I get a lot of things from my dad. My balding pattern, my sense of humor, my love for the thespian nature in life, and my addictive personality. I guess that's why I keep binoculars in my car. Its easier to spy on the snow conditions and tell whether it will be worth the 1.5 hour trek after work to hit some powder. I get a little antsy if I don't do something every couple of days that either involves snow or rocks in some shape or form. I watched the clock all day and prayed to whatever magical creature that was responsible for keeping the sun unhidden that it would still be unhidden when my turn came to play outside. Adult recess. Its kind of like kid recess except we play tag, and kick ball with the elements and the environment.
The trail was horrendously packed down with icy hardened snow and just added to the joy of the sweat drenching hike. On that note, it is pretty cool to spend so much time in an alpine setting and not worry about being cold. Snowshoes have been a must once you hit the ridge, due to all of the heavy precip we received over the last two weeks. The powder has literally been chest deep without them. I trudged up the ridge and through the trees turning at the giant spruce near the top and onto the open face that holds many enjoyable lines. It was like a war zone. Loud, chaotic, hard to see, and quite frightening in some places. The wind rollercoasted down the slope bringing with it several long serenades of powder and frozen rain. It was a shame to see such a good spot ruined by the screaming wind, but I hiked to the top anyway just to see the sweet windblown formations sculpted by the invisible force.
Back to the trees I went, my tail between my legs. I have not really given the tree covered ridge enough time or exploration that it deserves, as well as the credit. Today would have to suffice as an exploratory day. I took off into the winding dense foliage. I hit several untouched lines of powder and skirted between trees and around the tangled snowcovered undergrowth. So much comes at you so fast that it really is exhilarating to try and point it through a narrow gap between trees or hold you breath while you plunge over a small hump, not knowing what will await you on the other side. There was a lot of good powder in the trees where just a few hundred yards uphill there was a frozen wasteland. My first run all the way down the spine of the ridge was quite enjoyable and when I reached the small meadow that marked the end of the run I decided to try and look around for something big, and beautiful to hurl myself off of.
I'm really not a very good snowboarder. I'm not trying to be humble when I say this. I'm just trying to be honest. In the very short amount of time that I have been snowboarding I have realised that the things that I am drawn to in the backcountry are the really sweet looking features, like cliff drops. Not that I've done anything that could be considered a real cliff drop, but still, the idea is horrifically attractive to me. The small things that I have thrown myself off of have given me a glimpse at what it might be like to truly fly off a 60 footer though. I still have a ton to learn about the very basics of balance, controlling speed, control under speed, and evolving a style and a 'flow' (fast/slow) on the snow.
Anyway, I was wandering around the ridge trying to just figure out where everything is when I spotted a sweet little cache of powder and the root system of a fallen tree. The tree was now covered in 8 or 9 feet of snow, but the exposed root system had left the makings for a perfect ramp. The tendril-like roots extended in a curving arc upwards and were now perfectly consolidated by a thick blanket of powdery snow pack. The drop from the tip of the ramp to the sloping landing was probably 20 feet or so. I took a gander at the approach, and whaddya know, it was a perfect line of steep clean snow. I hiked up and around the line of snow leading to the ramp, and camped out at a small flat spot at the top of the steep hill. I had to get psyched to hit this thing. A lot of what is similar in snowboarding and climbing has to do with the mental aspect of the two games. I find myself trying to tap into the calming process of taking deep breaths in and out before I drop in to do a run. Helping to focus my mind on a positive outcome. I've had a lot of terrible thoughts about getting injured while attempting something way above my head, but so far, I always manage to land on my feet.
I did a couple of turns, and then blasted into the ramp. I floated for a few blissful seconds before coming down hard in the sweet powder below, just at the base of a clump of spruces. I was psyched I had sacked up and went for it. I hit the line a couple more times before blowing out the approach. I absolutely can't wait to get back to this jump and practice some grabs!
Being in the trees was humbling. It was a much different feeling and atmosphere than being out in the open bowl of the Stove, or even on the frontside of Picnic Rock. There were some really advanced features back in the trees on this little ridge. I did somemore exploring and found an immense cliff drop that would be more than impressive to see someone go for. The angle and the varied and expansive set of features on this ridge will definitely draw me back again and again.
