You Need to Stay in Control

Snowboarding, like many activities, works better when its participants follow some simple concepts of etiquette. In the case of skiing or snowboarding, it's the Responsibility Code that should set the minimum level of expectations. The text of the code is (or should be) plastered on the wall of your local ski area. Hopefully, many walls.

The nearest microhill to my home periodically (perhaps once every 20 minutes) broadcasts a version of the Responsibility Code over the PA system. I have heard it so often that some of the phrases--not only the words but the tones--are ingrained in my memory.

You need to stay in control.
People in front of you have the right of way.
etc.

Here's just one example of how the code works: I'm working my way down a run. In front of me is a novice skier, who is using some snowplows and stem Christies, and sliding slower than I am. He's also making moderately large sweeping turns, so he gets in my way. And I'm losing my confidence in my ability to get around him.

But since he is the downhill skier, he's got the right of way. Period. I can be upset that he's making my run poke along, but I've got to keep in mind that he's got the right of way. He may not be skiing properly, but it's my responsibility to adjust myself to him to ensure a safe overtake him.

It takes me a while, but finally I overtake him. And within 30 yards, I fall down and he overtakes me.

Oh well!

If I were king ... I might want to require every season pass holder recite some form of the responsibility code back to me. Knowing the code is no guarantee of good behavior, but it's a start.

180

Today I went to a clinic in doing ground 180 turns. Another step in snowboard progression.

Briefly put, in a flatland 180, you spin around, without (much) leaving the ground.

We first took off the boards, and flipped while just standing in one place. Stand facing downhill, and then spin to face uphill Stand facing uphill, and spin to face downhill.

Oh yes, and do it with proper balance: when you are facing downhill, more weight should be on your heels; when you are facing uphill, more weight should be on your toes. If you don't do this when you're jumping just with your boots on, it's no biggie. But if you're on a board and don't do this, you're going to have an awful crash. For example, if you start out facing uphill, have your weight on your toes, spin around so that you face downhill--and your weight is still on your toes--you're doing to do a face plant. Ouch!

After jumping without the board, we got into our bindings, we worked on the 180s while traversing a green trail. Start riding (say) from right to left on one edge. Then compress your legs, and swing your arms and the rest of the body, and do the twist. You'll end up, if all goes right, on the other edge--and also keep going right to left across the trail. As a result, you'll end up starting with your usual stance (whether that is goofy or regular), and ride out the rest of the traverse in a switch stance.

I wasn't successful at first, of course--few things in snowboarding come off on the first try. I crashed, but nothing serious. But after a while, I was able to start out riding heelside, jump, and finish off the traverse riding toeside (and switch).

Doing the toeside to heelside 180 was more difficult--just as I've always found doing toe to heel turns easier than heel to toeside turns.

Eventually I was able to do a toeside to heelside turn. Woo!

Catching Tiny Air

With all the snow that came down recently, I took the opportunity to catch some tiny air.

The first step is to find a slope. I could go down the street, where a park has a small hill. But I also had (if the local TV weather guy has it right) 1,800 pounds of snow sitting in my driveway.

At least half of that snow got piled up into a corner of the yard, into a mound roughly 4 feet high and 6 feet in diameter. There was a fair amount of compacting to do, which I did in a haphazard manner, namely, pounding it with my hands and falling on it.

The second step was to build a kicker. It is about 3 feet from the base of the pile, roughly the width of two boards, and about a foot high. Maybe not even that.

Climbing to the top of the pile is a bit difficult; it's best to not try to walk on the surface (the snow is not that compact), but instead to take a step, let your foot sink in, take another, and so forth. Three or steps are all that is required.

Once I top I placed the board down, and put one foot on the board, smoothing out the area and compacting it some more.

Getting both feet into the bindings is a bit tricky; a wrong move could send me crashing down a side of the mound, taking out a large part of it in the process. But I was able to work it out, and so far have taken 6 "runs," down the slope, across the short distance to the kicker, into the air by perhaps a foot, and then sliding for another 10 to 20 feet.

It isn't much, but my "air" time has begun.

Powder Pow-Wow!

Today was a rare powder day in the upper midwest. Vacation day!

Oddly enough, there may been a greater amount at my house than at some of the ski areas around here. (Usually, of course, it's the other way around.) Driving took a bit longer than normal, but not unbearably so. The various road crews had done a good job of cleaning up at least one lane on the state highway, and the county road was dry. The greatest delay came from following some slow vehicles on the two-lane county road.

Much to my surprise, when I got to the ski area at 11 am, there were no more than two dozen (or so) cars in the parking lot. Given the people required to staff the rental shop, front office, food service and the like, I wondered if there were more employees than paying customers.

Speaking of employees, one time I shared a ride on a quad with a man who asked "So are you playing hooky today?" We talked about work, and he explained "this IS my job." He was, he says, on ski patrol, though in a rain suit rather than the traditional red jacket. Better for snowy days, he said. But the most notable part of the encounter is that he asked to see my lift ticket. In all the skiing and riding I have done, this is the first time that anyone has asked to see a ticket. Not wrong, just odd. (I believed he was on ski patrol; he had the typical radio transmitter attached to his coat.)

There's something about a powder day that unleashes a voracious appetite, as in "Look at that snow. I want to be the one to lay down tracks on it!" And put down tracks I did. Sometimes I was the first person to "set foot" on a trail (aside from some snowmobile tracks, presumably from a worker of some sort), but even when I was not, there were plenty of areas of each run to explore, well into the afternoon.

Without thinking, I found myself jumping up and down as I rode. (Now I read that this is one thing a person should do while in powder--it lifts the board higher in the snow). On the other hand, I did not bother to set my bindings back a notch on the board, which is something often recommended. I tried to compensate a bit by doing what is normally a no-no, which is leaning back towards the tail of the board. It did seem to help.

There are two problems with powder, though given the delight of riding in it, they are bearable. One is that a rider is more prone to get stuck in the flats.

A second problem is that snow often got into my binding, requiring several minutes to remove the excess snow with a small hand tool. (The price I pay ....) So having a pocket screwdriver is good not only for adjusting bindings, but cleaning them.

After four hours, the snow started getting pretty chopped up on a few trails. One trail, in particular, reminded me of a day out west, last season: chopped powder. During a trip to Colorado, I alternated between board and skis. Unfortunately, I took my skis out on a chopped powder day. It was a lot of work, what with two legs sometimes going at different speeds, with one slicing through chopped powder and the other sliding on hard pack. Two legs, two different speeds: not good. At the time, I thought "I should have brought my board out here, not my skis."

After taking a board down similar conditions today, I have to say that I was right. It was easier on the snowboard, with both legs attached to the same piece of equipment.

The most amazing part of the day, though, came shortly before 2 p.m. There were a couple of black diamonds I had not been on, at least on a board and I wondered what those were like. I thought there were fairly narrow, but with the powder, I felt I could handle it.

The powder did present one problem, though: I didn't have enough speed to get to the start of these two trails, which sits at the top of a small rise. So I had to get out of the back binding and drag the board up the hill.

But once I got to the start of one trail, I had a pleasant surprise: no tracks. At nearly 2 in the afternoon, on a powder day! How this could happen, I don't know, but it was great.

The first half of the trip was easier than expected: "How can this be a diamond?", I thought. Well, it dropped off pretty quickly. So did I, on the toeside to heelside transition (always my more difficult side). I'm thinking that what might help in this situation is to shift my hips toward the tip of the board as the transition to the heelside traverse begins. It has been useful whenever I have tried it.

Comments Welcome, But Do It This Way ...

I've turned the comments function back OFF again. Or at least I've hidden the comments, I'm not sure which.

Why? I'm tired of dealing with comment spam.

You know the type:
"Hey, great blog. I enjoy snowboarding. Come visit my site, where you can buy prozac, viagra cheap, and earn millions of dollars with Nigerian politicians."

A less malignant type is this:
"Hey, great blog. I've got a site about snowboarding. It's blahblah.net" Now, .signature files are fine--saying something substantial and then putting a small plug for yourself has a long 'Net history.

If you have something that might be of interesting to adults interested in snowboarding--and relevant to this blog--here's what you do. Go to the home page (look for the link--you are a human and not a machine, correct?) From there, click on "Contact us," or "e-mail us," or "send e-mail," or whatever it happens to be called. Send your comment via e-mail. If it's relevant, has substance, and is not primarily advertising, it may get published here.

Lifestyle or Recreation?

Look at snowboarding magazines and web sites long enough (say, 20 minutes, max), and you'll encounter all sorts of blather about "the snowboarding lifestyle." This is usually accompanied by complaints about those who have "sold out."

In bald terms--never stated this way, of course--"selling out" means things that the rest of the world has taken for granted: getting a job to support one's self and one's family, and recognizing that, by golly, snowboarding is a great activity, but it is not a means to achieve world peace or some sort of spiritual state.

Oh sure, I am thankful to God for the ability to ride, both fiscally and financially. Tonight, I'm going to hear some people describe a trip they made to west Africa. And when I consider that some people struggle to get by on less money each year than I spend on my season pass, snowboarding looks, not like a "lifestyle," but a frivolity. Something to enjoy and be grateful to, but that's about it.

"Selling out" also means, I think, the quite ordinary and commendable acceptance of the fact that there are other things to do in life besides strapping on a board, no matter how deep the powder, awe-inspiring the terrain, or remarkable for the moves you made on the slopes the other day.

Yesterday morning I went out to my home base--the third time this season, and the second trip for which more than a single run was open. It was a blast. Snow lingered on the trees, and powder, a rare event quantity around here, was on the ground.

I could have stayed until late the evening. Instead, I bailed out around 1 in the afternoon.

Why? I had a Christmas party to go to. And though it was hard to leave, I enjoyed myself at the party, and it was a smart move to go.

This morning, I sense the appeal to strap on the board again. But I also have other things to attend to, and, perhaps this is the old guy status kicking in, I'm not feeling great. Combined with an ongoing cold, I feel a little sluggish. So I will most likely not ride today, and instead wait for another time even if the conditions are not as good.

Selling out? Perhaps. I call it having a life, not a snowboarding lifestyle.

You Need to Stay in Control

Snowboarding, like many activities, works better when its participants follow some simple concepts of etiquette. In the case of skiing or snowboarding, it's the Responsibility Code that should set the minimum level of expectations. The text of the code is (or should be) plastered on the wall of your local ski area. Hopefully, many walls.

The nearest microhill to my home periodically (perhaps once every 20 minutes) broadcasts a version of the Responsibility Code over the PA system. I have heard it so often that some of the phrases--not only the words but the tones--are ingrained in my memory.

You need to stay in control.
People in front of you have the right of way.
etc.

Here's just one example of how the code works: I'm working my way down a run. In front of me is a novice skier, who is using some snowplows and stem Christies, and sliding slower than I am. He's also making moderately large sweeping turns, so he gets in my way. And I'm losing my confidence in my ability to get around him.

But since he is the downhill skier, he's got the right of way. Period. I can be upset that he's making my run poke along, but I've got to keep in mind that he's got the right of way. He may not be skiing properly, but it's my responsibility to adjust myself to him to ensure a safe overtake him.

It takes me a while, but finally I overtake him. And within 30 yards, I fall down and he overtakes me.

Oh well!

If I were king ... I might want to require every season pass holder recite some form of the responsibility code back to me. Knowing the code is no guarantee of good behavior, but it's a start.