I learned to snowboard when I was in the 7th grade. I continued to snowboard a few times a year until college. I loved it! My dad found an older K2 downhill (no switch riding on this one) snowboard that needed some repair and bindings that got me by a couple years. It was a long board, far too long for my stature and ability, so I eventually bought a snowboard from a classmate in high school. It was also a K2 board, but this one glowed in the dark! It was more my size and had me dreaming of hitting the terrain park. Unfortunately, it stood out in the long line of boards at the ski hill. Some decided they should have it, and with it my dreams of mastering the snowboard.
Fast forward to college, a college that was known for its access to powdery ski hills, and some money burning holes in my pockets, I finally bought myself a new board. It was a Morrow Truth, and I couldn’t wait to try it out. I made friends with some of my dorm-mates and we would go out whenever it snowed and try to find a place to build a jump. I quickly realized I was outclassed by my new friends and would usually just hold the camera and make an end of day attempt at the jump only to biff and wipe out. It was March of my freshman year and I was finally getting my first run at a proper ski hill. Why did I wait until nearly the end of the season to actually get up to the mountain? Well, that hole in my pocket, and a lack of financial discipline, led to money being tight (but that green iPod Mini was so cool…).
So I was finally at Big Sky, MT. I had heard so much about this place, and oh boy did I have a blast! But all good things must come to an end. I drove up with friends, but one of their parents came up for the day, so they all decided to stay for dinner (for which I had no money), so I left for the hour drive home. I imagine I was bumping my tunes in my 1995 Subaru Impreza, a prized possession if I ever had one, as the toll of the day started to surface. I was wiped! And rather than stop in a pullout, I soldiered on… into a guardrail. I fell asleep at the wheel, veered across the oncoming lane and was held back from the icy waters of the river below. How I managed to not get hit by oncoming traffic, is something I attribute to a diving God watching over me.
I awoke as I impacted the rail and steered my now broken car back to the other side, the proper side, to come to rest in a pullout. A couple of the cars behind me stopped and helped me out of my car, the whole driver side was mangled. Upon first glance, you could tell that there was no way the car would be able to drive out, it was a surprise that it even made its way to the pullout. Someone went on ahead and called both a tow truck and 911 as there was no service in the canyon. A canyon I would come to find out claimed lives every winter as tired travelers did just what I did, but weren’t so fortunate.
Eventually both the emergency crews and tow truck arrived. I was in shock, and was about to be further disturbed. The dawning realization that I had just created an accident, an accident that was going to be expensive was just setting in as the EMTs made sure I didn’t have a concussion (I didn’t). A police officer asked me to sit and took my statement and then cited me for reckless driving. RECKLESS DRIVING!!! I was a good driver, better than most, so I thought. But a good driver knows their limit and stops, something I’m aware of now.
On the way out of the canyon, as I sat quietly in the passenger seat of the tow truck, I was broken. Mom and Dad weren’t home, and their cell was off (remember those days, anyone). My brother was the one who answered my call and helped me figure out what to do next. I was broken, and felt like my world ended. I would have nightmares for the next several weeks. I was fine, physically, but the mental toll taken made where the last thing I wanted to do was snowboard. Everything ended up okay. Of course the parents were upset, but glad they still had their son. The car was fixed, though it wore scars and had a vampiric thirst for power steering fluid. I paid my fines and once the school year had ended, made it home with fumes in the gas tank and not a penny to my name.
But the snowboard sat. I held onto it for several years, only to ride it a couple times. It reminded me of a good day with a terrible end, one that I internalized as a consequence to snowboarding. I gave it away to an auction supporting a children’s home in the Philippines several years later. So when the opportunity came to get back on the ski hill last year came up, I wasn’t so interested in snowboarding, I instead chose to ski.