get in a few runs before going to the mogul event.
Schmitt took us through a run that looked like
a cliff with giant mounds of snow on it. This kind
of run usually has the effect of shortening my
life span by about five years. We got to the site
of the contest ("Mach 1") just in time to see Ken
Achenbach take a run. He blazed down the
course, throwing in a 360° air and a big method
on a hill that resembled the one
Schmitt just subjected us to. The
mogul event was run head-to-
head and racers were judged on
speed through the bumps, style
and two airs which they were re-
quired to do on the way down.
Each maneuver could receive a
maximum of 2.5 points. Each fall
reduced their total score by two
points. Don't ask me how you
judge such an event because it
looked pretty impossible to me.
Judges had been given one red
and one blue over-sized lollipop-
type device which they held up
about five seconds after each heat
to determine who would advance
and who was history. Adding to
the confusion was the fact that the
announcer had trouble remem-
bering who everyone was and
what they were doing here. I gave
up trying to figure it out and just
hoped that Bert Lamar would win.
We watched the finals of both
genders and then went back to do
some boarding ourselves. We ran
into the legendary Bad H(Hester)
and the rest of the G&S crew on
the hill. They invited us to go heli-
boarding with them the following
morning. We took a couple of runs
and ended up down at the half-
pipe where everyone was getting
in some late practice for the next
day. Many of yesterday's and to-
an hour and a half of full-on powder boarding
to reach the bottom from the drop off point. The
helicopter pilot advised us of unfriendly elements
in the area, but everyone was so stoked that the
message went unheeded. Well, almost un-
heeded. I heard it.
As the copter reached the drop off point we
piled out, strapped in and began to partake of
into a full thirty-foot slide, reaching a safety spot
just in time to look back and see Gunnar carve
a full bottom turn, smack the lip and disappear
into the white thunder as it rolled past me down
the hill. Down...down...
"HEY! Dude! Wake up. What's your trip? You
must have been dreaming or something." "Yeah,
I, uh...forget it." "Yeah, right. Here, have a
pop tart." A nightmare pop tart.
Neat.
B.K. lofts off the steep and into the blue on a panoramic Breckenridge slope.
day's best skaters along with some
of the hottest snowboarders were
tearing it up, including Bert Lamar, Brad Bow-
man, Sonny Miller, Don Szabo, and some Euro-
pean skaters. Everyone was there until they
couldn't see anymore. Then they made a bedine
for the hotel jacuzzi.
When I got back to the condo it was late, but
I was still alive, a fact for which I am surely
grateful. Joel answered the door. "Sleep on the
floor," he said.
The sun was just climbing over the mountains
as we pulled into the Peak 8 parking lot.
Everyone was there. Billy Ruff, Rex Kaye, Henry
Hester, Steve Cathey, Joel, Chantry, Bryce, 13
of us in all. Bad luck? I hoped not. Who's that?
Gunnar Haugo!!? Inventor of the Indy Air (sorry,
Duane) and the frontside Christie on coping. We
were in legendary company, indeed. The blin-
ding gust of snow caused by the whirling blades
of our newly rented ride had everyone reaching
for their goggles. We climbed into the copter and
headed for the hills. Rumor had it that it takes
some heavy-duty snowboarding. Hester and
Gunnar were doing 720% off of 40-foot cornices.
Billy ripped a frontside unit off of a steep wall.
It seemed too good to be true. Unfortunately,
it was, As we reached the first stop point we
discovered that we were not alone. A skiler had
made the descent with us and had stopped about
thirty yards away. His message was clear. "HEY
YOU! Buncha city-boy yahoos! Take those trays
you're riding back to the cafeteria!" Upon com-
pletion of this sentence he lobbed a small
explosive device toward us. The resulting explo-
sion caused a cornice above us to collapse and
we found ourselves trying to outrun an ava-
lanche. Everyone did their best Hut tuck and
downhilled it for their lives. One mistake here
and you're a permanent popsicle. Somehow
Gunnar seemed to almost enjoy it, as if he were
surfing a big day at Waimea, playing with the
edge of the avalanche as if it were the lip of a
wave. I came out of my tuck and threw the board
I had made a most unfortunate
mistake of spending the previous
day without any sunglasses or
goggles. I was now the owner of
two of the most sunburnt pupils
in the Western hemisphere. Hey,
I'm a yahoo from the city,
remember? How am I supposed
to know about those kinds of
things? Luckily, I was saved by
Ken from Style Eyes who set me
up with a gratis pair of Microlites
which prevented further corneal
massacre.
I got to the half-pipe during the
practice and checked the whole
thing out with my newly-repaired
vision. Off to the side of the half-
pipe there was a one-hit launch
ramp that the snowboarders were
working for everything it was
worth. As soon as the practice
was over, the qualifying heats
began. Damian Sanders looked
good with his usual Sanders ap-
proach to the half-pipe. Keith
Kimmel from Barfoot decided to
be a blond for his qualifying runs
and it seemed to help. He blazed.
Kemper Snowboards had a top
qualifier, too. The U.S. snow-
boarders in both the men's and
women's divisions seemed to
dominate the half-pipe, whereas
the Europeans tended to rule the
slalom events.
Steve from Swatch had as-
sumed the announcing duties and was doing a
much better job than the guy who announced
the moguls. I watched the men's and women's
finals and then headed for the awards ceremony
and racer's meeting where the results were
announced and plans were set for the next day's
downhill event, which we would not be in on due
to flight restrictions. I made the rounds and said
good-byes to all those who I knew or would
admit to knowing me. "Has anybody seen
Gunnar?" "Nope. Haven't seen him since this
morning" Could it? Nah, it couldn't be.
Back at the condo we thanked Joel for his
hospitality and packed up our gear. We headed
to the rental car for the two-hour trek back to
Denver. Bryce turned on the radio. "...and now
the local news. We have as yet unconfirmed
reports that an avalanche occured this morning
in the resort town of Breckenridge." I was dream-
ing...wasn't I? I couldn't be sure anymore. I was
burnt. Crisp. Done.
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