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How much overlap is there between surfing and snowboarding?

Not much, if you believe an unsigned article in the Delaware Coast Press:

Surfers hone wave-riding skills in sidewalk surfing
May 3, 2006

I sometimes hear novices or beginners say that they want to learn to surf and they relate their skateboard and snowboard experience as somehow being relevant to a quick learning experience. Well, let me tell you something. It’s not. Snowboarding and skateboarding are similar, but they aren’t really similar to surfing.

Take for instance, the turn. Seeing a snowboarder do a big carve or a skateboarder bomb a hill, you may see turns that are reminiscent of surfing. But really, they are accomplishing completely different things. Snowboarding and downhill skateboarding turns are designed to control your speed. You’re actually trying to slow down and carving is the most fun way of doing it. In surfing, however, turning is the means of generating speed, especially if you’re riding a three finned board. But even riding single fins you are turning to return to the source of power. If you take off and head straight off on a board you will quickly run out of speed and fall off. Not so on a snowboard or skateboard. So it is imperative that you are constantly turning to stay in the curl to keep up your speed.

If you live in a resort town, you go skiing or snowboarding, right? Not always.

The Vail Daily News finds a few residents of the Vail area who don’t ski much–or at all.

Why don’t they?

Sometimes it’s different outdoors interests:

“The Louisiana native has lived in Colorado for six years, but it was horses, not skiing, that brought him here ….”

For some, it’s the inability to shake a bad memory:

“Her last day on skis was when she was 16. It was freezing, she said, and she remembers sliding down the mountain on her rear end.”

I suppose that’s why, she says “It hasn’t been very appealing to me.” But one bad experience? That’s all it takes for some.

“It just wasn’t a very good day,” she said.

Finally there’s always the fear of getting injured:

“When Werner moved here after college, he worked in a physical therapy office. Exposure to people with ski injuries there turned him off to skiing, he said.”

This individual, however, avoids the possibility of ski injuries by … ice climbing.

Ice climbing?

Now that sounds like something risky.

There are some downsides to not skiing or riding, besides the obvious: “One drawback? He doesn’t get to skip out of work for the morning on powder days.”

Snowboards in May? In Minnesota? After a fashion, yes.

Minneapolis TV channel 11 (KARE) offers a video report of the event at Welch Village. The trick competition was held over a month after the season ended.

Welch Village has photos as well.

During the summer I’m going to revisit the world of snowboarding–at least on this blog–on an occasional basis. So let’s kick things off by mentioning a summertime activity, sailing.

The comparison came to me when I was cruising on my board at Vail. I was on a trail with the friendly snow: not powder, not groomed, not ice, but a nicely firm surface that was suitable for simply playing around. Mixing it up. Going fast. Going slow.

I glided almost effortlessly from one side of the trail to the other. Sometimes I stayed in the middle to spin in a circle as I continued the descent. At other times I “bombed it” for a short distance. But mostly, I took what the terrain gave me, gently riding up and down the small undulations of the trail.

The experience reminded me of sailing at its best. Both are best enjoyed on a sunny day. Both are best enjoyed when both are at shade that invigorates but is hard to describe. In both snowboarding and sailing, the blue is contrasted with white: the snow on the mountain, and the wake on the sea.

In both situations, the sportsman uses his skill and knowledge, an engineered product, the laws of physics, water, and an ever-changing natural environment to bring about physical, emotional, and even spiritual pleasure. In both situations, human will, shaped by “givens” of nature, whether they are wind and wave conditions, or snow conditions and the shape of the terrain.

Now, it may be that I’m overstating the comparison, but I’m not sure. While I have been a passenger on some sailboats, I’ve never been the captain. I’ve watched, and done as told. One day’s effort at windsurfing left me exhausted, and the opportunity for a repeat has never presented itself.

Speaking of variations of sailing, I have also gone parasailing. Twice. One trip took me 250 feet over the Gulf coast, near Tampa. A second took me 500 feet over Green Bay, off the Door County peninsula. Both events involved some of the elements I have mentioned above: blue skies, water, being shaped by the natural elements.

Yet there was one missing element: lack of control. Stand up on the boat, let the parachute fill with air, and go along for the ride. In snowboarding or in sailing, I had the choice of how to change my direction. On the parasail, I hung on for life and dared not make any changes. It was more of a passive experience. So I would give extra praise for snowboarding.

I had one day left for Vail. Actually, a half day. So I made the best of it by getting out to the mountain early. The lifts were scheduled to open at 8:30 a.m., and I was at #16 a little after 8 o’clock. This was going to be a great day.

It had snowed the night before. How much, I’m not sure. Perhaps 6 inches. It beat most days in the Midwest, so I wasn’t going to complain if it was 6 rather than 16.

I saw two young guys (perhaps college age, or slightly younger) standing just outside the lift gates. I figured that if they were waiting, the lifties were not taking paying customers yet, even as a few skiers and riders made their way to the chairs. What these people had in common were red jackets, and more importantly, membership in the ski patrol. Responsibility does have its privileges.

Eventually one “civilian” entered the gates, and scooted up to the ribbon signaling that the lift was still closed to the general public. A family followed, and I followed after them. Soon the corral was filled with eager skiers and riders. A liftie let us in a few minutes before 8:30, and for the only time this day, I shared the lift with someone.

One of the young guys was from the suburbs of Chicago. Poor fellow. While I must make do with a few 300-foot hills around home, he doesn’t even have that. His closest place for sliding is “Raging Buffalo,” a terrain park-only facility.

Spying a halfpipe off in the distance, I asked my companion if he had been in the pipe. He said no, that he was going to explore the rest of the mountain while he had the chance. Good choice, I told him.

My first run of the day was down Hunky Dory, a well-groomed trail.

It was a fun trip, and I enjoyed having smooth corduroy all to myself. I could have stayed there all day, but even the Midwest can have groomers. But it does not have the back bowls. The sun was shining and it was time to go.

THE BACK BOWLS, WITH VISION
In order to catch my afternoon flight, I had to be back at the base of the front side by noon. That left about three hours to make some runs in the back bowls, and take a quick trip to Blue Sky Basin.

I dropped into Sunup Bowl. What a difference a day makes. I had made one run there the day before, and it wasn’t that great. But this day, with the blue sky and tons of new snow, was different.

It started out with some views of other ridges, and of a new blanket of snow at the top of my path.

Living in the Midwest, I don’t get many opportunities to ride on powder. So the layer that we enjoyed this day was particularly delicious. I periodically stopped my descent long enough to look up at my tracks.

It’s easy to get sloppy with your technique in powder, since the snow offers an actual cushion to work with. Fall down? No big deal. Laugh!

Think that the slope might be too steep for your comfort? Point that board down the hill anyway; the extra snow will slow you down, and transform making turns into something simple.

The snow was not totally perfect; I could still feel crusty lumps underneath, at least towards the top of the bowl. But there’s no denying the attraction of riding in the bowl. Soon, hundreds of tracks were laid down.

I made two or perhaps three trips through the Sun Up bowl before deciding that it was time to head out to the China Bowl and then the Blue Sky Basin. The China Bowl had a very different look, that is, a more pleasant one, this time around.

I took a steeper approach down than the day before, and discovered why those orange-tipped poles are worth your attention. I was sliding over towards one set of poles, and it appeared that I was not going to be able to carry my momentum beyond them. Had I maintained my path, I would have gone through them.

But instead of doing that, I did one of those awkward snowboard moves that involves getting on your hands and knees and hopping around. Then I rode backwards (switch) to a point where I could descend without going through the gate formed by the poles.

Good thing, too, for when I got around and underneath the poles, I saw that they were marking a small cliff!

As I have said before, existing the China Bowl requires taking some cats. But here’s one good thing: my legs weren’t hurting as much as the day before.

HIKING WITH A BABY?
My effort to get on the lift serving the BSB was rewarded by some good views of the back bowls.

The lift took me to Belle’s Camp, which is the one of the peaks in the basin. There isn’t much to it: a lift house, a restroom, and a warming hut. It does offer a good view off in the distance, beyond the ski area.

It must have been the mountain air and the altitude, but during my time in Vail I never gave up an opportunity to use a restroom. The one at Belle’s Camp is a modern-looking building, but the toilet is a hole in the ground. Perhaps that’s why there was a sign in the stall that advised against putting small dogs (!) and diapers (!) down the hole. Anyone up for three hikes of 3,000 feet, up, down, and then back up again, with a baby strapped in?

I figured that I had only one trip down this “backcountry experience” before I had to make my way back to town. I took Cloud 9 all the way down. It was, unfortunately, a road / cat for most of the way. Chalk it up, again, to being unfamiliar with the area. I should have taken Big Rock, as I did once the day before. Still, it’s hard to complain about any day spent on the slopes.

Since it was late in the season, Lift #21 (Orient Express) back to the bowls was not open. That caused me some confusion as I approached the end of my Cloud 9 trip. I feared that somehow I had faithfully followed the signs towards the … wrong lift, that I would have to make another trip back up #37 to Belle’s Camp. It looked like the time I had to get ready for the trip to the airport would be VERY short. An unshowered snowboarder on a small plane? Not a good idea. Missing the flight altogether? Even worse. Fortunately, my fears were misplaced, and I caught Lift #36 (Teacup Express) back to the top of the China Bowl.

It would have been tempting to sneak in another two runs from that point. Instead, I decided to end with an endurance test, down Riva Run, which at 4.
5 miles, is the longest trail around. I missed the top of Riva (again!) and instead got in an unexpected mogul field on Zot (black), which is just above the cliff bands that I saw from Lift #4 (Mountaintop). I did catch the bottom half of Riva after taking a cat (Transmontane). It wasn’t the most enjoyable trip down, but I had made it.

As it turns out, once I had showered and had packed up everything, I had 30 minutes to spare before my van came. Should have made another run!

Or maybe not.

BOTTOM LINE
If you have the chance to visit Vail, especially in the late season when the crowds are nil, do it. Take a buddy if you can; ride alone if you must. Like Mammoth and Snowmass, it’s huge, and it offers a variety of conditions for all skiers and riders. If you’re at least an intermediate rider, drop into the bowls, especially on powder days. If you’re comfortable on catwalks, extend your trip into the Blue Sky Basin.

Buy tickets online, in advance, to save some dough. Pack a lunch as much as possible to save on meals that are expensive, even by mountain standards.

Most of all, get ready for some good times.

So this was my big day at Vail. Too bad the weather didn’t cooperate.

It started out with overcast skies from the moment I looked outside the condo:

It’s not that I had a bad day; it just would have been better had it not snowed so much.

I took lift 16 up to 4, and then rode the Timberline cat (not as bad as I had feared) down to the base of 14. That was the path to get into the China Bowl. The cat was fun in its own way; with all the nearby trees covered with snow, I felt like belting out “Winter Wonderland.”

I restrained myself, but it would not have mattered; there was hardly anyone around to listen.

After a stop at the Two Elks restaurant, I dropped into the China bowl by taking another cat that is just below.

It was hard to see anything. I could see far enough, but there was a haze over everything. I slipped off the cat onto the ground below, which would eventually go lead me to a small cliff. Fortunately the loud crunchy sound of the off-cat snow alerted me to the need to get back on track.

As I was cautiously making my way down the cat, to a point where I could drop in, an older guy on skis came up behind me. We talked briefly, and I decided that it would be good to have him around as a point of reference.

As it turns out he wasn’t looking for a mountain companion–when we got to the next lift, he quickly took off without waiting for me–but having someone else around as we both went into the bowl was comforting.

The bowl was unlike anything I have ridden before, but I would have to wait until the next day to appreciate that–that is, when I could ride with some sunshine. If you’ve never been skiing in such an environment, picture the guys from the “Bonanza” television show atop their horses, looking down into a valley that seems to go for miles and miles. It’s something like that. But covered with snow for all sorts of sliding.

Though there are no trails as such in the bowl, I did take the Poppyfields route (blue) down towards the Blue Sky Basin. I had only a vague sense of where I was going.

The bowls are great for powder days, but this was more “dust on crust,” or a few inches of snow on top of harder stuff that you would scrape against. It wasn’t the greatest snow, but it was my day to be in the bowls, so I stayed the course.

Getting to the bottom of the China Bowl is only part of the challenge of going to Blue Sky basin. There is also, you guessed it, another catwalk, one that winds back upon itself and requires crossing two bridges.

Getting to the basin is not, then, for the beginner. Then again, you don’t have to be an “expert,” if by expert you think of halfpipe tricks, or riding through chutes or jumping off cliffs. Simply being able to do a speed-check on a constantly declining cat is the most important quality after negotiating the China Bowl.

There is one thing that is helpful, however: Having calves of iron. There are many ways to ride on a long catwalk; I spent much of my time standing slightly on tiptoes.

Now I had been working out several times a week, including doing calf raises and dips. But getting to the basin gave a workout that I had never experienced in the gym. I wanted to stop at different times, but resisted, since coming to a complete stop would have killed any speed and made things more difficult.

Blue Sky Basin is advertised as a lift-served backcountry experience. It’s sorta kinda like that. Not that I have backcountry experience, but the “trailness” of the place is not like you would get on the front side of Vail, and it’s much less open than the bowls, which you can often see from BSB.

The light was adequate for a while, but pretty soon, the cloud cover increased and snow started falling. Then it started getting heavier, and hard snow started to pelt my jacket.

These were not the best conditions in which to ride the basin. First of all, I had never been there before. Second, the not-a-bowl but not-a-trail nature of the place made it hard to know where I was going. I had never been there before, and feared getting into a line that lead to some rocks, or simply, confusion. Add to that the fact that I was alone on a acreage that saw few people. What if I fell into a tree well? When would someone pull my frozen body out of the snow? All these factors combined to keep me in a conservative approach.

It took me a while to figure out where to go, and even then, I was disoriented. For example, I intended my first trip to be through “Grand Review,” but it took me a while to find out where that was. Once I got out of the more unpleasant terrain, however, the ride was great.

Another trip down I tried to follow a different line, “The Star.” At this point, the light was getting worse, and I never did see a sign telling me where I was. Unsure, I spent the good part of 15 minutes working my way down the mountain by going underneath the chairlift, on a tight and gnarly path.

I later joined up with a family, for a brief time. Parents, teenaged kids, and little kids. I asked the parents if I could tag along with them. They said sure, but we don’t know where we are going, either. I followed them, then lead them, and then lost them. We made it through a more difficult part of the basin, I think. At least it felt that way, as I tried to follow the teenaged son through a field of small, tightly spaced trees.

After fighting the flat light and falling snow, I decided to bail out for the front side of Vail. So I made my way back to lift 36, and up to Whisky Jack, a reasonably pleasant blue run on the front side. I followed that up with the green runs in the same area (Two Elks), such as Sourdough, Tin Pants, and Flapjack. The easy cruisers were a different kind of pleasure than the rough and tough conditions I had been through. As my father-in-law would say, when the snow is falling, head for the groomed tree runs.

I ended the day with a wide sweeping trip to the base, going from (I think I have it right) west to east. I started on Expresso (lift 4) and made my way over on Eagle’s Nest Ridge. This part of the day would have been a great time to have a riding companion who knew which line to take. “No, don’t go there, go here; it will make things much easier a few minutes from now.” At least once I had to unbuckle and climb back up hill to get to the trail I actually wanted to be on.

The final run took me over to the Lionshead area, down Simba. I kept it all blue, avoiding the black diamond shorter steeper pitches. I had had a long day (no complaining here!), and there was no need to push things.

NIGHT
Despite having spent much more time on the mountain, I was in better shape at the end of this day than the day before.

I also had some fine views, which had been absent during the day.

This year I’ve really enjoyed new late-season riding. And when you’re riding in Vail’s record-setting year, it’s easy to enjoy the late season.

For the second ski area in North America (only Whistler Blackcomb is bigger), the scope of Vail is surprisingly easy to grasp, at least superficially. You will hear that it is possible to spend an entire season there and still find new caches of snow, and that’s probably right. In my own case, I was able to sample the front side, two of the back bowls, and portions of the Blue Sky Basin.

Here’s what happened on the first day, a Monday.

Landing at the Eagle Vail airport
I took a small prop plane from Denver to the Eagle County airport. Flying over the mountains in the equivalent of a bus is not for the weak of stomach. Fortunately, my stomach held up well enough, but the ride certainly was turbulent enough.

Once on the shuttle, I noticed that the appetite for direct flights on large plans continues to grow. Our van had to stop for 5 minutes as a fleet of earth-moving equipment paraded across the road, dumping fill for a runway extension for this growing airport.

Once in town, I changed into my gear. It’s amazing how long it takes to unpack and put on various forms of protective clothing. But soon enough I was on the mountain.

Everyone knows it’s Windy
The day featured a mostly cloudy sky, with winds. I started out in the Lionshead area, and decided to take lift 19, the Eagle Bahn gondola, rather than lift 8 (the Born Free lift) because it would take me further up the mountain. OK, I also thought that a gondola would be more interesting than a chair lift, since I had been in a gondola all of one time in my life.

Lifts 8 and 19 are fairly close together, so it was with some disappointment that I noticed the gondola I was in stopped in mid-journey, several times, while lift 8 continued up the mountain. By its boxy design, the gondola was more likely to be buffeted by winds, forcing operators to slow its operation to a crawl. Bad choice on my part, then.

This was a lesson in how what you don’t know can hurt you.

My bad luck continued. I had hoped to ride over to lift 2 (Avanti) and play around in the area known as Mid-Vail, which offers easy access to a number of shorter runs of all colors. But somebody at the top of the gondola told me that lift 2 was closed as well, due to winds.

Catwalks
When I asked a patroller what should I do, he advised me to ride back down a longer trail (Born Free) and then take the Vail Village catwalk over to lift 16 (the Vista Bahn). This introduced me to one thing I did not care for so much: catwalks.

Now, I have come a long way in my riding skills, so the cats no longer strike fear in me as they once did. A cat can even be a nice change of pace, a way to slow down after charging through several runs. But on my first descent from the lift? I did not need that just yet!

Well, my complaints are not too serious. Such is the wonder of living in 21st century America, when the biggest complaint of the day is taking the wrong line down a mountain in an expensive winter sport! The trip down to lift 16 was easy.

PHQ
Once I left chair 16, I took the short ride down to chair 4 (Mountaintop) to, well, the mountain top, or more specifically, PHQ (Patrol Headquarters). In this area, two lifts serving the front side (11 and 4) meet in roughly the same spot.

I took a few runs from each lift, starting with Northwoods (blue) and then adding in Expresso (blue) and Ramshorn (Green), before taking #3 up to the Wildwood area.

Wildwood
I finished that off with a quick trip over to Wildwood, which was at the top of lift 3. This lift would have normally taken me into the Game Creek mini-bowl, but GC was closed for the season, the largest (and perhaps only) area that was officially closed at Vail.

From the top of Wildwood I took another run or two down Hunky Dory (blue) back to lift 3. I took some bump runs, which demonstrates how well this day served up “hero snow.” I have tried bumps in the Midwest, but without much success. At home, the bumps are usually icy and the field is narrow, requiring rapid edge changes. This day at Vail, the moguls were soft but not too much so. The field was wide enough that I could traverse and made wide, sweeping loops rather than try to make rapid turns.

For the end of the day, I took Hunky Dory , Meadows (green) and Transmontane (another cat) down to Riva Ridge (blue-black). Riva is the longest run at Vail, but for some reason I was never able to find its start at the top of the mountain. I always ended up riding only a portion of it: two or three miles instead of 4.5. Again, not exactly a crushing blow, but kind of odd.

Download?
I had seen signs suggesting that due to conditions on the lower mountain, customers might wish to download (ride the lift down the mountain) at the end of the day.

Why was that? Perhaps the snow had melted so much that rocks were exposed? I could not see anything like that from the lifts. And I wasn’t going to let a little soft snow near the base deprive me of time on the board; I would rather ride ON the snow with my board than ride suspended OVER it in a chair.

Sure enough, the snow was a bit soft in spots. But all that meant was that I had to pick my lines more carefully. As it turns out, warm snow may be another one of those conditions which is easier for snowboards than for skis. Or maybe it’s just that I was used to spring conditions.

Not Bad for the First Afternoon.
A few years ago, I read an account of a guy who hopped on a plane in New York, flew to Utah, quickly made his way to the mountain and then to the top of the mountain … and then puked all the way down while attempting to ski.

Altitude sickness.

Fortunately I had nothing of that sort happen. I did have a slight headache, which I usually do during my first day in the Rockies.

Once I got back to my condo, then the more serious symptoms set in: I was wiped. Dehydrated, probably. The few juice packs I had taken with me were not enough.

But I opened the water tap back at the condo, let it flow, and got much better. Recovery took only an hour or so. Not bad for heading out to the mountains on the first day. And not a bad amount of terrain for a short day of riding.

My wild guess is that I got in 10,000 feet of vertical descent in just over 2 hours. By comparison, getting in that much back home would require riding from 9 am until 9 pm.

Oh yes, thanks in part to my aggressive schedule, I slept much better than I usually do for the first night.

Finally, I’ve spent the last day driving to snow in the 2005-06 season. The good news? Now I have a clean car.

When I got home, I unpacked the car. Then I cleaned it up. Though my car is not a rolling trash can, there were signs of a ski season around: the back of a lift ticket; a trail map; a spare set of gloves. It all went. Out.

Also out: the parking lot mud that had dried into dirt, scattered throughout the trunk. The floor mats came out for a cleaning. It was odd to be carrying snow gear into the house while the Masters tournament was airing on the television.

Oh yes. It’s time to store those golf clubs in the car now.

Does gender-specific equipment help?

The other day I talked with Jeannie Thoren, a leading expert on the topic of women-specific ski equipment. Thoren, a former ski racer, is a passionate advocate of women-specific skis and boots. SkiPress World calls her the pioneer of women’s-specific ski gear. She spends much of the year traveling the country for Dynastar, giving clinics on how anatomy should drive ski design.

You can read her ideas at her web site, or do a Google search to find second-person accounts of her work. The essential point of her message is that women, having a lower (and further back in the body) center of gravity than men, are ill-served by most ski equipment, which is designed with men’s bodies in mind. It’s not that a woman can’t become good or even great skier on men’s skis–but she will be working with a handicap if she uses ski equipment that is designed for the physics of a man’s body.

I asked Thoren if the same problem exists with snowboards. Her answer: yes. (She does know how to snowboard, but works with, and rides, skis.) She said that there is still a need for women-specific equipment in snowboarding. I’d like to see that idea developed some more. Some boards are being sold as women’s board, but if I remember our conversation correctly, Thoren thinks that there’s still much work to be done in getting some truly women-friendly boards out there.

As someone who learned how to ski only after the shaped-ski revolution (borrowing from snowboards) took place, I would have to agree that having the proper equipment can make a significant difference.

Some of the best times are the off-times.

If you time it right, the off-season, or the near-off season, can be a great time to … well, do a lot of things. Hotel rates in resort areas can be cheaper, the crowds are smaller, and sometimes there’s a delicious ambiance that you won’t find any other time.

You can see this principle at work in golf, for example. It’s easy to think of golf as a summer event, or (since the Masters tournament is coming up this week), a spring and summer event. Yet my favorite time to golf is in the fall, when “a good walk spoiled” is a fantastic way to savor the crisp air and foliage.

In the same way, nearly off-season skiing and snowboarding has its own delights, as I’ve written before.

I spent much of yesterday at Spirit Mountain, in Duluth, Minnesota. When talking with one of the staffers there, I joked that it was appropriate that my last day in the Midwest would have been April Fool’s day. After all, some people might think that only a fool would venture out to the slopes on April 1.

But the conditions were pretty good. The snow was of course mashed potato-like in many places, but it was only partly, not totally lumpy. The edges of the runs had shrunk, of course, but the too-warm-to-slide-on patches of snow were (for the most part) easily avoidable.

If you like getting up speed in the halfpipe, it was a bad day. But for someone who likes to try it out from time to time but is cautious about getting too much speed, it was a great day. And it was also a good day for cruising, or, as my riding partners like to do, bomb it down the hill.

A bonus feature of Duluth is that you can some good water views as well as some birding. A couple of times we saw a bald eagle, and the view of St. Louis bay, and Lake Superior were fantastic.