It was the beginning of the ski season. The year was 1990. There I was,
dressed head-to-toe in full snowboard gear. As a brand new snowboarder, my gear was also new, except the Burton Elite snowboard that had been handed down from
my older brother, Dallas. Well, everything was new except the board, and the black
and neon Gerry jacket that I wore through the 3rd and 4th
grade. I distinctly remember being teased by a fellow classmate for wearing
something that was “from the D.I.” – the local thrift store chain. To be
honest, it could’ve been. I mean, based on its design, it couldn’t have been
made after 1982, and I don’t remember
anyone in my family wearing it before me. The insult hurt my feelings at the
time, so since I never got to say it then, “Fuck you, DJ.” But back to the
story…There I was, so excited to rip the slopes. Winter was here. But I wasn't on the slopes. I was fully geared up, getting amped in my living room.
I eventually made it up to Brighton Ski resort, where I learned
to ride on a double chairlift which at the time was called “Mary”. Sounds fierce, I know. There were falls here and there, but I don’t remember struggling too much as I’d
ridden a skateboard growing up. Lift tickets were free for kids at Brighton, so
I was able to ride at little expense to my parents. In subsequent years, my
father worked his weekends as a Mountain Host, so this made for frequent visits
to Brighton, and more free ski days. I believe I was putting 40 or so days in between
there, and my father’s favorite resort, Powder Mountain. Soon after came the big snowboard BOOM of the 90’s. Technology was changing, and more and
more people were picking up the sport. Most of my peers were spending their
days jibbing in the park, and riding pipe. This wasn’t the direction my riding
went. I found myself on the steeper terrain, hunting for stashes of powder, and
going as fast as I possibly could. Eventually, I entered in the Giant
Slalom at the Utah Winter Games at the age of 13. At the time, I was the Game’s youngest competitor. It was here that I learned that proper equipment and aerodynamics were important for speed.
I also learned that it’s easy to earn a Gold Medal when you’re the only one in your age bracket. Armed with the false sense of accomplishment, my riding continued
to progress, and it was around this time that I learned the art of the ‘carve’,
how to ride variable backcountry terrain, and spent days boot packing
ridgelines in the sidecountry. I learned
to love big mountain riding, and deep powder.
When people ask me if I have any regrets in life, I can only
say that I have one: That I ever took a break from riding regularly. But if you
do the math, I’ve been snowboarding off and on, for almost 25 years. When I
think about it, I feel like I should be a much more accomplished rider, and I really should be. But ultimately, this passion has found its way into my DNA, and
I can’t think of anything that gets me more excited than the arrival of a new
season, and a big storm building off the Pacific Coast.
So “cheers” to Opening Day tomorrow and to another great season. You’ll see me riding inbound at Snowbird this year, and splitboarding throughout the Wasatch
backcountry and beyond. I’ve promised friends that I would blog about my
adventures more regularly, so I hope to keep that promise. But I also hope that
blogging here in my living room gets easier; and I suppose it will without all
this gear on…
