even if the comment was directed toward me. I asked a few suspects back at the lodge, but all denied culpability. I'm willing to believe it was someone else, who was just having a bad day.

"I never thought I would see one of our group on a snowboard."

As I started riding down the mountain with my father, sister-in-law, and wife, we came across six other members of the larger group Three different couples, if I remember correctly, all in their 60s or 70s.

I had wondered how much criticism I would stir up by bringing a snowboard. You see, I'm out here not only with my father-in-law and his children, but with about 25 other people with whom he has been skiing since 1970 or so. In other words, it's a crowd that you might expect to be anti-snowboard.

And in my five years with them, I have heard my share of anti-snowboarder comments. The most common objections are that riders travel too fast, and that they dig deep trenches in the snow that make skiing harder.

So I had not said anything during apres-ski about bringing a board with me. After all, the group disperses to the four mountains once we leave the hotel, so it's not as if I had to tell everyone.

But when we were coming down Buttermilk today, "the truth" came out to a few of the old-school skiers. We were descending and stopped when we came across the three couples. Don, a skier in his late 70s, saw me and he said, in a deadpan voice, "My God. I never thought we would see one of our group on a snowboard."

To make things worse, I was crouching down, reading to collapse to the ground. It's sometimes hard to stand up on a board when you're not moving, and this was one of those times. Don, encouraged me to "Have a seat, John."

I sat down, and then went one better, laying on my back until it was time for us to keep moving. After all, I was beat.

After listening to them all talk for a while, it was time for us to move on. My father-in-law, went first, and someone in the crowd said I should follow him. Knowing that I was going to be the new representative of snowboarding to this group, I kept my turns relatively tight, hoping to dispel another criticism of snowboarders: that they hog the entire width of the trail.

As I kept it up, the pain in my front leg soon returned. I was emphasizing it; in fact, I was over-emphasizing it, fearful of riding too much on my toeside. (Falling backwards is bad enough. Falling on your face is worse.) But staying on my heelside edge just works the quads too much. Occasionally changing to a toeside ride provided some relief. I took my final run on a slower path, with my father-in-law, and told my wife and her sister to slam down to the bottom if they wished, for another run. I continued on with an unpleasant cycle. Ride. Feel the pain. Stop. Ride. Feel the pain. Stop.

Snowboarding on a Big Mountain

Now I know why snowboarding leads the way in waterproof pants. I didn't wear that kind of clothing today, and now I'm soaked to the skin from a day of snowboarding.

Today we went to Buttermilk. It was mostly because it was my wife's first day here, and she wanted an easy start to things. Another reason is that we expected it to be a "flat light" day. As it turns out, though, it was one of the sunniest days around. That made the decision to use the day to ride even better.

I'm often more anxious to get going in the morning than the other members of my party, and that certainly was the case today. We had a powder day! And it was my first time out west, on my own snowboard. More importantly, it was going to be the first day I rode with any degree of competence out west. Oh, I had taken a lesson out here last year, but it was such a tortured performance. I had managed to make it from the summit to the base, but that was due to determination more than skill.

Unfortunately for my anxious plans, we got a late start to the morning, first in leaving the hotel at 9 A.M. (when the lift opens). We were, as my wife's sister put it, "a herd of turtles" that day. And then we missed the bus.

Aspen has a good bus system for tourists. I imagine it is financed through taxes on hotel rooms and restaurants, because I've never dropped as much as a penny into the farebox. (Step on the bus after "ski hours," though, and you have to pay.)

When the next bus came along 10 minutes later--time's a wastin' away!--it was packed. The four of us looked at each other, deciding whether to climb on the bus and stand the whole way, or not. I got on the bus. The others stayed behind.

It was just as well. They had to stop at the rental shop anyway, which would take away precious more time from my snowboarding adventure. We agreed to meet at the top of Buttermilk's west terrain. It is the easiest of all the slopes in Aspen, but it was going to be enough of a challenge for me.

Once at Buttermilk, I thought, ever so briefly, of getting on the ski school lift. I often live by the motto "make your first run on the easiest part of the mountain," but I disregarded that today. For one thing, the ski school lift wasn't even as steep as the mini-hill I call my home "mountain." So no need to take that lift. As I took the ten minute (or so) ride up to the top, I was so excited about finally getting a chance to ride in a larger area that I knew that skipping the easier lift was the right thing to do.

If the theme of the 1960s was "Everybody's Surfin'," then the theme today was "Everybody's Ridin'" a snowboard. Nine out of every ten people I saw on the mountain, from the lift, was on a snowboard. I knew that Buttermilk was popular with snowboarders, but were they really that dominant? (As it turns out, there was a competition going on over at the Tiehack side that day. I never made it there.)

There's one benefit riding on a small Midwestern hill: it gives you plenty of chances to learn how to descend from the lift chair. I had worried that I might have a more difficult time taking on the higher, longer descent from the Aspen lifts. But I had no problem.

SOLO
After riding over to Buttermilk West, I started with the easiest possible route down, Homestead Road. (It's more like a steep golf course than a mountain.) I felt pretty good riding on a big mountain, even if it was on a mild route on the easiest side of the easiest mountain in Aspen. I was, after all, riding out west, regardless.

I left the road after it turned into a catwalk with a slight incline, and dropped into Westward Ho (another green trail), and stuck with that until I got to the new mid-mountain lift. After that I took another green trail (Larkspur) for my second solo run.

It was then time for a little showboating underneath the lift. That area used to be an off-limits, but when the ski company put in the new lift, they widened the trail and opened it up to the public.

I found shifting, double fall lines, which made things more interesting. But the biggest trouble came from being nervous about riding close to the trees and lift posts. A couple of quick turns, started in anxiety, lead to falls as I washed out.

LOOK AT ME!
Soon enough I met up with everyone else: my wife, her sister, and their 70-plus year old father. We played with the various green trails, sometimes descending to the base, and sometimes stopping at the midpoint lift station.

But the morning wasn't confined to the easiest terrain. I made a smooth trip down the lower part of Camp Bird, a blueish pitch that had given me fits last year. And I ended up following my sister-in-law into the bottom of Lower Larkspur, a bumps trail that I had not even attempted on skis.

As I've noted before, powder is an excellent environment for learning and improving your snowboarding skills. The early runs today were filled with slightly-used powder. I had enough untracked snow to give me the confidence to gather some speed and make some turns.

We took up a blue trail (Teaser) before heading in for a late lunch at 12:50. I was pretty much done for the day, though I did not know it yet.

TALKIN' 'BOUT THIGH BURN
After lunch we headed over to Tiehack, a more difficult part of Buttermilk. (Its black runs would be blue at other area mountains).

But I could not keep up the pace. My thighs were in pain, a lot of pain. Especially in my leading (right) foot. I had made a point of over-weighting that foot. While that's not as good as having a balanced stance, it's better than over-weighting my back foot.

I took it easy on the way down Buckskin (a blue trail on Tiehack), and did much better once I got out of the chopped-up stuff, and into the packed powder. My conclusion for the day: powder is great. Packed powder is fine. Chopped up stuff that presents mini-moguls is hard.

After this one trip over to the Tiehack side of things, I waited back at the restaurant for the others before a final run down.

From High to Low

Normally, I warm up to Aspen rather slowly, spending at least one day at Buttermilk (a smaller, lower mountain) before moving on to the other mountains in the area. But today I went straight to Highlands. As the name suggests, it's at a higher elevation, which makes for a greater challenge to the first day of skiing.

But I thought it was a good idea anyway. My wife was going to be arriving the next day, and we certainly would spend that day at Buttermilk. And I didn't want to go there two days in a row, so this was my chance to get some variety in right away.

Since this was a more difficult mountain, I took my skis rather than my board. My feet were killing me the entire first run. I was also winded. "I'm the weakest link," I announced. Even though I had been diligent in using a stair-stepper at home, I rarely used it to its full potential for aerobic exercise. There's no such thing as too much cardio preparation, I decided.

We (my father-in-law, his youngest daughter, and me) were joined by a 76-year old man and his 40-year old daughter. She and I were almost the youngest members of the party, which numbering 25 or so, took up a good portion of our small hotel. The group, which makes this an annual outing, was started in Michigan over 30 years ago. It has since dispersed to Arizona, Florida, and other retirement locales as its members have grown older. The median age is, I suspect, 65 or so.

Even though these folks were able to take time off to ski 30 years ago, few of their children have taken up the tradition. Our family is one of only two or three that have extended the trip into a second generation. That's got to be a bad sign for the ski industry.

But back to Highlands. We never did make it to the highest lift. We spent the whole morning in the mid-mountain area, using the Cloud Nine lift. That was good enough for me; I was working hard enough at 10,000 feet, and did not need to go any higher.

The pain in my feet was sharp for the first hour or so. Sometimes I got relief while on the lift, but sometimes I did not. That’s the penalty, I thought, I get for not having skied more this season. My boots do have custom footbeds, so in theory I shouldn't have this problem. But there is always a "break-in" (or rather, "pain-in") period at the start of this season.

Our final trip down Highlands, just before lunch, took us through a catwalk and then down a narrow (20 feet) icy pitch. Not fun at all. I side-slipped much of the way down.

Once at the base, we met my wife, who had arrived on a flight while we were skiing. Several of us ate lunch together before she went back to the hotel to visit with her brother, who left the restaurant to pack for an afternoon flight out.

By this time, the weather had deteriorated; it was overcast and snowing. After lunch The rest of us went over to Buttermilk, which is the default option when we have "flat light," a condition in which the ground appears to be one large sheet of white. (Try skiing at 25 miles an hour when you can't see whether the ground beneath your feet will remain level or drop 15 feet. That gives you an idea of the trouble with flat flight.)

We spent our time over on the west side, which is the easiest of all possible slopes in town. Not only is it less steep, but its runs are surrounded by trees, which improves the visibility. We took the Westward Ho trail to the new mid-mountain lift, and then ran various trails to either the new lift, or all the way to the base.

As much as I appreciate the speed of the new lift, progress had its price. Pine trees had closely lined the old lift. The ski company cut out many of those trees when they put in the new one. This gave us a vanity trail to use ("up there in the lift! Look at me!"), but it also took out much of the picturesqueness of the ride.

While stopped at the lifts, I handed out three Grays on Trays business cards. One man, obviously in his 60s (if not 70s), looked at the card and said "What makes you think I'm gray?" But he took the card with some interest.

A Few Mountain Stats

Skiing or riding in Aspen is actually spread over four mountains (the ski operations are all performed by one company, though). Here's one source of quick statistics that show how different the four mountains are.

Acreage:

• Snowmass: 3100 acres (more than the others combined)
  
• Highlands: 790 acres
  
• Aspen: 673 acres
  
• Buttermilk: 430 acres

Base Elevation:

• Snowmass: 8104 feet
  
• Highlands 8040 feet
  
• Aspen: 7945 feet
  
• Buttermilk 7870 feet

Summit Elevation:

• Snowmass: 12510 feet
  
• Highlands: 11675 feet
  
• Aspen: 11212 feet
  
• Buttermilk: 9900 feet

Vertical Rise:

• Snowmass: 4406 feet
  
• Highlands: 3635 feet
  
• Aspen: 3267 feet
  
• Buttermilk: 2030 feet

Travel to the Rockies

Today I traveled to Aspen for a few days with family and their long-standing skiing companions. This time out, my trip was more complicated by the fact that I decided to ride as well as ski.

I sent my skis and ski boots ahead of time via FedEx Ground service. It was a smart move, I think. It costs less to ship both items, together, than it would have cost to take just one of them as a piece of excess baggage.

There was a scare for a few minutes this morning, when I looked on the FedEx web site. It looked like my skis would arrive today, but not my boots. Tomorrow is a Saturday, so I would not have my boots for another two days! But a quick call to the 800 number brought me relief: both items were on their way. The web site had not been updated. Sure enough, once I arrived at the hotel, both packages were waiting for me. It was sure nice to not have to carry my ski boot bag as a carry-on item, like last year. Carrying 15 pounds through the airport can get tiring very quickly.

All the snowboarding gear fit into one large bag. That's one advantage of riding with soft boots: they are light enough and small enough that they easily fit into the bag, along with the board, my goggles, snowboarding gloves, knee pads, and impact shorts. Compared with skiing, though, there is more to take (shorts, pads, and special gloves.)

It took me a couple of hours to unpack everything. To fit the board into bag, I had to partially take apart my bindings, which meant that I had to reassemble them in the hotel room. It's hard to describe what this was like, so I won't. If you have seen Flow bindings, you will know what I'm talking about.

Getting a good night's sleep that first night in the mountains is always hard. It was compounded by the fact that I had to sleep on the couch for the first night. But thanks to some sleeping pills, I got 6 to 7 hours of sleep, which is actually good for a first night.

Has the Postal Service Cost Me $150?

A friend of mine from another part of the country sent me a surplus snowboarding bag. You know, the padded kind, with lots of compartments for gear and clothing, all ready (one hopes) for the abuse of airline luggage handlers.

It went out not merely priority mail, but express mail. That was a week ago. Looks like I may have to go buy one of my own. Retail prices seem to hover around $150.

Bummer.

UPDATE: The bag has arrived. It's one of those ones with wheels, so you can take it through the airport. It has (some) padding, so you can put it on a plane.

So why did it take a week for this "express" mail package to get to me? Two stickers put on the bag by postal employees tell the story.

One reads "SURFACE TRANSPORTATION ONLY," while another reads 'REFUSED FOR AIR TRANSPORTATION." Underneath that is the handwritten note: (Wheels).

Is that bizarre or what?

Skiers v. Snowboarders: Old School Still in Session

I got an unpleasant reminder that the old skiers versus snowboarders feud still lives in some quarters.

After having lost my ski gloves about a week ago, I decided it was time to pony up and buy a new pair. Since I am a skier as much as I am a snowboarder, I have a pair of gloves for each sport. (The snowboarding gloves have built-in wrist guards, which don't work well with ski poles.)

So I went to the ski shop where I bought the original gloves a few years ago. As the sales clerk (who might have been the owner of the shop as well) rang up my bill, she asked if I was in a ski racing program.

No, I told her. My alternative activity was snowboarding.

She gave me a startled, and pained look. I flashed her my new business card for the GraysOnTrays web site, which features a drawing of a snowboarding riding down the hill.

She was horrified.

We talked for several minutes about the bad behavior of some snowboarders. Sadly, the misdeeds of some have put snowboarding in general in a bad light. At least in her mind. No wonder they don't sell any snowboarding gear.

I thought that my pleasant demeanor, and agreeing with her that bad behavior was, well, bad, might make an impression. I'm not sure it did.

The old school is clearly still in session. At the retail level, it can survive if a shop finds alternate revenue streams, such as the ski racer.

Snowboarding Requires Extra Stuff

Snowboarding has its advantages and disadvantages over skiing when it comes to equipment.

On the upside:

• No poles to carry;
• Your snowboard can't cross itself, either on the slopes or while you are carrying it in the parking lot;
• You can actually walk in the boots.

On the downside, falls come more easily (when starting out, at least), and certain falls can be more painful, resulting in the need for more safety gear:

• Impact shorts or butt pad;
• Wrist guards (they may come built into gloves, which will as a result, will be awkward to wear anyplace but snowboarding);
• Knee pads (they make it easier to fall forward rather than backward onto the tailbone);
• Pads for the kidneys, back, shins (one or all three) if you are riding or experimenting with rails;
• A helmet (useful for skiing, I would say mandatory for students of snowboarding).

All this takes up space, whether in the suitcase, or in the house. Especially if you are also a skier.

Winter X is to Recreational Snowboarding as ...

NASCAR is to driving. One reason why some people hesitate to take up snowboarding is that they think of it as 18-year olds flying 15 feet above the lip of a halfpipe. "I can't (or don't want) to do that!"

But not all riding is in the pipe (and some adults can hack it, in any case). Top-level competitors, such as those in the recently finished X-Games, are highly skilled. But it's unrealistic for most of us to think of them as representing what the average person can or should do.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

Normally the kids shun the old man in the lift line. This one was different.

An 8-year old boy saw me in line, and said something along the lines of "Are you going single?" I said yes, and so we rode up on the lift together.

As we passed over he terrain park, we watched a boy struggle with a fun box. My companion pointed out that he would have never taken on the box in that way. I didn't quite understand what he meant, but let it pass.

I asked him if he rode much in the park. He said no, that he normally raced on a board.

Interesting. I had never met a snowboard racer, let alone someone that young. (By the way, I should mention that I started skiing before I started riding. And I started skiing at age 35.)

"Have you always been a rider, or do you ski, too," I asked him.

"Oh, I used to ski," he replied. "But that was when I was little."

Why Snowboarding is Difficult

Snowboard enthusiasts are sometimes guilty of making it sound too easy. Here are a few ways in which that first day or two can be rather difficult.

Challenges in starting out on a snowboard.

• No poles to steady yourself
  
• Ski bindings? Step on in. Much easier, even than step-in bindings.
  
• To get a sense of what strap in bindings (the most common type of bindings) are like, do the following. Stand up. Now, without bending your knees much, untie and then tie each shoelace. To simulate the degree of difficulty of dealing with straps, do this while wearing gloves. Feel the blood rushing to your head. Are you getting sick yet?
  
• Repeat this exercise while standing on top of a flat, slippery piece of plastic on the snow.
  
• You can get at least one foot in a binding on skis, since the other foot is firmly on the ground.
  
• Standing up on a board is difficult. Imagine this: sit on the ground. Put your feet in front of you, spread apart, and with your knees in the air. Mentally draw a line that connects your feet to each other. Now stand up by putting equal weight on both feet. Don't let one foot get ahead of the other.
  
• Some people think there's an easier way around this. Oh? Try this: assume the same position as before: sitting down, feet partially extended, knees in the air. Keeping your knees and ankles a constant distance apart, roll from right to left until both of your knees and both of your hands are on the ground. Not easy, is it? Now think of doing this with a large, slippery object attached to both feet.
  

These Boots Were Made for Riding

When you're just starting out, just anything will do. And then it comes time when "just anything" won't do.

I have enjoyed having my own equipment this season. No need to stop by the rental shop. No need to put down a $300 deposit on my credit card (as if I would steal equipment, especially that which had been used by dozens of people.) No need to always adjust to slightly different gear.

But I decided that the boots I had bought, as a ski swap find, were simply too big. So I bought a new pair from my favorite shop.

I paid about $100 for the pair, but then dropped in another $30 for semi-custom insoles. That is, the sales girl took a pair of insoles off the rack, and then baked them in the oven for a while. Then she tore out the OEM insoles from the boots, dropped in the new insoles, and I had toasty toes for about 15 minutes as I walked around the shop, imprinting the shape of my foot into the renovated boots.

In yet another example of commerce-meets-recycling, I sold the old boots on eBay. They will serve someone else for a while, before being passed along again. Ultimately, they will be so worn out that they will be good only for walking in the snow or shoveling the driveway.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my new boots. Not as tight as I would like, but they tell me that I'm not skiing, so I don't need ski-tight boots. I may regret this, but I won't know for a while.