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 backcountry 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 trailhead. 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.

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.

Ted Leighty, on his way to a 2nd in the GS.

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.

December Powder

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 reprobated 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 motorless 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 glissading 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 seen on my Universal Sports Blog)

Take a ride to paradise

Live on One-piece, Live on!

Vail Early Season Powder

After a horrid drive down to Denver Wednesday afternoon, the sun is back.  Traveling through the first real snow storm of the season, on my way to the Two Plank Premier at the Gothic Theater, the mood was right for a ski movie, but the driving was out of a National Lampoons movie.  A gauntlet of traffic, seemingly playing bumper cars with the center dividers and guardrails, full of people realizing that they did not have sow tires on and it was snowing…  Trucks jackknifed, cars flipped, stuck, smashed, spun around, etc.  The first snow storm always traps the unsuspecting motorist, but for snow enthusiasts the first snowstorm is a sign of good things to come. However, despite the early season powder day, today the sun is out and the snow has gone.  Fall is not yet ready to surrender to winter’s wrath, but soon enough the unsuspecting motorist will be trapped once more.None-the-less, the video premier at the Gothic was a great time.  The crowed was stoked and the mixed crowed of skiers and snowboarders in conjunction with Standard Films was a cool experience.  It was Wednesday night, so some took it easy as the real world awaited them in the morning, but a good time for all.  Check out some pictures of the antics below, but remember the snow is coming so don’t get caught without adequate snow tires. (A friendly word from your State Patrol.)   

There is an indisputable anticipation that builds this time of year as we wait for snow to fall, but the story that nature tells through awe-inspiring color is unfortunately not a precursor for the winter to come.  If it were so, this fall would be a sign for truly good things to come as the colors have been nothing short of brilliant.  Lets hope the snow season is half as good as the color would indicate if there were any correlation between the two, but none-the-less here are a few of the seasons best sights and maybe some of the best through a lifetime. 

This time of year can make you plan and ponder the months to come, but no matter if you are chopping wood or waxing skis there is a unique vigor that motivates us through this time of transition.  As the days get shorter, colder, and it becomes less and less appealing to get out of bed in the morning the energy of anticipation is all that carries us through until winter’s arrival.  Trying to predict the amount of snow that will fall, or when the snow itself will come does us no good, but ultimately these thoughts may be all we need to calm our earnest desires to frolic with nature yet again.  However, as planning for the season becomes increasingly difficult yet more imperative given economic constraints and other factors we are faced with, we have to remain resolute knowing that soon enough it will come and the colors of blissful unimportance will soon be gone. 

Backcountry.com’s “Pray For Snow” party was nothing short of amazing.  Last weekend in Salt Lake City, the company party went off with everyone dressed for color of the snow gods.  A group of the athletes were invited to take part in the festivities and it was well worth the journey.  Prizes for the employees were being given away right and left while the drinks and music flowed in harmonious fashion.  In an almost imperialistic manner and with incredible organization the Backcountry staff with the most logged athletic adventures throughout the year were recognized for their efforts.  Those who had ridden the most miles, ran the furthest, or spent the most nights in a tent throughout the season were gifted anything from ski trip vacations, to shopping sprees. 

While the athletes were not a part of the pool for crazy prizes, we made up for the lack of anticipation during the ceremony by punishing our livers.  I could have not asked for better company, as everyone seemed to have a great time and were all honored to be invited to such a unique event.

Thank you Backcountry.com for an incredible evening.  I am sure the word of Backcounrty.com will slowly spread, and I hope you tell all your friends, but being apart of the company is an honor and it is fun to see it grow.  

After all the restless waiting and long days and nights of preparation, the premier of Two Plank Productions “Set In Motion” went off like a car bomb in paradise. 

After an initial showing at Copper Mt. Resort, a few changes were made and the final product kicked off in Crested Butte a week later.  The “Center For the Arts” in Down Town Crested Butte was filled to the max, two shows in a row, with eager and excited riders who were forced to get their snow fix from the screen and take out their anxiously physical yearn for snow on their livers.  The after party at the LowBar was nothing short of epic.  People danced and drank the night away while DJ Ben Somrak spun the funky beats. 

The film is nothing short of two-thumbs-up given the constraints of the industry, but with an amazing Crested Butte crowed the experience was everything I could have dreamed of or hoped for. 

Thank you to the people who came out to show your support for the creators as well as get their stoke on before the ski season starts.

Perfect timing for the first showing, as the mountains were coated with fresh snow. 

The winning ticket! 

Nick and Kelly, Thanks for making the journey… 

Signing posters… 

I ran out of posters… 

Corey Tibljas, Myself, and Alex Albers after the Copper event.

 Crested Butte’s Venue

The Center For The Arts in Crested Butte 

This is a celebration… 

Vanna White showing off the SkullCandy prize… 

Dropping knowledge! 

One lucky fan who could not take the whole party. 

Ben, Smiles, and Corey 

Mr. Scott and Corey at breakfast with the crew…