64
Shaun Palmer proved himself as
the force to be reckoned with at
the Mt. Baker competition.
What is this...?
SORT OF VERBATIM
Most of these incidents are true. Only the
names were changed for THE HELL OF IT.
STORY/PHOTOS BY M.FO
It's blizzarding like nobody's business and colder than peppermint Schnapps on the eastern front. The wind's blowin' sorta
hard, yet sorta soft, but just enough to numb your cheeks so you hafta cry when you grin. It's cold, wet, wet, cold, wet and cold again.
There are actually people who will brave these conditions for the sake of fun, competition, recognition or back to just plain
fun. The glorious interest centers around the post-pubescent, winteresque activity, snowboarding. Snowboarding is what it is.
A trip all it's own, yet with a variety of influences.
An amalgam of so-called "sports" have contributed to the foundation of snowboarding, i.e. snow skiing, surfing, and
skateboarding. Snow skiing's influence centers around the understanding of snow conditions. What to expect when faced with
powder, firm pack, wind pack, crud, crust, corn, sun cups/ice and ruts. Being familiar with such conditions may make all the
difference in how to prepare yourself, and your equipment, for whatever session/excursion you may embark upon. Snowboarders
also fly off of cornices like skiers do, yet there's still a difference. Surfing's reference is evident in the flowing style carried out
while traversing snow covered mountainsides. The similarities occur with the style and body movements utilized to hold the edge
while descending the mountain in an "S" turning fashion, resembling surfing's rush, and sometimes much faster than giant
days at any big wave spot. The speed rush and sting of ice on your face is ecstacy. The contribution of skateboarding is endless.
Much of the guts, balls and edgy aerial wizardry have roots in the four-wheeled board sport. Steep walls of ravines, gulleys,
drifts, et cetera, provide ample terrain for burly maneuvers like rock 'n' rolls, method-airs, rocket airs, helicopters, 540's, pseudo-
ollies and numerous handplant variations. In fact, several of the top snowboarders in the United States are from a skateboard
background, evidence being the high visibility of the aggressive slash attack method.
This brings us to the issue at hand...
BIGFOOT HUNTING
We'd travelled what seemed like a million
miles, the two of us, my partner of many crimes,
Rod Ripstop, and myself, Me (later to be called
"Lodge Bunny" by a lithe blonde female
snowboard competitor). We set up camp at a
place called The Snowline Inn.
"By the way, is there a T.V. in the room?" I
asked the clerk.
"Some of the rooms have T.V.s-Yours doesn't."
My partner and I exchanged glances. I think
we imagined we were pissed off. It's hard to say,
we were "travel dumb."
Once in the room, we dropped our con-
spicuous luggage. I looked at Ripstop, he look-
ed corrugated. Myself, I felt like styrofoam.
Our accomodations consisted of a pseudo-
bunk-bed set, a Murphy bed (the kind that folds
out of the wall to sleep in and folds up during
sex, breaking girls' arms), a little kitchen table,
a kitchenette (complete with oven, stove, sink and
mini fridge), and a Gideon's Bible, which im.
mediately went up onto the chain dangling from
the hanging lamp, then later tagged with 16
THRASHER stickers for safety.
Now who's in charge?
We sat down at the mini-kitchen table, each
picking a wall to stare at. We agreed that every
five minutes we'd switch to a different wall, never
staring at the same wall for too long. We were
superstitious that way.
"TV" Ripstop said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Give me one of those beers," Ripstop said.
"Here. We need a TV., or we'll turn into
prunes," I said.
"Yeah," he said.
"Let's go in halves and buy one."
Ripstop went for the local yellow pages. It
looked like an ancient comic book in the days
before word bubbles.
T.V.-T.V.-T.V.-T.V.-T.V
MUST FIND
A
T.V.
The situation's desperate. From hideously star-
ing at the walls, to nauseatingly staring at each
other, we scoured for a lead to visual sanctity,
only to be found in the nearest town, an hour
away.
Since it was well past T.V. buying hours, we
lurched eleven miles downhill to the neares!
tavern, the Frosty Inn. We were told that there
might be some snowboarders there. There were
none.
"Hey, look," Ripstop said. "They've got a
satellite TV. and fish 'n' chips!"
"Hot diggity!" I said, an expression I reserve
for special occasions. "Good thing we hung the
Bible like we did. The T.V. spirits must've led us
here, yo know."
We gnarled up to the bar, ordered a round
and some fish 'n' chips, then got down to some
serious T.V. watchin'. We watched "Jerry Lee
Lewis Live" on the Playboy channel. He's older
and greyer, but still rockin'. Saw "The Honey-
mooners" on some other channel, and the
"Twilight Zone" on yet another channel.
Halfway through "The Twilight Zone," right
after I told a tableful of local hicks to "shut up,
'cause we's watchin' TV" the barmaid came over
to us and said she couldn't help overhearin' us
bitchin' about livin' in a bullshie shoebox for a
room without a T.V. She told us of a guy in the
next town (the one that's an hour away) who
rents T.V.s for about twenty something bucks a
month. He'd even deliver the "Idiot Box" to the
motel. I whip out my little Casio pocket computer
telephone memo electric diary thing and pun-
ched in the guy's name and phone number. The
barmaid calls everyone from the bar over and
they stared and gawked at the contraption in
my hand.
"Is it a TV, too?"
"Is it a radio, too?"