My new motto: Lose fear. Gain freedom.

Sunday was an epic day.  I'll talk about that a little bit later, but first: what's working at an elevation of 6102 feet like you ask?  A little something like this:

Please click on me to expand to full view and get the full effect of how lucky I am.

I was born and raised in Guelph, Ontario.  We have some hills, bits of farmland and a lake.  All of this mountain business is new to me.  I honestly can't get over how gorgeous everything is every single time I walk outside.  Everyday seems like I just arrived.  The sense of awe just doesn't wear off.  If you don't believe me you should come and see for yourself... and if you do believe me you should come and see it anyway.

This is the first of two open face chair lifts I take to get to work at 7:15 in the morning.

Sunday was a key day in my development as a snowboarder.  For the last little while, I had been feeling like I was plateauing and kind of just spinning my wheels.  I wasn't really getting anywhere in terms of skill progression.  I was still enjoying myself on the mountain but was slightly frustrated as well.  My first run on Sunday, I decided to stop using my brain so much.  In trying to learn snowboarding (as in every other area of my life) I was over-thinking it.  I got some great advice from some good boarders basically telling me to just go with it.  Turn off your brain and start feeling it rather than thinking it.  As hard as that was for me to do, it was so incredibly worth it.  The moment I let myself go was the moment I was carving (something I had never had much success with before).  I thought it was a fluke but I just kept on doing it. 

In addition to being a great day for developing my boarding skills, Sunday was also a very quiet day on the mountain.  There were a few times where I could not see or hear another person around me (and if you read my laundry blog then you know I enjoy my quiet time).  As awesome as the quiet I associate with laundry day is, there's just no comparison to being in the alpine.  At one point, I sat down at the crest of a slope (as I often do because my legs are still getting into boarding shape) and just completely embraced the beauty of the nature that surrounded me.  Wind whispering.  Sun shining.  Perfection.

Love at first sight exists.

Tuesday was a whole different can of worms.  It had snowed overnight which meant 30cm of fresh powder to ride.  Being an easterner - I'm used to riding icy, flat hills.  But out west, it snows like nothing else.  I had heard about the "pow" (what the cool kids call powder) and how awesome it is from experienced riders.  I rode the chairlift Tuesday morning eager to get out there on a fresh powder day.  However, I was not fully prepared for the experience that would follow.  We get off the chairlift at the top of the mountain and clipped in.  We ride down a gentle slope on the way to the main run.  At this point I am having an awesome time; I'm only riding on a bit of fresh snow so I'm gliding over it and carving like a pro.  Then we get into the main run.  Bursting with confidence from the previous 30 seconds of riding and fresh off two solid days of improvement, I'm messing around in the snow and getting far too cocky for my own good.  I decided to try riding switch (unsuccessfully) which lead to a complete wipeout/faceplant into the snow.  Normally this would not be a big deal.  It's happened many times before.  However, I was apparently far too excited about riding powder that I forgot to clip my helmet strap on.  So instead of a regular bail - I hit my head on the ground but my helmet and goggles go flying 50 feet down the slope (I was lucky it was still pretty flat terrain or they would have rolled much further).  I was a bit shaken up but I have a pretty thick skull so I was feeling just fine after a few minutes.  After grabbing my wet goggles and snow-filled helmet, I proceeded down the mountain... or tried to.  Powder is a difficult beast for a novice, eastern-bred snowboarder such as myself to conquer.  I was riding with a more experienced friend that day so we went down a run that was barely touched since the previous night's snowfall (I'm talking snow up to my butt).  Basically, the next hour went a little something like this:

Natasha rides for 5 seconds.
Natasha falls down because the powder is too deep and she lost her balance.
Natasha sits in the snow for 30 seconds.
Natasha attempts to get up unsuccessfully.
Natasha repeats the previous step.
After much effort and cursing, Natasha gets up and rides for 4 seconds.
Natasha falls again.
Natasha whines a bit or a lot depending on how stuck she is.

Repeat these steps for about an hour or so, but with the time spent sitting getting longer, the riding time getting shorter and the whining getting increasingly annoying you have Natasha's first powder experience.

Supposedly it gets easier...  I'm looking forward to riding when I can fully appreciate a powder day.  It seems impossible now, but then again - carving seemed impossible a couple days ago.  And look where I am now.

Lose fear.  Gain freedom.

Nat