Dropping into the gnar...

Ever drop off a pillow of snow, to a fifteen foot cascade, in which you hit about 30 kilometers? Through a tree run, no less? Where the snow was so deep and soft that you were riding, not snowboarding; gliding, not surfing. The whole time the snow is falling so fat...because the woods you are in are so dense, that they are a tropical snow forest. To me it is the ultimate expression of freedom for the mind, body, and soul of snowboarding. Remembering how that line felt in its infancy, when you were just beginning to hover a surface, leaving a small slash behind you. The genesis of speed, and looking board lengths in front to pick your exit, which is rapidy approaching not twenty metres away. Slicing and checking the mad-on-rush of fuel-pumped-adrenaline, you spy the passage out of this playground in the distance. You lean back tail heavy, back-foot a guided weight, and throw up a rooster of white behind you; up in a plume, falling over your shoulder into your eyesight., and obscurring your vision. But, the line was picked way back when, and you know where to turn, check and jump, right? Bursting between two trees, off that same pillow-top, to land with a whoosh, picking up more speed into the bowl below. Digging deep into the gnar and glancing off, around, and over the buried, small saplings in your path. Here the snow is open with a soft, fluffy base of white; but, it is so deep, it is profound.

That is a memory I had with me today, as I walked along the Bedford Bay, getting drenched in the rainstorm that constitutes spring in the East Coast. An image of riding in Whistler, of last March when it snowed 20 straight days there. And I rode 24 of 29 of them in a row, knowing it would be my last full season in a while.

While I was walking ( and since I can multi-task with the best of them), I started to think about how we can achieve balance in the world - even in our own lives, for that matter. I think it is about those who do understand, and those that do not. At any given points in our lives, we will be both...sometimes both at the same time, as one dawns over the other. Some just want it more than others and others just let it come to them. Makes sense, right? Things change in our lives, and we all must come to conclusions about them, instead of letting them lie as a sleeping dog might. It is funny how this all came from a memory about riding big mountains, beautiful, lush fields of snow...where was I again? Oh yeah, that in those times I would ride, nothing else mattered except my line, my friends, and my family. Depending on the situation, not all necessarily in that order. I am apart of that new breed, the new-age-hippy that embraces technology not sneering at it. A spirituality in which religion is nature: surrounding oceans, salty and clear; distant mountains, green and near. Look at that, I am a poet and didn't know it.

Hey, did you know that Ernesto "Che" Guevara once made a trip around Northern Argentina, by bicycle no less, when he was only 21 years of age? Huh...the things you might find out if only you took the time to read.

"The free lance writer is the one who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps."
- Robert Benchley