This year, if you have previously red my blog you would know, but for those who have not had the opportunity scroll down and click on heading or title called “Not A Laughing Matter” and you will understand this post more. Anyway, I broke some ribs back in January and have been trying to get back on the wagon ever since. Needless to say, I have been hurt before, but I have recovered and kept trucking. However, rumors have proven to be true and broken ribs are the injury that keep on giving. For me it is not a gift in daily pain, but a memory that needs to be overcome. A memory creating a mental block that reminds me what it feels like to have your chests structure rearranged through blunt force.

Anyway, on that note, last week I ventured out to Salt Lake City, and competed in the US Freeskiing Nationals in Snowbird. The snow was dreamlike on the Monday when I drove into town through a blinding blizzard; and Tuesday was great, despite the fact that every powder hungry skier in the state of Utah miraculously had work off to ski that day. The 14in of fresh snow that had fallen,,, was flattened by 10:30. Needless to say however, it was fun and it gave a lot of hope for the competition that started in two days. However, that afternoon the sun came out and by the time we drove down the canyon into the city it was 65 degrees. The following few days leading to the competition were followed by much of the same. Temp rose to 65 to 75 degrees in the city and well over 50 at the resorts. The snow was cooked into a firm chalk, and skied hard as the resort does not see the benefit of closing the venues before the competition.

So the stage is set:

Wary due to the snow, week from atrophy, and timid in general, combined with horrific conditions. Perfect for a competition…

Needless to say, you can sense my cynicism for the situation, but I signed up anyway. I figured I was there, and the camaraderie is why I was there anyway, so I committed to the event. I wish I could say I overcame the adversity and skied my little heart out, but unfortunately I remained timid and skied like I was fearful of everything I have been doing for six years. I guess that is why sports psychologists do so well, but the head games got a hold of me. As I dropped in for my competition run I was questioning my own actions. Out of the gate I had a few turns before I pointed towards my first air, which was a solid 35-foot cliff with a hard pack landing. I landed on my feet but hit hard and skidded out a little, but recovered quickly enough to make the right footed turn towards my next chosen air. A few more turns, a speed check, and then air- born again over a 20ft rock into a bump field. The landing was bulletproof and my knees buckled hard into my fragile chest as I landed. After a sketchy but quick recovery I headed towards the point of no return and into a mandatory clif area. One more 15-foot drop and then I scurried across the slope to my last air. As I skied up onto the last rock area I changed my mind from my original plan and decided to hit the low speed cliff drop as apposed to the high-speed drop. As I took off the 20-foot drop my trajectory became clear and I could see just how flat the landing I was about to endure really was. As my skis hit they broke through the chalky snow and sent my body forward. I knew I was going down, so I tucked my chin to my chest and miraculously came out of the front flip maneuver landing back on my skis, skiing towards the finish without my head or body touching the ground. However, my frame of mind reflected the way I skied and so did my score.

I am lucky I skied away unscathed given my frame of mind, but lets just say the next day during the finals I was glad to be spectator. The snow was one hot day older and harder, and the venue more serious. Furthermore it was great to be with an awesome group of people at the bottom cheering on the weekend’s gladiators

Testing skis is always a little challenging, yet interesting to see what different manufacturers are able to create in a sport where many view skis as just skis. However, shapes, glues, cores, etc. all vary from company to company as skis alike have changed so drastically in the last few years it is hard to follow industry trends. As I have grown up in the industry, I have experienced many changes in the designs of skis from straight 210cm long with no side cut and 35mm under foot, to skis 170cm long and 140mm under foot with double rocker tips, reverse camber construction, and cores made out of materials only created in high tech chemistry labs. Over time I have developed an affinity for trying different skis, but when the skis we are testing are specifically designed to be used on slightly better conditions then we were dealing with at Copper Mountain this week, the experience is a little more challenging.

Testing “Big Mountain” skis specifically designed for powder on snow comparable to a world cup, H20 hyper injected slope was a little difficult. While it provided the testers as well as the magazine editors a new idea of what skis should be able to do, it was a challenge to judge skis designed for powder on their ability to make GS turns. Copper had not received snow in weeks and the high winds had scalped every last amount of soft snow off the mountain and deposited it on the planes of Kansas. The snow was comparable to ice or chalk, which to our dismay made the testing difficult and uneventful, but as a result we were able to test the skis from a different perspective. Yeah, everyone knows that skis are more fun when the snow is soft, but if we all bought skis and went skiing only when the snow was good there are many skis that work well for that purpose only. However, given that the snow is always different and the theme of winter seems to be constantly changing and unpredictable conditions, we want a ski that handles in all circumstances. This year’s test was a true investigation into the skis that are going to perform on those days you wish you had stayed home on the couch.

Furthermore, the Freeskier crew was in full affect and the testers involved with the week’s event were all in rare form and ready for a good time. Aside from shot gunning Red Bull and partaking in the consumption of many fermented beverages, the week was rather tame. Unfortunately I was not able to partake in many of the evening’s adventures, as I was staying 35 miles west in Avon, CO, so maybe my perspective of the week was rather skewed as every morning the stories of the previous nights antics were plentiful. All in all it was a great experience and for sure there are a lot of great skis coming out on the market next season. Just remember as you read the reviews in the magazine next fall, the skis were not exactly put to a fair test, but if a ski can handle on the hard pack it will get you down the powder gracefully and back to the chairlift with ease.

After leaving Jackson we took off to Salt Lake City yet again. We embarked on the first, and hopefully annual, Big LePowSki at Brighton, UT. The event was started by Black Diamond and Backcountry.com to give participants the opportunity to yuck it up with some of their favorite professionals as well as ski and get some pointers on the art of skiing and riding. Pros from both Black Diamond’s and Backcountry.com’s teams came from around North America to teach and assist in the event. Veterans like Chris Davenport, and up and coming starts like Callum Petit, as well as other like Sage C. Alosa, Cody Barnhill, Julian Carr, Carston Oliver, Mark Welgos, Myself (Toot Toot), and many more.

The day started with the participants signing up for the perspective class in a discipline they wanted to improve on. These included, “Learn to Spin a 360, Air Awareness, See a line and ski it, Steep Skiing, Freeskiing 101, Air Sense, and Drop a cliff.” I teamed up with Sage C-Alosa teaching “Air awareness” in the morning. However, we were challenged with the conditions not only because both he and I are big mountain skiers and the snow was not applicable for big cliff dropping, but the crew we were teaching were on all different levels and abilities. We tried to go through the park, but we were both intimidated by the firm to very firm conditions, se we opted to get our group skiing small lines and dropping smaller cliffs. Given the conditions, it was pretty hard to find anything we were all willing to jump off, but props out to our “students” who were surprisingly stoked to try anything we deemed “safe.” Enthusiastically our group skied lines and pushed their limits, which was made the experience enjoyable, as we were able to see our group progress through the morning session.

After lunch I taught a class called “Choose a line and ski it.” Given the firm snow and intimidating conditions this class was a little difficult to teach, as my group was not really looking to ski a line the way I see a line, yet were all enthusiastic to ski none- the-less. Lines to me involve going through varied terrain with the intent to jump off or avoid cliffs, yet my group was more interested in a line through the bumps or learning how to look at a slope differently.

Either way the experience was fun and the sun was out. The group of athletes and organizer that were involved were all amazing and the stoke level was high. The word on the street is that they (Backcountry and Blakc Diamond) will be doing the event again next year, so stay tuned for you chance to ski with some of the industries icons at the next Big LePowSki.

After five and a half weeks on the recovery train, I got back on skis today and felt pretty good. After breaking some ribs back in the end of December, it has been an arduous endeavor and has taken a lot of patience to just relax and not move, as well as a lot of help from a special someone to get through it. However, after getting back on skis today I realized that I had not missed a lot as far as the snow conditions, but it was fun to be frolicking with gravity yet again. While it was fun to be out on snow again there is definitely that voice in the back of my head screaming not to get hurt because the memory of absolute agony is fresh on my pallet. None-the-less, the confidence will build with time and the innate joy for skiing will reappear.

It did not take long on the couch for me to realize how special it is to have your health and mobility. Furthermore, how lucky I, as well as others that are to be able to ski really are. Skiing is a unique sport and it is special to be able to participate in such a rigorous activity. However, now that I am able to ski again I hope it starts snowing so we can all enjoy the rest of the season. From here I am off to Salt Lake City to follow some snow, but the radar is looking a little less promising then the rumors floating around of “this huge storm that is coming.” I’ll just have to go see for myself.

Behind every situation there is a hidden meaning. Sometimes this can be some type of subliminal message conveyed or carried out as a result of many factors like karma, fate, or destiny, but the true meaning holds the answer yet is all in the eyes of the beholder. For instance, everyone has been some place and experienced a weird feeling like, “what if I was there..?” or “What if I had boarded that plane..?” “What if I had accepted the invitation and I was there when that happened..? Would of, could of, should of are all things we say when it comes to remembering the past and thinking about buying stalk in Apple 30 years ago, but in other situations the only thing to say is, “Thank (god) I was not there.”

Whatever the situation, sometimes the fate that we are delivered, no matter how depressing or miserable at the moment, may be better then the alternative. Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but maybe that grass is only green because of chemicals and toxins applied in order to make it thrive vindictively. In the situation I experienced the other day, any grass was greener then my bed or the couch where I was forced to remain in as a result of a few broken ribs, however, the call I received a few days later explaining what I had missed made my day on the couch seem like a day at 1900’s brothel.

I was invited on a trip to go explore a remote location to shoot some ski photography. Like I mentioned, I had to decline the invitation as a result of some fracture ribs that I suffered a few days before – luckily. Make a long story short, the group ventured out despite my absence, but afterward they wished they had been in bed with me. To sugarcoat the situation would do it no justice, but needless to say they had an experience they would all never forget.

After leaving the trail head at 5:00am to take photos at sun rise, they were hoping to ski a face that was directly east facing and had great light in the morning was their goal, although as the photographer dropped on to the face to get into position, the whole face slid to the ground leaving the entire area un-ski-able. It took the photographer for a short ride, but the snow slid so quickly it left him standing in the middle of the slope almost on grass. He realized he was in trouble when the slope started moving so he had unfortunately dropped the midget sized backpack full of camera equipment. At the time it was the best call, as the 50lbs would sure be the end of him had be been buried. Luckily he was able to self- arrest– but the bag went to the bottom and was buried.

After spending three hours digging to find the bag, they hiked to another zone in a last effort to get some photos out of the day. They skinned up to another peak, but as the first athlete prepared to make a few turns on a slope, and maybe get some work done, he broke his binding stepping into his ski. At this point the snow gods had spoken and sent them a strong message, so they willingly hiked back to where they had left the snowmobiles to graciously walk away unscathed. However, as they walked up to where they had parked the sleds, they noticed something was not right. While they had been out, the sun had wormed the snow so much it had created a flow of water below the snow surface. Therefore, the weight of the sled was enough to find a hollow spot in the snow, and had fallen through to the creek it was unknowingly parked on top of. At this point they were baffled and astonished by their stroke of bad luck. They could only laugh at the situation and start digging a path to get it out. They dug and dug for a few hours, as the sled was many feet below the snow level and in the creek. However to make things worse, as they started to load up and excitedly get back to the cars to go home, one of the other sleds would not start. They pulled and pulled on the starter cord, but with one last thrust the cord snapped and the now unguided energy of the pullers hands followed through and hit the other guy standing behind him in the nose. The force was enough to make is nose start to bleed profusely, but furthermore the sled was kaput.

They were left in the back country with four people, one snowmobile, minimal daylight, remaining, no more food, and miles ahead of them in order to get back to the cars. Frantic, frustrated, and I am sure astonished by what they had experienced, they tied some ropes and straps together and stared towing each other to the trail head. However, the snowmobile was not designed for towing three people and not long into the journey the belt snapped. After spending the time necessary to change out the spare, they could not get the clutch to spin. Supposedly some pieces of the belt sheared off and clogged the wheels that make the clutch spring engage, so without the proper tools and experiences it meant this sled was kaput as well.

At this point I was home on the couch most likely enjoying my third movie of the day, as these guys were out in the back country-exchanging expletive after expletive trying to make sense of the situation. However, light was fading and their options were limited. Flabbergasted and without a doubt on the last string of patience for the day, they started to walk. Fifteen hours after they had left the cars that morning, they walked up to the parking lot. With two empty trailers, they drover home; defeated, angry, but more perplexed by the situation then anything.

I received a call a few days later explaining what I had missed. I really had no response except, “Shitty!” Overwhelmed by what I was hearing, I was somewhat elated to have declined the offer, but more shocked such ironic and implausible misfortune had become a reality.

“Next time you’ll get the cover shot guys.”

The other day I ventured out into the back country to film with Two Plank Productions. After digging out snowmobile after snowmobile for two days on the way up to the location we wanted to ski, we were pretty confident about the snow pack in the particular valley where we were playing. Having involuntarily dug numerous pits on the way up, we expected the conditions to be similar to the light fluff that we had experienced. The snow was so light and fluffy that is was nearly impossible to snowmobile. The slightest hesitation left you spinning straight down as your forward momentum was lost and you were yet again getting out a shovel. Over the two days it took us to break the trail, including time dealing with Jeff Berman’s Dukes of Hazard experience where he was broadsided by a 60’s steel Toyota Land Cruiser, the sun had been out and the conditions were ever changing. The sun had come out the day before, although the temperature hadn’t gotten much above two degrees Celsius, however the snow that was once ready for the Champagne cork to pop, was turning into a fleeting window of opportunity before it was totally cooked.

Yesterday however the sun was not only out, but it was on high. As we skinned up the south ridge we found the snow to be conspicuously different on every aspect we crossed. We could feel the snow change as it started to stick to our skis and clump on the bottom of our skins. We could feel the temperature change as the sun melted snow off of the trees and baked our exposed skin. My buddy Bunt and I took turns crossing precarious slopes on the way up, but with nothing moving or settling we felt semi confident about the conditions. When we both got to our respective lines, we spoke with Corey at the bottom. Corey had perched himself on a hill looking at the slope to film, so he gave us a play by play of where we were expecting to ski.

On the way up I periodically checked the snow for texture, depth, and density and at no point did I question our decision to ski that zone. However, after I had gotten my gear together and looked down the line the sun was hot. My skis were on and I was ready as Corey said, “Rolling!”

I pensively dropped in and made two turns above the cliff. The snow felt solid yet soft, however when I reached the end of the rock I saw there was a wind drift in my landing. I expected the landing to be firm, but the dense snow was more then I anticipated. My skis hit the firm snow instantly driving my knees toward my chest. Unfortunately my elbow followed the path of gravity and lowered between my knee and chest just as my body compressed together. The impact from the 50ft cliff was enough to press my chest so hard into my plastic protected elbow that it fractured a few of my ribs. Immediately I knew something was wrong as I skied towards Corey who was operating the camera just below me. I removed my gear and inspected my chest like a JV football coach. I did not know what I was looking for, but I looked anyway.

A short while later, after deciphering the best way to get back given the situation, I hopped on my snowmobile and cautiously drove down. I felt surprisingly in control and in a lot less pain then I expected when we reached the road, so I asked the others if they wanted to go check on our buddies who were building a jump up another valley. Feeling confident in my body’s condition, I thought it would be okay to go help the others and hang out, since we were already in the backcountry. When we arrived to the others location however, we found the jump building had turned into the typical backcountry junk-show and there were snowmobiles stuck all over the last hill that had to be overcome to get to the jump location. After looping around the group, we drove the track to smooth it out so as to help the smaller sleds make it up the hill. When I came through the trees to make another pass, one of the sleds were stuck in the path so I was forced to leave the track and tempt the fresh powder with half the speed I would have needed to make the top. Needless to say I got stuck, as I was unable to maneuver the sled with my throbbing chest. When I stepped off the sled I looked at Tanner Rainville who was stuck below me and jokingly said, “shitty.”

Eager to get moving I climbed on to my sled to cross over to the lower side so I could start digging it out, but as I stepped over, my boot slipped and I fell chest first on to the handlebars. Landing on the ribs that I had damaged earlier, I clearly answered my previous question wondering if they were broken. Well, they were, and the second impact on the sled was just enough to separate the bones and drive one in and the other side out. The sound of the grinding bones resonated through my body just as the shocking pain of tearing muscle tissue tore screams of agony out of my vocal cords. I fell off the sled into the snow in complete shock, all the while possessing a heightened empathy for those who have been shot or stabbed.

I was not worried at first, but as I tried to move I found the pain to be intolerable. Every muscle attached to my ribs pulled and separated the bones as I tried to wiggle into a comfortable position. However, as I sat in the snow pondering my options I knew that I had to get out of the back country and time was of the essence. My options were get search and rescue or suck it up and start moving. Corey, being a member of the Fire Dept. as well as the Search and Rescue in Crested Butte, had a radio to the dispatch ready, but stubborn and determined I knew either option was going to be painful. Zipping my coat to conceal my obviously deformed chest, I ardently climbed on to the back of Corey’s sled as we started down the hill. At first I was able to hold on and control my motions, but as we started up the other side Corey had to drop the hammer to cross the fresh powder snow without getting stuck, but the bumps, vibration, and rocking back and forth were too much to handle. I screamed over the sound of the engine in total agony for him to stop. Barley able to compose clear words I begged for another option. I told him there was no way I was going to be able to hold on given the hills that we were still up against in order to get back to the road. I thought it might be better if I drove my own sled because that way I would be able to predict the motion and act accordingly.

I sat with tear filled eyes as Corey and Bunt went to dig out my sled. The group started lapping the dauntingly steep slope looming in front of me to smooth out an unmistakable trail for me to follow. Apprehensively watching and fearing the inevitable, I could feel the separated ribs tearing the surrounding muscle tissue with each nervous breath. I tried ardently to slow my panicked breathing, but the combination of pain and panic had me hyperventilating like a nun in a brothel. After preparing myself mentally for what had to happen, I bit down on my zipper and lurched the sled forward before grabbing a fist full of throttle. Holding on to the sled with all the energy I could muster, the miles started to click off as we made our way down to the trail head. Time could not have gone any slower on the way down as every bump and turn caused havoc on my pain tolerance.

After a visit to the hospital, I learned that I fractured two ribs and tore the cartilage connecting them. The muscle tissue between the ribs connecting to my abdominal, latissimus, and serratus muscles was torn when the ribs separated upon the second impact on the snowmobile handlebars. I guess I can take a lot away from this experience, such as go home after you know one thing is wrong with your body, but I never thought laughing would hurt so badly.

For the past eight years the start of the ski season has kicked off with one of my unique pleasures. Humbly setting me back to my roots of ski racing, and all the while enhancing my respect for those that have perfected the art of gliding down ice at unfathomable speeds, the Birds of Prey World Cup is a spectacle that has to be seen in order to understand. Watching the world’s best ski racers tear down a mountain at speeds only imaginable through the use of motorized assistance, the race not only inspires me to wear a helmet, but also inspires me to respect the fearless gladiators of the sport.

The Birds of Prey takes place in Beaver Creek, CO and is the only American stop of the International World Cup Tour. Taking place at the start of December each year, the race not only signifies the start of the season, but also offers a glimpse into the actions of the true warriors of skiing. With the opportunity to get on the course and slip the track during the race, I can attest to the seriousness for the sport that TV cameras may not capture. The track is prepped for days before the race with thanks to many volunteers and the local Ski Club Vail. Much like washing your car will make it rain, planning a race in Beaver Creek will make it snow. Therefore, hours are spent removing snow and preparing the sheet of ice they call the track. Hundreds of man hours go into the icing down of the entire slope through the use of hydro injected water cannons, along with the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of fencing and safety nets that are set in place and suspended along the length of the course. Banners and TV cameras line the course, sponsor and VIP tents fill the finish area, while bleachers stand proudly saluting the massive TV screen awaiting the brilliant athletic display from the world’s best skiers.

The atmosphere in the finish area is anxious with spectators, media, and race personnel from around the world. For two minutes at 70MPH, in a game of millimeters the athletes race at freeway speeds protected by a thin plastic shell on their heads and a spandex suit on their bodies. This event keeps you on your toes, if not because they are cold, but for the thrill of watching athletes battle gravity, pure focus, and milliseconds. However, the situation at the start is totally different. Athletes roam lethargically trying to shake their nerves while stretching and visualizing the race with TV cameras stuffed in their faces documenting their every move. Coaches meticulously prep and tend to their athlete’s skis like mothers giving their baby a first bath. As the beep of the starting timer ticks through the start list the tension builds towards each racers moment of glory when they step in the gate and see the finish between their tips 2000ft below.

With the icy conditions, slipping the course was difficult to slip, which made it hard to imagine racing down it at the fastest speed possible. The firm snow was not only difficult to turn on, but with my Big Mountain skis, which are slightly less then “race” ready, the task was more of a challenge then I expected. The ice was so firm that skates would have been more appropriate for the task. After seeing some of the crashes up close however, I could only imagine how relentless the ice had to be on the body. For those who crashed at high speeds, the icy surface offered no cushion for the fall and appeared as if their momentum did not slow until they hit a fence. Scary for most, thrilling for others, the race is more then an event but a way of life for many and provides a brief look at the European winter sport of choice. America’s misunderstanding of the sport is clear when you talk to those in the south about skiing, but the race in Beaver Creek can be inspiring even to those who have never put ski boots on before. No engines, just muscle and heart drive the racers to experience the same forces and similar consequences of a Nascar driver. Sounds incredible, but you have to see it to understand.

At the end of the weekend one man came out victorious above the others, but furthermore over his own adversities. Aksel Lund Svindal won both the DH and SG after being evacuated from the same hill with major injuries just one year prior. His performance at Beaver Creek exemplifies the power and perseverance of the mind. In an athletic event or the tribulations of life, the mind is what carries the body and heart to do great things and Aksel proved it in Beaver Creek. He obviously set his sights and goals on returning to the world cup with vengeance, but dominating on the hill that almost took his leg was not only a comeuppance, but a feat of mental domination.

Needless to say the event went off without a hitch. The parties and events in the village put on buy Universal Sports and others were a great opportunity to meet some of the athletes and socialize with some of the coaches and crew. However, now that this experience has passed and the winter has officially begun, it is time to embark on winter activities of our own. The snow is falling and the temperature has dropped low enough that even some natives have run south of the boarder to escape the cold. That must mean it is time to start skiing.

Skiing tests the mind’s ability to react instantaneously to its immediate surroundings. Complacently hovering inches above the geological formations of Earth, separated merely by a pillow of granulated frozen water, it’s the most rewarding sensation experienced by minimal exertion. Unprecedented amounts of latent risk are simply no match for a skier’s motive. Performing acts of athletic brilliance while dancing symbiotically with gravity has the ability to relieve confounding societal affairs.

To explain this feeling entails more than just an understanding of sport. For example, anyone can explain how to hit a baseball and appear as if they understand the bat vs. ball conundrum. However, even when the best skiers explain the feeling of skiing a powder run, it may still come across as gibberish or uneducated chatter even to someone who understands “skier lingo.” The unfamiliarity comes from the difficulty of expressing a particular emotion or sensation amidst the multitude experienced throughout every run.

Skiing’s varying factors exponentially change and create something new and exciting for each participant day to day. Each adventure yields a different, new, and enlightening yet inexplicable set of emotions. Each turn contains a different feeling or end result based on many variables and the amount of effort exerted. Emotions, conditions, and physical ability can skew one’s experience thus making an explanation of “the best run ever” seem like an enigmatic puzzle to those whom did not experience it for themselves.

The successes of skiing correlate directly to the efforts prior to and during the particular performance. For instance, strength of the body will make each turn more enjoyable, and strength of the mind will bring you one step closer to allowing tacit assent to your inner desires. Every turn yields a mysterious reward or unique feeling, where the harder you try the more rewarding the experience can be. Skiing is an activity of freedom and personal desire, even granting the most contrite or reprobate individual an escape from reality while frolicking methodically with nature.

However, there is an obvious gap in the understanding of skiing between the quintessential “weekend warriors” and the professionals who have progressed the sport. The common skier’s timid approach prevents a total understanding of the possibilities, as fear and apprehension linger lucidly in their actions. Nonetheless, some have developed a precocious and intrepid ability to defy the physics that apply to the mere mortals that have yet to discover the loopholes in gravity. Skiers have taken the limits of a motor less sport to the boundaries of human capability.

Many can watch and assume competence, but a true understanding of skiing, at a level where the consequences are pungent and palpable, can only be experienced. Performing each trick or turn, knowing it could be your last, yet remaining confidant and resolute in your actions is a skill only acquired through experience. The feeling of gliding down a snow-covered mountain with the intent to fly is the most exhilarating and emotionally powerful experience.

Despite an unprecedented amount of eminent risk and consequences associated with a sport that gambles with the forces of nature, skiing has something to offer everyone at every level. No matter what your ability (even if you just get dressed up in ski gear to enjoy the après-ski scene), skiing is a sport with a community built on passion and personal vindication. There may be a gap between levels, and therefore, an understanding of the sport’s limits, however the community and atmosphere itself is the reason people ski and not to defy the laws of physics. The vibe of a ski town can be felt and experienced by people on many levels, as the experience goes above and beyond the skiing itself. Being outside with friends and family while challenging your physical abilities and playing with nature is the reason skiing compels people to bundle up and brave the elements. Skiing, while sometimes cumbersome and awkwardly uninviting, can encapsulate your mind in a euphoric sense of freedom and become a part of who you are.

As the 08-09 winter season starts, and the snow begins to mask the imperfections of Earth, I will be sharing some of my experiences with you. I hope to convey the true nature of the sport from a unique perspective. Some stories will touch upon a particular jump, turn, or experience, while some will portray the camaraderie shared among the sport’s participants. Either way, a community has been created around the sport of swooshing down snow, and I hope you can all experience some aspect of its brilliance and use my words as motivation to either go skiing or experience something new in the process of life.

As the spring slowly takes over and the snow starts to melt, we all change our frame-of-mind to things like sandals and other warm activities. This year is unique however. Despite the closing of the resorts weeks ago, we have continued to film in the backcountry trying to enjoy every last day of the winter we have been so fortunate to experience.

Yesterday, after hiking up to the top of a line I took out my avalanche probe, which is eight feet long, to test the snow pack - I did not touch the bottom. This was an epic season and it�s far from over with storms on the radar for the next few days. We could be out skiing powder again here very soon and with the best snow pack in decades we could be skiing well into the summer.

For now here are a few pictures from the last few days, but I hope you are able to check out this seasons video from Two Plank Productions called �Set In Motion.� It has been an epic season and I hope we are able to share some of the experiences from our endeavors with you.

Tamok, Norway � After many cups of coffee and some Finish style oatmeal for breakfast the anticipation started building. Outside the window the pilot is taking off the bird (Polly�s) pajamas as we got our gear together, change radio batteries, check beacons, pack a lunch and prepared for the day. With three or four languages being spoken all around me, I tune out most of the gibberish and concentrate on my elation. With Bob Marley playing on the stereo, the leader of the group reads off group orders for take off and pick up. Our group was first today, so I knew it was time to get outside as I could see the pilot topping off Polly�s tanks with Jet-A silhouetted against a pristine blue sky.

My excitement was hard to contain as I ponder the reality of this situation. All around me people from different nations prepare and ponder, but everyone here has a different goal. Some are new to the big mountains riding scene and are here to gain some fruitful experience, while others have already set first descent lines off peaks like Denali, Robson, and other in Russia and Alaska. It did not matter what I was there for, but the fact that I was putting on my ski boots 6000 miles from home was enough to give me goose bumps. Knowing that we are flying a helicopter in an area of the world that helicopters have never been flown in before is special, but the area itself is beautiful enough to make you confess your sins.

However, the conditions were an encumbrance for concern with no way to describe it aside from dust on crust. As you may have read in my first post from this trip, the weather in this is very extreme and I was wrong about the warm temperatures. While we were in Oslo and Tromso for the days before we came to meet the group the weather was mild. Light snow and rain, but warm considering our geographic location. However, after the bad weather we had experienced the first few days the skies cleared and the heat left. Today it was -28C with a wind chill of about -34C. Therefore, all the warm weather and new snow that had fallen was more than frozen and the wind effected many slopes into a hard crust. However, this morning the wind died and left us with a few cm of fresh snow on top of the bullet proof crust. This was not the conditions any of us were hoping for, but the stability in the snowpack allowed us to ski some steeper and usually un-skiable lines. However, as I got ready I put on layer after layer to prepare for the landing at the top of a peak after not working to get there which is enough to shock your senses. With all my skin covered and gear locked down we walked out to the copter where the pilot Andreas was waiting with a smile on his face.

We loaded our gear into the ski box mounted on the side of the skid as the turbine engine fired up. The blowers pushed hot air into the gears as the rotors started to spin. Ever so slowly the rotors gained speed as the turbine engine hits fire speed and the roar of the jet engine was drowned out by the spinning blades just above our heads. As we pensively climbed into the chopper the sound, vibration, and thunder of the displaced air above us created an eerie or almost supernatural ambiance in the cockpit. The pilot poked and adjusted buttons and levers as the blades built speed. Packed like desperate refugees into the back seat we struggle to buckle seatbelts and situate ourselves as the cockpit starts to bounce from the force of the spinning blades above. The door shuts and with an unspoken nod from the pilot we despite the physics of gravity lifted from the ground.