Dude, I still can’t figure out what took me so long.
Maybe it was the nasty face-plants I remember taking or that big ring of snow that orbited me like a moon the last time I decided to shred the gnar* and wore nothing but a heavy cotton sweater on my second trip ever up the canyon. But that was 10 years ago.
I’d gotten my board legs under me in San Diego. Soon after, I slept surfing. I ate surfing. Dreamed about the tacos that I loved to eat after surfing. It was one of the hardest things about moving back to Utah.
Now I have a surrogate mother to watch over my board sickness. Speaking of sickness…I’ve even been infected with a wiggity-wicked case of the snowboarditis lingo, bra!
It was definitely nice to get my mountain bearings on a fresh blanket of sick pow*. I discovered muscles I never knew I had. I found out what it was like to stretch a groin and why women should be jealous they can’t grow mountain man bushy beards to keep the ice off their faces. Maybe that’s why they buy such tweaky-colored scarves. Beard envy.
No, but in all seriousness, it was my first day on the slopes since I was in high school so yeah, I didn’t exactly slay the pow*. Technically I was a botwoker*, but I was up there to chillax*. It was everything I was missing out on from my days in SoCal and more.
The only thing I remember from my first time running the mountain years back was keeping my unstrapped foot underneath the board to counterbalance the weight on the ascent. That made the trip up Crest Express comfortable. Ah, I was so stoked as the mountain breathed its cold breath all over my face and the snowflakes caught on my eyelashes. Only two days before, this was the last thing on my mind. But I found a killer deal on gear from a spot that was liquidating is inventory. Jacket: $60. Pants: $70. Gloves with the little squeegy on it: $20. Holla!
My sister who works up at Brighton got me set up with a free board, boots and bindings, and the rest, as they say, was ancient history.
My mediocre days spent on La Jolla Shores, Pacific Beach and Cardiff didn’t serve me well at first, however. I biffed* off the lift. Then I ate my lunch* again just trying to get to a bench to lock my loosie* in a binding. After 20 minutes of swearing, watching little sis laugh and tell me, “It’s OK” to my profuse apologies, my goofy-foot* stance and I took the plunge. I got a good 100 yards down the run before taking my first spill*. I experienced the joys of learning how to get my sorry ass back up. Like the Chinese proverb, face-plant seven times, stand up eight.
Then I learned what it was to feather*, which technically made me a drifter*, sue me. After feathering down Tantamount and Lower Majestic for what seemed like two hours, my shins got the workout of a lifetime. But I couldn’t wait to go on another run. The workday was slowly creeping up on me so a quick trip up Majestic was all we could afford. Along the way some Betty* friend of mine said, “This is your first run this year, no wonder you suck.” My sister had my back and proceeded to ask her how many times she’d been. She said about three times this season, but had been going up there for three seasons now. I proceeded to bomb* her ass all the way down the bunny slope. I mean it wasn’t like boning out* any tricks Broadway* or anything, but that Betty put a cork in it.
Now all I’ve been able to do for the past 24 hours is think about shredding again. It totally made me forget about my sore bip*, my rockin’ jaw, and my jammed shoulder. I just hope I’ll be able to pick up all the lingo and fully immerse myself in this new way of life, you know, but one thing is for sure, I’m chomping at the bit to get up there and shred that sticky gnar again. I can’t wait to pull off a Beef Wellington*, hopefully so I can land me an Arctic Cougar* and become a ski bum until this economy gets better.
Glossary:
shred the gnar: snowboarding or skiing
pow: powder
slay the pow: shred the gnar at full force
botwoker: beginner who falls a lot
chillax: the combination of chilling and relaxing
biff: crash
eat one’s lunch: crash
loosie: unbound foot
feather: the way a beginner carves down the mountain on one edge
Betty: a girl poser
goofy-foot: board riding with the right foot as lead
spill: crash
drifter: a beginner who drifts back and forth across a run
bip: the place between the butt and the hip
bomb: to cruise down a run fast
boning out: going all out
Broadway: performing a trick really well
Beef Wellington: A hella big trick
Arctic Cougar: A single 40-year-old woman on the mountain looking for younger meat
Sean SullivanWith newly installed high-speed lifts serving the resort, skiers and snowboarders can quickly take advantage of Brighton?s varied terrain. Yet, nostalgic remnants of the resort?s past remain.