Carson Patch
AFTER A RELENTLESS SEASON of being pounded by storm after storm, the sum
mer came around and no one was ready to quit. Fortunately there was so much snow
left that the high country stoke kept going until fall. Word of a heavily sessioned patch fil-
tered its way to SF where it fell into the ears of Thrasher Magazine. And so, on the last day
of summer, Sacto's renown N-Men gave us a chance to spoil the fun for everybody else.
After winding our way up some dirt roads near Kirkwood on Carson Pass, we arrived at a
high alpine meadow where, nestled in one of the surrounding peaks, was a football field's
worth of snow. Several crappy kickers with flat bomb hole landings were in effect as well as
a dangerously wobbly handrail that surprisingly failed to dispense any serious injuries. All
agreed that modifications were in order else the money shot was not going to be had. A
new kicker was required and so a sketchy little gap was built.
With all the cameras clicking away, the locals soon became disoriented. Thinking they were
at Hood, folks began to step up to the kickers for their moment of glory. Several skiers ruled
the jumps, powering through the bumpy slush to huck oversized contorto-grabs. More than
one snowboarder was crushed by the retardedness of the gap. In particular, one inexperi-
enced female boarder, in a desperate gambit for the elusive 50/50, repeatedly bashed her-
self into the handrail. Showing awe-inspiring tenacity, she then proceeded to repeatedly come
up short on the gap. Undaunted, she hurled herself into the far wall till she had to be Medi-
Vac'd for a dislocated brain. Anticipate her pro model in stores any time now.
On this sad note we decided to retire to our windy and miserable campground. A huge
bonfire was built while in an adjacent campground a ragin' kegger was being held by some
jocks from the Sierra College Of Animal Husbandry. Over a cold dinner of freeze-dried water
we discussed approaching Japanese investors with the concept of turning this place into a
Sierra version of Mount Hood. Calls were made on the cellular. By midnight we had struck a
deal with a Pacific Rim conglomerate. The following morning we met their representatives, col-
lected our money, and hightailed it as pipedragons and Japanese campers were airlifted in.
As we wound our way down through the scenic mountain roads, everyone was overcome
with a powerful sense of fulfillment. Sentimental tears were shed as the realization of
how blessed we were dawned on us. Having been given the opportunity, we
were able to promote a positive future for generations to come and
had contributed to the overall progression of our
sacred sport. -Dom Callan
The patch of
snow (spread) of Carson
Pass wasn't much, but at
least it was something.
An unknown ruffian
(left) takes a method
launch to a three-point
landing. Amy Comeau
(above) had it wired.
The nights at Carson
Pass (opposite top)
were icy cold and Regis
Rolland was bundled up.
Frontside half-Cab Indy
(montage) by Eric Tervo.
Justin Cox (far right) takes
a ride on a backside lip-
slide. Luke (right) brought
the kindling on his back.