The Superpipe

I was fortunate enough to witness the 2010 Snowboarding Grand Prix at Park City Mountain Resort on Saturday, January 22. The Park City event was the last before three male and three female snowboarders proceeded to Vancouver to represent the United States in the 2010 Winter Olympics. The snowboarders were competing specifically in the Superpipe competition. The Superpipe is a 400-550 foot-long (depending on venue) half-pipe which slopes downhill, made for snowboarders to ride down, switching from side to side of the pipe, trying to do tricks as they crest the edge of the pipe, otherwise known as a “hit.”
I arrived early enough to procure a spot next to the Superpipe, right where the snowboarders would generally reach their second hit. With each hit the competitors in the Superpipe contest attempt to throw out the craziest moves imaginable: corkscrews, flips, 1080s or just big air while grabbing their boards. The snowboarders can reach heights of 10 to 15 feet easy. The judges at the bottom of the pipe assess how loco each snowboarder is and collectively give him or her a score from 0 to 50. A score above 35 is good, but a score above 45 means the snowboarder should probably be taken to the psych ward.
My younger brother practices the art of photography and he is, I must admit, quite talented at capturing the excitement and beauty of whatever it is he finds in his viewfinder. He stood next to me as we spectated as good spectators do; he was snapping action photos and I was gathering material for this week’s column. After each snowboarder would pass us, I would watch until he or she reached the bottom of the pipe, and then quickly turn my attention to my brother’s camera. The camera could take multiple action photos within seconds, and watching him review the pictures was like watching the action in slow motion. The weather was playing along beautifully too, allowing snow to grace the scene. Each and every photograph showed a snowboarder flying through the beautiful snow in various poses. Some of the other spectators around us made comments like, “Oooh. You could sell that picture to (insert snowboard company name here).”
It was amazing to watch as the boarders showed their physical control as they gripped their boards and flipped on their way down the pipe. It reminded me of my first time snowboarding, except for I had no control as I flipped down the mountain. I must say that I was able to pick snowboarding up easier than skiing, but I’m a skier at heart and will probably always prefer skiing. One big reason I will stick with skiing is that skis come loose (as long as you’re not using leather straps instead of ski brakes) when you wreck. A snowboard stays attached to both your feet and you generally end up hitting your knees or rump pretty hard when you wreck. Snowboarding is definitely not for those who want to continue using their knees and backside later in life.
There were some big snowboarding names at the competition, like Shaun White and Danny Cass. Shaun White ended up receiving a score of 49.5 and a ticket to Vancouver as well as Scotty Lago and Sandy, Utah resident Louie Vito. The women’s snowboarding team will be made up of Kelley Clark, Hannah Teter and Gretchen Blier. These are just a few of the athletes that will be competing in the upcoming Olympics, and I look forward to watching every competitor from around the world excel in reaching for new athletic achievements. The Olympics will run February 12-28th. Go world.

Snowball With Skis

My father still owns a pair of mustard yellow skis from back when skiing was invented. The skis have no brakes; just thin, leather straps that wrap around each ski boot. The idea was, when a ski came off, it would stay with you. Brilliant. Unfortunately, the strap was not very long and so the skis would stay very close to you until you stopped tumbling.
When I was 18 I couldn’t afford a new pair of skis, and my older brother’s ski boots were too small, so I used my dad’s ancient skis. Once. Never again. Allow me to tell you the tale of when I almost died while skiing. I had borrowed my father’s skis to go skiing with some friends at Snowbird. I hadn’t been skiing in a couple years, but it’s like riding a bicycle, right?
My friends were all technologically advanced with their ski brakes and bindings and they were ready within minutes upon arrival at Snowbird. I was stuck wrapping leather straps around my boots for 20 minutes before I was ready. The first run down the mountain was great and I felt confident that I could ski well despite my lack of modernity. As everyone probably knows, teenage confidence doesn’t always equate to control and logical thinking in the long run.
The second run was where my confidence became my downfall. The blue trail I was on was smooth and easy-going, and I decided to test how well the old relics would respond under duress. I went really fast down a steep part of the trail. Like most of my teenage years, I don’t remember much of what happened next, but there is a distinct memory of sharp ski slaps to my face as I somersaulted down the mountainside.
I woke to sounds of laughter and my friends’ gleeful voices: “…looked like one of those cartoons, man! Ha ha ha!” “…must have hurt! Your face was priceless, though!” I slowly lifted my frozen face from the snow and attempted to grin, as if I had planned the whole thing for my friends’ amusement. Even though I almost lost my life to a couple old skis, there they were, right by me through the whole thing. It would have really sucked if after getting smacked in the face by them they broke free and shot down the mountain on their own.
Chances are most people have never even skied with a pair of leather strap skis. If you are one of the few who refuses to grow with technology and you do own a pair, I salute you. I will stick with the skis with brakes, though.
If you are not a hardcore skier but enjoy the sport from time to time, leather straps are the least of your worries. A ski instructor at Deer Valley Resort, Pierre Bourdages, gave me a few tips to pass on. He sees many people during the ski season who ski once or twice a year. When Pierre instructs such a skier, he insists on starting on green trails, and slowly works the skier up to skiing blue and black diamond trails with confidence, but not 18-year-old confidence.
Pierre says, “Skiers should focus on three things: staying safe, having fun, and learning. Equipment has changed a lot (someone should tell my father), but technique hasn’t changed as much.” He also encourages anyone who has been out of touch with a mountain for a prolonged period of time to take a lesson or two. “Lessons will boost your confidence. Most people are scared at the top of the trail. Don’t start on blue trails,” Pierre adds. He claims that most mistakes made by skiers are tactical, not technical. Simply choosing the trail that matches your skill level will make a huge difference in your enjoyment of skiing. It may also save you from becoming a giant snowball with skis sticking out.

Love is in the Air...

If you live near Heber City and you have asthma or any other breathing complications, consider yourself lucky. Well, luckier than most Utahns. Salt Lake City is currently in the running for the worst air quality in the nation, and it’s winning by a long shot. I was in Salt Lake on Monday and could barely see a mile into the distance at the University of Utah. Northern Utah in general is a breeding ground for bad air. With all of the valleys and high mountains, harmful gases simply sit and wait for an unsuspecting human to inhale them.
Whether you’re a runner or a cyclist or a skier or just someone who breathes air, bad air quality can really take a toll. Despite its altitude, Heber City is also subject to undesirable air quality. It’s not nearly as threatening to a person’s health as Salt Lake City’s air, yet it can still affect you. You may notice that you have a slight cough or your eyes are burning, like they’re dry. Most of the time, bad air quality effects go away as soon as the air improves. Every now and again, though, the bad air may contribute to a person’s bronchitis or earache, making the illness worse.
Not all the effects of bad air are negative, though. For example, Snowbird offers a $20 discount on adult passes on “Red Air” days. The resort is attempting to promote the “less-filthy” air up Little Cottonwood Canyon. And what could be more positive than getting away from a big city like Salt Lake? Families may also spend more time indoors, giving siblings the long-awaited-for time together. (Parents can stop laughing now. Your children really do love each other. They just beat each other up because they are frustrated that they don’t know how to express their love effectively.)
Air quality can affect the quality of your exercise if you run or cycle regularly, but not everyone can blame the air for his or her poor athletic performance. My wife and I went on a little walk around Park City last week. After making it up to the top of Main Street, I was quick to tell my wife the reason I was out of breath. “Honey,” I said, “the air is terrible today, I can hardly breathe.” She looked at me, sized me up and said, “That’s funny. I feel fine. I think your lungs took on the work your legs were trying not to do.” Next time we’ll drive to the top of Main Street, walk down and take the trolley back up.
Here is some advice for dealing with the “Red Air” scare: Just stay indoors. Become a hermit during the winter. Learn a lesson from bears and other mammals: Hibernate and you don’t have to worry about sucking in dangerous chemicals. If you don’t want to vegetate for the whole winter, you could consider digging tunnels between your house and all the other important buildings you may need to access, such as a grocery store or bar. But seriously, if you must go outside, consider carpooling to the ski resort or waiting to go to the store until you have other errands to run.
You could hope that it snows more, because that would help clear up some of the pollutants in the air, but the weather forecast doesn’t seem to want to play along anytime soon. You could also hope that a strong wind kicks up and blows all the bad air in Heber down to Salt Lake, but Salt Lake’s so saturated, it would just come right back like a stray dog that you fed one time. Lesson learned.

Extreme Poetry Writing

Before I take you on an outdoor adventure, I have a confession: I read and write poetry. It’s a sort of hobby. One month ago, I was searching on the internet for modern poetry, and I came across a website promoting “extreme poetry writing.” The point of extreme poetry writing is to find some hard-to-get-to part of the world so that you can write your innermost impressions about it while being there. My schedule was wide open for the coming Saturday, so I decided on that day to experience the joy of composing a few lines of poetry over a broad landscape I had just conquered.
As a writer and former Boy Scout, I know how important research and preparedness are. I know that December is not a month where most people are out crawling around on a mountainside, and trails are covered in deep snow, so I checked on avalanche conditions for the Mount Timpanogos area. Then I got out my map and planned my route.
Saturday finally came and I was excited. I woke up, got ready for the day, threw the gear I would need in my Jeep, kissed my wife good-bye, gave her detailed information about where I would be, and headed for Mount Timpanogos. I geared up for my hike at a picnic area. I didn’t need my show shoes right away, so I secured them on the outside of my pack, and then made sure I had the most important items: pen and paper.
The snow was slushy and I had to be careful not to slide right off the small deer trail I was following. As I hiked higher, the snow became firmer and I was able to make good use of the snow shoes. Luckily, deer were the only animals I saw. There’s nothing like a mountain lion or bear to spice up an extreme poetry writing adventure.
About two and a half hours into the hike I got to a point where my map was no help and all my planning was good for nothing. I wasn’t lost but I had overlooked an area of my map. All that the map showed was two contour lines close together, but I was staring at a thirty-foot cliff face adorned with an iced-over waterfall. No other routes were visible.
Not wanting to give up completely, I unpacked my pen and paper and prepared to extract the beauty of the frozen nature around me. Fifteen minutes passed before I found the perfect opening line. As the pen touched the paper, nothing came out. I shook the pen, sucked on it, yelled at it, but the ink would not flow. It, too, was frozen.
Somewhere on Mount Timpanogos, there is an empty pad of paper and a cheap pen lying in the snow near a waterfall. I can’t say that I was completely disappointed in my extreme poetry writing adventure, but I can say that a person can never be too prepared or do enough research for outdoor activities, especially when it’s winter.