Attention skiers! Got the mid-season blues? It's time to get on board!
02/08/01
Post Home / Recreation Channel / Bullz-Eye Home
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Great. Another friggin' article about chalet get-aways in Switzerland, or heli-skiing Tibet with Glenn Plake. Just what we all needed on our cheese-sandwich salaries!" But take heart, 'cause I've never seen a reason to leave the good ol' U.S. of A in search of a good time, and Warren Miller wouldn't spit on the best part of my ski game.
No, my snowbound brethren, I want to tell you that I have been to the top of the mountain, and hallelujah I have seen the light! Curing the mid-season skiing blahs doesn't require a trip to Telluride. All you really need to do is change sports!
I know, I know. I was there when it happened, too. I had a front-row seat for what we all billed as the beginning of the apocalypse. I stood atop the hill with you, all dapper in our new Roffe jackets and shiny, golden Lange boots, just like the Mahre brothers wore. And I too laughed my ass off when the first snowboarders took to the lift. "What in the hell are those boots made out of?" "Could these kids possibly look any dorkier unhooking a binding and pushing through the lift queues?" And finally, "Who let these punks out of the juvenile hall?" Surely, this half-assed evolution of sledding would never last, right?
Well, I'm happy to report that snowboarding has fared slightly better than the metric system in this country, and it's not just for wannabe surf-punks anymore. If it sounds like I might be going somewhere with this... okay, I'll admit it: I've gone over to the dark side. No, I haven't pierced my nipples (yet), nor have I completely flannelized my wardrobe. I have, however, traded in the old planks for a shiny new snowboard. And it's time for you to do the same! Know why? I wasn't very sure myself, until a recent trip to the slopes had me pondering the whole mid-life thing. Looking around the lodge, I realized that all of the "old" people were clunking around in hard plastic kicks, and all of the "kids" were swaggering smoothly in soft, cushy snowboard boots. I knew right then and there that I was on the wrong side of this fence.
So my quest for eternal youth began thusly: Step one, purchase a snowboard, boots and all the related gear. (Sure, I had no clue about what I was doing... but why announce that to everyone by showing up with rented gear?) Step two, load aforementioned junk into truck and scoot out to Seven Springs in South Central (Pennsylvania, not Compton) for a crash course in snowboarding (pun intended). Joining me on this adventure were my friends Hodges and Trent, who like me were also first-timers. All of us being accomplished skiers (read: arrogant), our confidence was high -- too high. The X-Games were still 30 days away and we felt we could be ready by then.
Lesson number one in snowboarding: humility. You may have read numerous dissertations on the Zen of snowboarding, on "becoming one with the snow." Oh yeah, you're going to become one with the snow, all right. Over, and over and over. You'll become one with the snow so much that you'll begin to think that you're made out of the stuff. Hodges actually thought he had crapped in his pants after one hard fall; come to find out, it was just a snowball lodged in his drawers! But that wasn't the incident that hammered home the fact that we wouldn't be making the trek to Mount Snow for the X-Games. No, it all became quite clear during our first long, cold ride up the chair lift. The ride was uneventful, until we got about ten feet from the unloading ramp and Trent turned to us and asked, "How the f%$k do we get off this lift on these things?" And none of us had a good answer for him. And so I acquired the first of many, many bruises and abrasions.
But here's the interesting thing about snowboarding: the learning curve is incredibly steep. After just a few runs, I found myself starting to "get it." Putting a few turns together. Weaving between the chubby, snowplowing ski school students without killing anyone. And once things start to click, the feeling is incomparable. Compared to skis, the snowboard is a smoother, more fluid ride. Plankers, you are truly missing a great experience. It's time to join the revolution, brothers. The board is here to stay!
Now, I know that weaning yourself off the skis and poles is going to be a difficult and painful process. I recommend using the same tactic you used to get off the Mad Dog a few years ago: cold turkey. Here are a few bits of wisdom I have gleaned from my experience, and I hope they'll help you out:
1. Know a Little Bit About the Equipment
You don't necessarily have to speak the language, dude. But you need to know a few basic terms in order to avoid looking like a complete tool. First, understand that snowboard bindings do not "release" like the ones on your skis. Once you're strapped in, that sucker is part of you, 'til death do you part. Therefore, it's probably a good idea to know which foot you want on the downhill side of the board. Here's the best way to find out, if you don't already know: Take your shoes off, leave your socks on and run across your kitchen floor. Do your best "Risky Business" slide. Which foot was in front? This is most likely your downhill foot. If this doesn't work for you, or if you have a carpeted kitchen (what?), try standing up straight and have a friend gently shove you in the back. Which foot did you step forward with to brace yourself? Again, this is most likely your downhill foot. If you have determined that your left foot is the big winner, you are considered "regular," even without a high-fiber diet. If you tend to favor your right foot, you are officially "goofy." You've always known this -- it's just been confirmed. Make a note of this because your board must be set up accordingly.
2. Go Get the Gear
Everyone you know is going to tell you to go out and rent a snowboard for your first time out. What if you don't like it? You certainly don't want to have a lot of cash tied up in equipment, do you? Well, I'm saying screw that. Go out and buy your gear. Most of the stuff you rent is going to be second-rate junk anyway. And if you're ever in doubt about the condition of rental equipment, well, what kind of condition was that Ford Taurus in when you returned it to Hertz? Yeah, that's what I thought.
If you're worried about maxxing out the plastic and eating mac 'n' cheese for the next six months, don't be too concerned. If you're a skier, you already have more cash tied up in your boots than you'll toss down on an entire snowboard rig, including the cool sunglasses. The funny thing about snowboards is that they're basically all the same (and I can name 10 manufacturers that would flip if they read that, but it's pretty damn true). Unless you're planning to hop into the halfpipe and impress the snow chippies (and for your sake, I hope you're not), there's no reason to drop more than about $200-$250 on your board.
As with everything else in life, size is the determining factor in selecting your board. This is pretty simple: Stand the board on its end. It should come up to somewhere between your chin and your nose. This should work out to somewhere between 150cm and 165cm (alright, we haven't completely killed off the metric system, but I'm working on that). It's at this point that your salesman will start talking to you about flex, sidecut, etc. Don't listen to him; if he knew what the hell he was talking about, he'd be doing something more constructive than selling sporting goods. (If that comment happens to piss you off, read my bio. It's just self-deprecating humor!) And remember, winter is almost over. Don't waste your time shopping!
Boots are your next important piece of gear, and here's where it gets a little more difficult. You can spend anywhere between $50 and $400 on boots. Now, I shouldn't have to tell you this, but $50 boots suck. But so do $400 boots, 'cause who has 400 bucks to blow on boots? Spend about $100 on boots and make sure they're comfortable. Remember, you won't just be wearing these to ride, but also to drink afterward. They must be comfortable!
Bindings are simple. There are lots of fancy new models out there, but they haven't really improved on the strap-in plastic ones yet, so stick with the basics. If you know how to use a screwdriver, you should be able to mount them yourself.
Apparel is another big piece of the pie. Comfort is key, and remember that you're going to spend a lot of time on your ass in the snow. No cotton! Trust me on this one. It absorbs water like a sponge, and holds it next to your body. Water + cold air = misery. Top it all off with a quality ski jacket, and add a good pair of snowboard pants. Buy the black ones, trust me. Sliding down Cottontail Trail on your face is no place to make an attention-grabbing fashion statement, ok?
The last thing you'll need is a helmet. I'm not the helmet police, and I certainly don't like to get self-righteous about the issue. But you will be spending a considerable amount of time making Snoopy Sno-Cones with your face, and a good helmet could keep you from spending the rest of your life sitting in a chair drooling, if you don't already. And that's about all I've got to say about that.
3. Ride, Ride, Ride
How cool is it that the hardest part of this whole thing is the most fun? Go out and get a fresh haircut, then hit the slopes. Most of your gear is self-explanatory, just don't tuck your pants into your boots. I've seen this done and it's not pretty. It sets off every geek alarm at the resort.
Getting on the lift is going to be just plain awkward, and there's no way around it. To cover flat ground, you're going to have to unhook your back foot from the binding and push the board like a skateboard. Yeah, you'll look silly, but so does everyone else. And you still look better than all the old guys on skis!
The riding part of this whole equation consists of a lot of trial and error. You're going to have to re-learn the whole concept of sliding down a snowy hill. Edges work the same, but they're not on the sides of your feet anymore. Balance is the same, but your falls will be on your face or on your ass, not side-to-side. Just roll with it, and don't get frustrated. You're not racing anyone down the hill, and when you get pissed off, you tense up. When you tense up, wrists break and shoulders dislocate. And that could ruin your whole weekend!
Anyway, back to our Seven Springs adventure. After about six hours of absolute fun, I had to stop and take inventory. A bruised tailbone, a skinned knee, one hell of a headache and a broken binding. And I've never had a better time on the snow. The skis have been permanently retired! Bruised, bloodied, and exhausted, I had just enough energy for a quick clothing change and a short shuttle ride down to the Foggy Goggle Bar. Always remember to reward your efforts! But that's a story for another day. Until then, keep riding and be one with the snow, dudes!