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Week one is done. It is 'Week One' of many things.
Week One as a former employee of Cosmic Blender. Week
One of my break from professional life. And perhaps
most notably, Week One of my self prescribed snowboarding
odyssey. One week into this new phase, and I have barely
thought about the larger themes of my life. I have barely
had the energy to write an email, let alone a journal
entry or reflection (though I did manage the usual in-transit
entry into my travel diary). What I did manage, however,
was to snowboard my little tail off. And my oh my, what
a partner in crime the heavens have been in this endeavor.
Here are the highlights…
Just the Facts
The scenario needs no flowery language to impress.
Week one's destination was Snowbird, Utah. Base elevation
8,100 ft, peak elevation 11,050 ft. Six days of skiing
and riding. Four days of snowing, two days of sun. Total
snow accumulation of 53 inches, (24 inches in 24 hours
at the storm's apex). That's over four magical feet
of Utah's famous dry powder. This place is truly enchanted.
On Powder and Trees
 I
am a big fan of riding in powder. It is a feeling unmatched,
and hard to do justice with prose. Here is my feeble
attempt: It is like swimming, or floating perhaps. On
a steep, virgin powder run, the mountain is truly yours.
And yet it is as if there is no mountain at all- you
never actually touch it. Somewhere between your control
and the fall line's, the board swings from side to side,
never edging against anything of substance. You finish
a powder run fully drained and winded; yet you can't
recall ever expending any energy.
And when the powder runs out, inevitably giving way
to tracked-up bump runs, I become a big fan of riding
in the trees. Pockets of fresh snow can always be found
in the trees. A powder run is wonderful yet fleeting-
but a tree run offers endless variations on tracks and
turns. A powder run (properly prepped by ski patrol)
is benevolent and controlled. A tree run is wild wild
west- the terrain varies from freefall steep to flat
to even uphill. This type of skiing/riding requires
simultaneous big picture planning and split second decision-making.
It is a thrill.
This trip's record snowfall managed to elevate the
tree riding experience to a new level of thrill. The
deep powder changed everything. Riding wide and fast
around a small pine, there is no way to tell if that
mound of snow is reflective of the terrain beneath it
or if it is just a wind drift. If it's patterned after
the terrain, knees must bend to absorb the edge. If
it's a drift, down you go, dropping as if on an express
elevator to the valley floor. You cannot guess which
it is, you just feel it as it comes, and literally go
with the flow.
The Memory of Trees
 I
have come to find that feeling is everything in deep
powder tree runs. Feeling and memory. That is all that
is left when eyesight is lost. I found this out the
'fun' way, at speed down the broad side of Snowbird's
Black Forest gully. In the steep snowfield above the
gully, the trees are spaced wider than below, and it
is fast going. I spotted my line through a set of loosely
placed trees about three turns before I would pass through
them. In a tight turn designed to shed some speed, the
tip of my snowboard dug in just a little too much, submarining
under the untracked powder. The result was a white plume
of airborne mist and snow, obscuring my view for the
next few turns.
Two options: tighten the turn even further into an
all out slide, in an effort to stop the board, or turn
as planned, blind, using only the memory of my planned
line. Option one would most likely stop me before I
reached the trees, but would definitely interrupt the
rhythm of the descent and wreck the snow for those above.
Option two would result in a fantastic adrenaline rush
and a terrific descent, provided that my memory was
good. In a fraction of a second, for reasons still unknown
to me (maybe it was the Mountain Dew at lunch?), I transferred
my weight and continued the line into the wall of white.
The snow felt smooth and dry. The wind at my face gave
me a feel for my speed, indicating that it was time
for another turn. This would be the moment of truth.
I tried to breath but gulped snow instead. The Dark
Satire department of my brain chided the Logistics department
for not packing my snorkel. And then before I could
comprehend the gravity of the situation, that same pair
of young firs materialized in my peripheral vision,
and the fall line came back into view. Ahead were the
thicker tress of the gully, and I carried my speed into
them, slaloming with glee all the way down. I love this
place.
 
Next up: two weeks in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The Million
Dollar Cowboy Bar, Yellowstone, and, (maybe) Corbet's
Couloir…
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