SNOW
PROB
LEM!
THE
AREA
BEYOND THIS
SIGN IS RUGGED
WILDERNESS AND IS NOT
PATROLLED BY THE SKI AREA. BE
PREPARED TO TAKE CARE OF ANY
EMERGENCY YOURSELF.
There we about seven of us who ducked under the rope and dropped into a dreamscape of
whine The latest stormfihad dumped almost a foot overnight and the sun was beginning to peek out from
gehind the low fast moving clouds. We had heard stories of epic rides being taken out of bounds, on the south side,
and those tales of unreal rock drops, powder chutes and log siders proved no lie. We couldn't see another set of tracks anywhere
as we blasted through loose stands of trees, whooping as we encountered unexpected delights. At any given moment, at least one of us was
in the ait Hesitation could mean disaster; you needed speed to jump over the logs and rocks without landing on them. We slashed between the trees.
worried more about surviving the next few seconds of the downhill rush than where we were going. When we stopped to regroup and rest. Sammy, the self-
appointed leader of the session, said, "Uh oh, I think we passed the point where we can got back to the ski resort
From where we were, all I could see was an impenetrable tangle of ponderosa pines. Hiking uphill in snow over our heads was not an option, so we con-
tinued down, hoping to hit the access road. As we bashed through the trees, the terrain got flatter and slower until a fall meant five minutes of trying to get
started again. We ended up in a guy separated by falls and differing speeds. I shouted ahead, but my calls were sucked up by the trees and the snow.
They could have been fifty feet away and not heard me. I began thinking how isolated I was. If I got lost our here they might not find me until the spring thaw.
I pictured myself laying in the snow dead with my board still on my feet. The sun was heading for the western horizon with more determined speed than I
had noticed before. My logs burned from an hour of constant riding. I was scared. I was getting so low on the mountain that the snow was thinning out. Soon
it was almost flat and only a few inches of snow covered the rocks. My board was taking a beating. I pictured myself whipping Sammy dead and his wife as
my slave. I passed a cross-country ski trail and know I was really far down the mountain. Ahead I saw a black stripe and had to refocus before I realized it
was the road. I pooled off my parka and sat down. My thumb was ready but it wasn't needed. It was so late in the day that I was lucky to find a ride up with
some aftemoon snowboarders who rounded the bend after about fifteen minutes. As I hopped in the back of the pickup. I asked the driver how far down 1
was. "About two turns from the highway," he answered. I had ridden about eight miles down the mountain. We spotted more lost snowboarders around a
curve and loaded them too Two mies up the road, Sammy was thumbing for a scarce ride back up. The driver slowed down and said, "Sorry dude, I'm too
full to take you up, my chains are banging the fender already" So we headed up, leaving Sammy standing by the side of the road. -Me Cornelius
SO THA
Bringing the streets to the slopes,
Brett Johnson (spread) 50/50s a
natural rail at Vail Pass.
Jibbing amidst a litter of obstacles.
Brian Igucchi (opposite) punches a j
picnic table of Bear Mountain.