Yeah, been quiet. Busy March. Something about March, and just around the kids’ break: it usually is.
I’m in Tremblant, mostly coaching and working. Working because, well, March, and such is the rhythm of the business, I guess…
Coaching: yeah, well, my daughter asked if I could teach her to snowboard.
She’s doing really well. Managed some four blue runs down the mountain today, the last group from peak to base, no falls. Which is saying something for someone who’s been on the board some four days total, and it’s one of those hard-pack days, bits of ice. Not easy when you’ve only two edges, and can only ever use one (and the correct one, at any given time, if you wish to continue to live), and you’re new at this. So: I’m impressed..
Anyway. And then this evening rolled around and in the adjacent place there were partying college-age types. Not really obnoxious, but there was dance music, playing quiet but just loud enough—at that low, subsonic thumpa thumpa—that Yours Insomniac Truly really couldn’t practically sleep, and never mind everyone else seemed to be managing. Guess I can’t so much blame them, it being Saint Drinking Weekend and all, but y’know: if you can’t sleep, you can’t…
And hey. It had been a long week, and me with little me time over its course. So I figured, hell, let’s give up on the lying here trying not to notice the bass for a bit, go out, just have a brew at my favourite place, see if when I come back in an hour or two if it’s still thumpa thumpa next door. So I put a few logs on the fire, do the dishes quietly enough to avoid waking those sleeping, slip out into the minus fifteen…
Yes, minus fifteen. Weird March break it’s been, up and down, but at least less downright bizarre than last year’s plus twenty, and now, at least, it’s back down to something approaching seasonal…
So I get through that kinda welcomely, familiarly frigid air, get to the place, sit at the bar, have an ale, read some Ingersoll for a bit…
Good for the sanity, Ingersoll, I find, especially with papal conclaves all over the news and the usual froth of silliness from the usual suspects making headlines with sporadic outbursts of what the hell is that anyway. Was Chavez the twelfth imam? Or did they merely have one another’s business cards? It isn’t quite clear (or no more so than is most theology) but still, we are… amused. I think the word is amused, here. Other words are less fit to print. Not, I suppose, that this ever really stopped me.
Good for the sanity indeed…
Tell it, brother. That’s from Ghosts, for the record. Happened to be on my phone, at the time…
Bar was a weird scene, tho’. Turns out there’s this Ultimate Fighting thing on this eve, and the heavier than usual Y-chromosome dominance in the place is probably due this event. It’s up on all the flatscreens: two guys pounding the hell out of each other. Or more the one, pounding the hell out of the other… As I left, the local favourite (thing was in Montréal, apparently, and it was a US and Canadian fighter behind the chain link mesh that apparently marks the ring in these things) was dominating… And in the place, this is no sideshow: they turn up the volume, and everyone’s watching, intently.
And it’s a bit… Bizarre, watching this. Not so much the bout as the audience…
They’re into it. Intensely. With focus. With passion. At one point the local boy’s got the hated enemy on the mat, gets a knee into the poor bastard’s abdomen and all this crowd natty in high-end alpine outerwear are nothing short of wild with a delight that seems heavily underscored with an almost celebratory viciousness. There’s this tint of something pheromonal in the air. And hell, I can feel my own nostrils flaring… Even getting slightly edgy about the flavour of all this… Like geez, sure, this is a pretty well-heeled crowd, and sure, I guess I get this is all sublimation and living vicariously, in this company… Pretty damned unlikely anyone here is gonna throw a punch of their own.
But still, man, that bloodlust, you can practically taste it. It’s like it smells like a brawl in here.
It’s not so much a revelation or nothing. I mean, I guess it’s something I always knew about us slightly more hairless-than-other-chimps: we’re never that far from the edge of claws and teeth and blows, and these are ubiquitous human passions. Watch any crowd at a hockey game, you see the same undisguised hunger for bruising and pain…
Still. A mite alarming, when it’s a room full of that stuff.
I went home. Gonna have to get to sleep, now. Aerials to attempt in the morning…
I’m guessing from the noises the neighbours were making when I returned, however, the local boy prevailed.
I’m in Tremblant, mostly coaching and working. Working because, well, March, and such is the rhythm of the business, I guess…
Coaching: yeah, well, my daughter asked if I could teach her to snowboard.
She’s doing really well. Managed some four blue runs down the mountain today, the last group from peak to base, no falls. Which is saying something for someone who’s been on the board some four days total, and it’s one of those hard-pack days, bits of ice. Not easy when you’ve only two edges, and can only ever use one (and the correct one, at any given time, if you wish to continue to live), and you’re new at this. So: I’m impressed..
Anyway. And then this evening rolled around and in the adjacent place there were partying college-age types. Not really obnoxious, but there was dance music, playing quiet but just loud enough—at that low, subsonic thumpa thumpa—that Yours Insomniac Truly really couldn’t practically sleep, and never mind everyone else seemed to be managing. Guess I can’t so much blame them, it being Saint Drinking Weekend and all, but y’know: if you can’t sleep, you can’t…
And hey. It had been a long week, and me with little me time over its course. So I figured, hell, let’s give up on the lying here trying not to notice the bass for a bit, go out, just have a brew at my favourite place, see if when I come back in an hour or two if it’s still thumpa thumpa next door. So I put a few logs on the fire, do the dishes quietly enough to avoid waking those sleeping, slip out into the minus fifteen…
Yes, minus fifteen. Weird March break it’s been, up and down, but at least less downright bizarre than last year’s plus twenty, and now, at least, it’s back down to something approaching seasonal…
So I get through that kinda welcomely, familiarly frigid air, get to the place, sit at the bar, have an ale, read some Ingersoll for a bit…
Good for the sanity, Ingersoll, I find, especially with papal conclaves all over the news and the usual froth of silliness from the usual suspects making headlines with sporadic outbursts of what the hell is that anyway. Was Chavez the twelfth imam? Or did they merely have one another’s business cards? It isn’t quite clear (or no more so than is most theology) but still, we are… amused. I think the word is amused, here. Other words are less fit to print. Not, I suppose, that this ever really stopped me.
Good for the sanity indeed…
They found that the ghosts knew nothing of benefit to man; that they were utterly ignorant of geology—of astronomy—of geography;—that they knew nothing of history;—that they were poor doctors and worse surgeons;—that they knew nothing of law and less of justice; that they were without brains, and utterly destitute of hearts; that they knew nothing of the rights of men; that they were despisers of women, the haters of progress, the enemies of science, and the destroyers of liberty.
Tell it, brother. That’s from Ghosts, for the record. Happened to be on my phone, at the time…
Bar was a weird scene, tho’. Turns out there’s this Ultimate Fighting thing on this eve, and the heavier than usual Y-chromosome dominance in the place is probably due this event. It’s up on all the flatscreens: two guys pounding the hell out of each other. Or more the one, pounding the hell out of the other… As I left, the local favourite (thing was in Montréal, apparently, and it was a US and Canadian fighter behind the chain link mesh that apparently marks the ring in these things) was dominating… And in the place, this is no sideshow: they turn up the volume, and everyone’s watching, intently.
And it’s a bit… Bizarre, watching this. Not so much the bout as the audience…
They’re into it. Intensely. With focus. With passion. At one point the local boy’s got the hated enemy on the mat, gets a knee into the poor bastard’s abdomen and all this crowd natty in high-end alpine outerwear are nothing short of wild with a delight that seems heavily underscored with an almost celebratory viciousness. There’s this tint of something pheromonal in the air. And hell, I can feel my own nostrils flaring… Even getting slightly edgy about the flavour of all this… Like geez, sure, this is a pretty well-heeled crowd, and sure, I guess I get this is all sublimation and living vicariously, in this company… Pretty damned unlikely anyone here is gonna throw a punch of their own.
But still, man, that bloodlust, you can practically taste it. It’s like it smells like a brawl in here.
It’s not so much a revelation or nothing. I mean, I guess it’s something I always knew about us slightly more hairless-than-other-chimps: we’re never that far from the edge of claws and teeth and blows, and these are ubiquitous human passions. Watch any crowd at a hockey game, you see the same undisguised hunger for bruising and pain…
Still. A mite alarming, when it’s a room full of that stuff.
I went home. Gonna have to get to sleep, now. Aerials to attempt in the morning…
I’m guessing from the noises the neighbours were making when I returned, however, the local boy prevailed.
21/02: Until it gets boring
22 more backside ones (2:01, H.264, 36 MB), done at lunch, yesterday. Specifically: 12 to switch, 10 from. I’m letting the camera run, now, just to get a look at how I’m popping, especially, so have this footage anyway. Been hunting around for some coaching but haven’t found it, yet, so being able to see what it looks like is invaluable, in the meantime (and I guess would be anyway).
Yeah, kinda repetitive. But practising things is like that. You know… You ‘re sure you can really do it when it actually starts getting boring.
Getting pretty reliable, now, anyway. Had one fall in the whole session (not shown). And, yep, I can pull off six or seven of these in a row now with neither a fall nor a rest.
And yeah, I know, this whole thing must be looking a bit like an obsession now…
So it’s an obsession. Still. I’m gonna nail these things.
Yeah, kinda repetitive. But practising things is like that. You know… You ‘re sure you can really do it when it actually starts getting boring.
Getting pretty reliable, now, anyway. Had one fall in the whole session (not shown). And, yep, I can pull off six or seven of these in a row now with neither a fall nor a rest.
And yeah, I know, this whole thing must be looking a bit like an obsession now…
So it’s an obsession. Still. I’m gonna nail these things.
29/01: More 180s
Spent just under an hour on the kicker at lunch again, trying to get that problematic backside from switch working. And it is now looking better (9.8MB, 60 secs, H.264 encoded*)…
As to how I got it that way, it was the usual deal. Keep trying, make all possible errors, until, eventually, there are none left to make…
… and speaking of, here are the occasionally embarrassing outtakes (24 MB, 2m10s, H.264 again).
(*/So it may or may not play nicely with your browser/video player… But it’s really a pretty good codec for stuff like this.)
As to how I got it that way, it was the usual deal. Keep trying, make all possible errors, until, eventually, there are none left to make…
… and speaking of, here are the occasionally embarrassing outtakes (24 MB, 2m10s, H.264 again).
(*/So it may or may not play nicely with your browser/video player… But it’s really a pretty good codec for stuff like this.)
28/01: Four 180s
Yes, really. I mean, hey, the neighbours maintain a skating rink in their yard through the winter. I figure this is only fair…
(Sure, it’s gonna be a bit much if anyone, say, insists upon building a speed skating oval. But until then.)
Anyway. Today I finally had the time at lunch on a day when enough snow was falling to make actually using the thing safe enough (there’s not much of a runout… things get too packed, I’m likely to wind up in the neighbours’ rink, thing is, so some fresh snow is a good thing…)
So I got out there (as opposed to, say, eating), and it turns out it’s a real sweetheart of a setup. Don’t get much speed, but it’s real easy to turn 180s over this thing, ‘long as you swing the board quicklike in the 1’ or so of air very briefly achieved.
So I set up a camera. Results are attached. (MPEG-4, 3MB, 26s).
No, we’re not talking big air, here. And yes, that backside from switch is still pretty rough. It is the least practiced of the lot.
Still, they’re generally coming along, if I do say so myself.
(Next backyard project: a bigger hill. And mebbe a lift.)
28/01: The lesson being
So I spent much of the weekend trying to get a bunch of backside spins working just from flat snow, no kickers—pop off edges, Ollie up, or just hop straight up and turn…
It was partly just fatigue that I stayed off the kickers—long, hard week at work. And also it was a very cold day, with very hard landings. And partly that I’ve generally been advised learning to nail those hop and spin things is good for your form. If you can spin ‘em with the tiny bit of air you get that way, that’s a good thing, and also, you get the form so you’re comfortable jumping from the kicker, which makes tripping over the lip a lot less likely…
Got many variations working pretty… okay. I’m going to go with okay. Still have trouble rotating solidly into the fall line, when pointed that way, but cutting into the hill a bit, I’m all right. My backside to-switch from toe edge, I can almost call reliable, now… musta landed a few dozen of those. I’m still a little awkward bringing all of ‘em down, tho’. There’s this thing I keep doing where the top of the body is a little slow coming around. Oh, I land ‘em; they just look and feel less than entirely smooth. But I have a longish skeleton, for this stuff, so I expect this is doing to be a bit of a thing for me. Lot of angular momentum to manage, and I need to manage it right. But, generally, anyway, I stick those now, which is progress…
Anyway, I’ve still got this mild complex about these things, all the same. Feel a little silly, sometimes, y’know? It’s always nice when I meet some other guy on the lift obviously with a 3 or a 4 in the tens column of his age with a terrain park pass, and I get to think for that moment: if this is a bit nuts, well, at least I’m not the only one…
And these spins, this weekend, especially, I’m doing on blues and greens—beginner runs and flats, just wait ‘til there’s tonnes of space around me, so I’m not panicking actual beginners by suddenly going airborne and spinning. And that’s a bit… Well, y’know, there’s often older folk on those, just out, just learning, and I wonder whatinhell they might be thinking. Like, man, what are you even doing? Isn’t that stuff for kids?
So anyway, I do it all the same, thinking: under goggles and helmet, who can tell for sure anyway? And whether or not they do, my business. And seriously, I’ve done everything else, anyway… And if I spin it, I land it (or not), it’s all good. I try not to let it bug me.
And I get through the whole thing—two days of that, the kids in their lessons—with no injuries at all to speak of. Legs sore just from all the effort, actually, which is pretty much ideal: muscles learning and building. So many turns, my legs are saying, c’mon, you’ve got to be kidding us… Another, now?
… and then I get back to the city, pick up the cats from my mother-in-law’s place…
… and slip in the ice on the driveway and bruise my hip.
No, it’s not at all bad. Hardly counts as a bruise, seriously. And I’m rolling out of it as I hit the damned ice and concrete (and man, do I know how to fall now, from all this stuff, which is just bonus, when you think about it) and I’m already grimacing, thinking, y’know…
… y’know, shit happens. You can get hurt so many ways. Whyinhell not do it trying something actually fun? Seriously, if I’d really done something debilitating in that driveway, I’d be kicking myself I hadn’t been trying for more air on the hill.
The lesson being, I think: seriously, just go for it, dammit. Do something fun, and do something a little bit scary. The ground is coming, one way or another, anyway.
It was partly just fatigue that I stayed off the kickers—long, hard week at work. And also it was a very cold day, with very hard landings. And partly that I’ve generally been advised learning to nail those hop and spin things is good for your form. If you can spin ‘em with the tiny bit of air you get that way, that’s a good thing, and also, you get the form so you’re comfortable jumping from the kicker, which makes tripping over the lip a lot less likely…
Got many variations working pretty… okay. I’m going to go with okay. Still have trouble rotating solidly into the fall line, when pointed that way, but cutting into the hill a bit, I’m all right. My backside to-switch from toe edge, I can almost call reliable, now… musta landed a few dozen of those. I’m still a little awkward bringing all of ‘em down, tho’. There’s this thing I keep doing where the top of the body is a little slow coming around. Oh, I land ‘em; they just look and feel less than entirely smooth. But I have a longish skeleton, for this stuff, so I expect this is doing to be a bit of a thing for me. Lot of angular momentum to manage, and I need to manage it right. But, generally, anyway, I stick those now, which is progress…
Anyway, I’ve still got this mild complex about these things, all the same. Feel a little silly, sometimes, y’know? It’s always nice when I meet some other guy on the lift obviously with a 3 or a 4 in the tens column of his age with a terrain park pass, and I get to think for that moment: if this is a bit nuts, well, at least I’m not the only one…
And these spins, this weekend, especially, I’m doing on blues and greens—beginner runs and flats, just wait ‘til there’s tonnes of space around me, so I’m not panicking actual beginners by suddenly going airborne and spinning. And that’s a bit… Well, y’know, there’s often older folk on those, just out, just learning, and I wonder whatinhell they might be thinking. Like, man, what are you even doing? Isn’t that stuff for kids?
So anyway, I do it all the same, thinking: under goggles and helmet, who can tell for sure anyway? And whether or not they do, my business. And seriously, I’ve done everything else, anyway… And if I spin it, I land it (or not), it’s all good. I try not to let it bug me.
And I get through the whole thing—two days of that, the kids in their lessons—with no injuries at all to speak of. Legs sore just from all the effort, actually, which is pretty much ideal: muscles learning and building. So many turns, my legs are saying, c’mon, you’ve got to be kidding us… Another, now?
… and then I get back to the city, pick up the cats from my mother-in-law’s place…
… and slip in the ice on the driveway and bruise my hip.
No, it’s not at all bad. Hardly counts as a bruise, seriously. And I’m rolling out of it as I hit the damned ice and concrete (and man, do I know how to fall now, from all this stuff, which is just bonus, when you think about it) and I’m already grimacing, thinking, y’know…
… y’know, shit happens. You can get hurt so many ways. Whyinhell not do it trying something actually fun? Seriously, if I’d really done something debilitating in that driveway, I’d be kicking myself I hadn’t been trying for more air on the hill.
The lesson being, I think: seriously, just go for it, dammit. Do something fun, and do something a little bit scary. The ground is coming, one way or another, anyway.
13/01: Rainy weekend
I managed three more very clean backside 180s over the two foot kicker this weekend.
And about three more landed after a fashion but with various hand plants, another three to four not properly rotated and/or with the body way off to one side or the other on landing, and one very, very special one in which I caught the board on the lip of the kicker and… well… let’s just say when this happens when your back is to the direction of travel, it’s not fun.
I lived. I’d arranged a very soft landing, again, fortunately. And between that and proper safety gear, I’m mostly undamaged, overall. A few new aches, but nothing dramatic.
This all over about an hour of trying. That’s all I really got in of those, sadly. Rainy, miserable weekend, thing is, and the usual grind with everyone else in lessons, so I was doing a lot of logistic stuff… Running kids to and from stuff, dropping people off, parking cars, running rain gear up the mountain, running down narrow runs to the parking lot to do all of the above; this is the way of it when it’s the whole mob around.
Anyway, the clean ones, they felt good. And I’m pretty sure I’ve mostly got the formula down. At that conscious, step by step level, anyway. It’s just a matter of nerving myself actually to do it, and getting it more into the reflex level it needs to be in for real reliability.
About that nerving myself thing: the real problem seems to be I really don’t like looking away from downslope, as I’m going off the lip. Convincing myself to commit, swinging the head back and around, that’s the hard thing, the thing I keep blowing. Rest of me has it down just fine. It’s shoulders and up keep saying: ‘Wait… What? No. That seems like a bad idea. We’re going airborne and I’m expected to look away from where we’re going? Do not want.’
Sometimes I think my nervous system is just too damned conflicted by nature to do this stuff. I can have a whole philosophical conversation with myself about whether this is actually a good idea and shouldn’t I maybe just go do something less intimately and precariously intertwined with gravity, all in that split second I’m on the lip of the kicker… And somewhere mid discussion, I realize, damn, my shoulders, I kinda needed to rotate those, too, didn’t I? Aaaand here comes the ground again…
Anyway. You know. Usual deal. Do it enough, train the nervous system so it gets what has to be where without having to think about it so much, burn it down into those automatic circuits, it’ll get a little more repeatable, eventually, and I can debate something else entirely on the lip of the kicker, and presumably still land.
Ridiculous rain, tho’. Man. Two days of it, while up on the mountain. Had to be there anyway, with the various lesson commitments already lined up, so it was muscle through, work on what could be worked on between other duties, anyway.
Had some pretty good fun on some moguls, at least. New board being kinda softer, it can really work those, when they’re a bit soft, too, near the freezing point, like it is now. Was actually able to keep up with my mogul-fiend firstborn on her skis…
Well, for a while. Let’s face it. That girl, she can ski.
Oh. And tried to get Ollies going better, while riding switch. This is something requires mellow slopes—greens and blues, really—for me, and the thing is, when you’re a big boarder, there’s rarely a lot of particularly safe places to do that on a crowded mountain. Seeing as those easy runs tend to be full of shaky beginner skiers and boarders, it’s not real nice expecting them to deal with my not insignificant mass springing in jittery and unpredictable fashion into the air at random intervals, and not always coming down quite where and how I mean to. A day like today, where there’s almost no one about, that’s a rare and good opportunity.
Those are a bit of an unknown frontier for me, switch Ollies. I’m pretty much awful at them. Generally, when I take a kicker in switch, I don’t even try to pop; they’re that bad. Pretty sure it’s telling me something about my position, while in switch, that the Ollies are so bloody difficult.
Just not sure what, yet. Might be a bit before I do… guess we’ll see.
Anyway. Coming along.
And about three more landed after a fashion but with various hand plants, another three to four not properly rotated and/or with the body way off to one side or the other on landing, and one very, very special one in which I caught the board on the lip of the kicker and… well… let’s just say when this happens when your back is to the direction of travel, it’s not fun.
I lived. I’d arranged a very soft landing, again, fortunately. And between that and proper safety gear, I’m mostly undamaged, overall. A few new aches, but nothing dramatic.
This all over about an hour of trying. That’s all I really got in of those, sadly. Rainy, miserable weekend, thing is, and the usual grind with everyone else in lessons, so I was doing a lot of logistic stuff… Running kids to and from stuff, dropping people off, parking cars, running rain gear up the mountain, running down narrow runs to the parking lot to do all of the above; this is the way of it when it’s the whole mob around.
Anyway, the clean ones, they felt good. And I’m pretty sure I’ve mostly got the formula down. At that conscious, step by step level, anyway. It’s just a matter of nerving myself actually to do it, and getting it more into the reflex level it needs to be in for real reliability.
About that nerving myself thing: the real problem seems to be I really don’t like looking away from downslope, as I’m going off the lip. Convincing myself to commit, swinging the head back and around, that’s the hard thing, the thing I keep blowing. Rest of me has it down just fine. It’s shoulders and up keep saying: ‘Wait… What? No. That seems like a bad idea. We’re going airborne and I’m expected to look away from where we’re going? Do not want.’
Sometimes I think my nervous system is just too damned conflicted by nature to do this stuff. I can have a whole philosophical conversation with myself about whether this is actually a good idea and shouldn’t I maybe just go do something less intimately and precariously intertwined with gravity, all in that split second I’m on the lip of the kicker… And somewhere mid discussion, I realize, damn, my shoulders, I kinda needed to rotate those, too, didn’t I? Aaaand here comes the ground again…
Anyway. You know. Usual deal. Do it enough, train the nervous system so it gets what has to be where without having to think about it so much, burn it down into those automatic circuits, it’ll get a little more repeatable, eventually, and I can debate something else entirely on the lip of the kicker, and presumably still land.
Ridiculous rain, tho’. Man. Two days of it, while up on the mountain. Had to be there anyway, with the various lesson commitments already lined up, so it was muscle through, work on what could be worked on between other duties, anyway.
Had some pretty good fun on some moguls, at least. New board being kinda softer, it can really work those, when they’re a bit soft, too, near the freezing point, like it is now. Was actually able to keep up with my mogul-fiend firstborn on her skis…
Well, for a while. Let’s face it. That girl, she can ski.
Oh. And tried to get Ollies going better, while riding switch. This is something requires mellow slopes—greens and blues, really—for me, and the thing is, when you’re a big boarder, there’s rarely a lot of particularly safe places to do that on a crowded mountain. Seeing as those easy runs tend to be full of shaky beginner skiers and boarders, it’s not real nice expecting them to deal with my not insignificant mass springing in jittery and unpredictable fashion into the air at random intervals, and not always coming down quite where and how I mean to. A day like today, where there’s almost no one about, that’s a rare and good opportunity.
Those are a bit of an unknown frontier for me, switch Ollies. I’m pretty much awful at them. Generally, when I take a kicker in switch, I don’t even try to pop; they’re that bad. Pretty sure it’s telling me something about my position, while in switch, that the Ollies are so bloody difficult.
Just not sure what, yet. Might be a bit before I do… guess we’ll see.
Anyway. Coming along.
07/01: Brief bulletin
I finally managed to land a handful of backside 180s today.
Both ways. Got them working to switch, first, then managed from, too.
It’s not total victory (though I sure did yell ‘yeah!’ the first time for each when I realized I’d actually ridden away clean); more a work in progress. I managed a little over half a dozen of each before running out of time, off a kicker I built for the purpose, with a tonne of soft snow in the landing zone, for the many, many not-quite-a-landings*. And I’m not really at a 100 percent on either… was still missing ‘em on and off, after runs of like three or so clean getaways.
But they were substantial enough, anyway. Two foot kicker, with around an eight foot drop into it (and a very steep one… it was a very compact training facility I managed to arrange, which did help with getting back to the top fast and getting through lots of attempts) to build enough speed, landing maybe some three or four feet from the lip, on average. More than little surface scratching hops, at least, which I have, on occasion, awkwardly done.
Just got to thinking it was time I nailed this, and this just seemed the way to get it done. But I think I’m gonna need to dial ‘em a bit more in such relatively forgiving conditions before I bring them to the park. My body is of an age that missing one of those on a builtup kicker on pack would probably shorten my season considerably, even with serious armour brought along. I had a lot of very messy landings in the soft stuff. Just picturing that happening on a packed runout, it makes things ache.
… but yeah, the longterm plan is: 360s. Hell, I’ve got all the essential halves working, now (I’ve had both frontsides for some years now, and can pretty much do ‘em in my sleep… why it is backside took so long, you can probably chalk up to ‘busy life’ and ‘doesn’t dare break his ancient body so couldn’t even nerve himself to take off that way in the first place’). So it has to be doable. Probably just means more time still crashing messily into the soft stuff until my body starts to get it.
File under ‘old guys who jump’. Or possibly ‘old guys too stupid to grow up and take up golf or some damned thing’.
(*Seriously, like some dozen or more of not-quite-a-landings for each move. It did take some hours. And now I have very much very wet gear to dry.)
Both ways. Got them working to switch, first, then managed from, too.
It’s not total victory (though I sure did yell ‘yeah!’ the first time for each when I realized I’d actually ridden away clean); more a work in progress. I managed a little over half a dozen of each before running out of time, off a kicker I built for the purpose, with a tonne of soft snow in the landing zone, for the many, many not-quite-a-landings*. And I’m not really at a 100 percent on either… was still missing ‘em on and off, after runs of like three or so clean getaways.
But they were substantial enough, anyway. Two foot kicker, with around an eight foot drop into it (and a very steep one… it was a very compact training facility I managed to arrange, which did help with getting back to the top fast and getting through lots of attempts) to build enough speed, landing maybe some three or four feet from the lip, on average. More than little surface scratching hops, at least, which I have, on occasion, awkwardly done.
Just got to thinking it was time I nailed this, and this just seemed the way to get it done. But I think I’m gonna need to dial ‘em a bit more in such relatively forgiving conditions before I bring them to the park. My body is of an age that missing one of those on a builtup kicker on pack would probably shorten my season considerably, even with serious armour brought along. I had a lot of very messy landings in the soft stuff. Just picturing that happening on a packed runout, it makes things ache.
… but yeah, the longterm plan is: 360s. Hell, I’ve got all the essential halves working, now (I’ve had both frontsides for some years now, and can pretty much do ‘em in my sleep… why it is backside took so long, you can probably chalk up to ‘busy life’ and ‘doesn’t dare break his ancient body so couldn’t even nerve himself to take off that way in the first place’). So it has to be doable. Probably just means more time still crashing messily into the soft stuff until my body starts to get it.
File under ‘old guys who jump’. Or possibly ‘old guys too stupid to grow up and take up golf or some damned thing’.
(*Seriously, like some dozen or more of not-quite-a-landings for each move. It did take some hours. And now I have very much very wet gear to dry.)
21/11: Let me show my board
… my board, let me show you it:
… the thing is, my old Skunk Ape, apart from getting scary worn had also become increasingly impractical for another reason: it was built for someone many pounds heavier than I now am. It was hard for me to snap before. Now, it would probably be all but impossible.
… so this is a TRS. It’s an all-round sorta board, good for a bit of park, a bit of riding groomies, which will probably be most of this year. And should be much easier for someone of my current mass actually to pop.
… and yes, I ride only evil boards now. It’s a rule.
The hill opens tomorrow. We’ll be on it Saturday. The world begins anew.
… so this is a TRS. It’s an all-round sorta board, good for a bit of park, a bit of riding groomies, which will probably be most of this year. And should be much easier for someone of my current mass actually to pop.
… and yes, I ride only evil boards now. It’s a rule.
The hill opens tomorrow. We’ll be on it Saturday. The world begins anew.
You know the drill. Work’s been busy/life’s been busy.
I was some weeks at Tremblant, but wound up working close to half of it anyway—work stuff that arose—burned a lot of 4G through the tethered phone. And the second week—the one I wasn’t so much working—was honestly kinda sad. Crazy warm for March. Tried to make myself go out each day anyway, but each day there was more melt. Would do a run, come back the next day, and it would be half grass and rock.
Bright side: boarding in shorts. Less bright side: having to, because I was absolutely dripping with sweat. And less still: all this happening in March.
Kept telling myself: hey, it’s all good… I’m at a mountain… yes, a kinda sadly, soppy, drippy, melting mountain, but still: a mountain.
Guess I’m going to have to get used to heat*, I guess. Winters are rapidly becoming extinct.
In other news: I was able to use a bit of the ‘too depressing and soppy to ride’ time actually to get back to work on some fiction… somethin’ been on hiatus too long. Took one of those books that’s been sitting complete plot- and story-wise but sub-par editing-wise, took another crack at it. Made myself a list of to dos for it… Trying to make myself commit to get through ‘em, get something in the mail again…
I dunno. Seems to me maybe I have too many lives already. But what can ya do. The book, she is there. And maybe has a bit of potential. Has an ending, of all things, after all… and a beginning… it’s just some of the bits in the middle don’t, to my mind, so much hold together. Anyway, be a bit of a waste, now, just to let it moulder.
(*/Or die out myself, too, I guess.)
I was some weeks at Tremblant, but wound up working close to half of it anyway—work stuff that arose—burned a lot of 4G through the tethered phone. And the second week—the one I wasn’t so much working—was honestly kinda sad. Crazy warm for March. Tried to make myself go out each day anyway, but each day there was more melt. Would do a run, come back the next day, and it would be half grass and rock.
Bright side: boarding in shorts. Less bright side: having to, because I was absolutely dripping with sweat. And less still: all this happening in March.
Kept telling myself: hey, it’s all good… I’m at a mountain… yes, a kinda sadly, soppy, drippy, melting mountain, but still: a mountain.
Guess I’m going to have to get used to heat*, I guess. Winters are rapidly becoming extinct.
In other news: I was able to use a bit of the ‘too depressing and soppy to ride’ time actually to get back to work on some fiction… somethin’ been on hiatus too long. Took one of those books that’s been sitting complete plot- and story-wise but sub-par editing-wise, took another crack at it. Made myself a list of to dos for it… Trying to make myself commit to get through ‘em, get something in the mail again…
I dunno. Seems to me maybe I have too many lives already. But what can ya do. The book, she is there. And maybe has a bit of potential. Has an ending, of all things, after all… and a beginning… it’s just some of the bits in the middle don’t, to my mind, so much hold together. Anyway, be a bit of a waste, now, just to let it moulder.
(*/Or die out myself, too, I guess.)
05/03: Tremblant tour, 2012
Due to certain features of our schedule—and the fact that she’s really the best skier in the family—my daughter and I have been skiing/riding together a lot this year.
And we’ve taken it on as a project therefore to attempt to do every run at Tremblant between the New Year and the spring closing.
Status so far: 55 of 95 runs done. And detailed below.
And yes, with the exception of a few double black glades, really, much of what’s left is a bunch of milk runs. Thing is, my daughter is working on her level eight, so her coach doesn’t tend to take her into a lot of greens, and I tend to stay away from those because really, it’s only polite to give beginners their space—especially when you’re six feet tall and typically moving fast… And yeah, greens with flats aren’t a whole lot of fun on a board anyway.
Anyway. Our list so far:
Vertige
Dynamite
Deserres
Flying mile
Expo
Cossack
Buzz
Sensation bas
Réaction
Petit Bonheur
Bon vivant
Beauchemin haut
Beauchemin bas
Lowell Thomas
Banzai
Marie-Claude Asselin
Fuddle Duddle
Windigo
Sissy Schuss
Duncan
Action
Letendre
Vanier
Géant
Supérieure
CBC
Algonquin
Kandahar
McCullough
Taschereau
Toboggan
Tape-cul
Tiguidou
Porc-a-pic
La Jamme
La Garette
Ryan Haut
Grand Prix
Nansen
Nansen Haut
Mi-Chemin
Johannsen
Chalumeau
Belvédère
Ligne de Pente
Dunzee
Beauvallon
Alpine
Sentier des Pruches
La Crête
Laurentienne
Charron
Bière-en-bas
Saint Bernard
Roy Scott
I’ll try to update as we progress. We’re going to have a week free outside the normal break, and we’re taking it there. Maybe we’ll get to some of those greens then.
And we’ve taken it on as a project therefore to attempt to do every run at Tremblant between the New Year and the spring closing.
Status so far: 55 of 95 runs done. And detailed below.
And yes, with the exception of a few double black glades, really, much of what’s left is a bunch of milk runs. Thing is, my daughter is working on her level eight, so her coach doesn’t tend to take her into a lot of greens, and I tend to stay away from those because really, it’s only polite to give beginners their space—especially when you’re six feet tall and typically moving fast… And yeah, greens with flats aren’t a whole lot of fun on a board anyway.
Anyway. Our list so far:
Vertige
Dynamite
Deserres
Flying mile
Expo
Cossack
Buzz
Sensation bas
Réaction
Petit Bonheur
Bon vivant
Beauchemin haut
Beauchemin bas
Lowell Thomas
Banzai
Marie-Claude Asselin
Fuddle Duddle
Windigo
Sissy Schuss
Duncan
Action
Letendre
Vanier
Géant
Supérieure
CBC
Algonquin
Kandahar
McCullough
Taschereau
Toboggan
Tape-cul
Tiguidou
Porc-a-pic
La Jamme
La Garette
Ryan Haut
Grand Prix
Nansen
Nansen Haut
Mi-Chemin
Johannsen
Chalumeau
Belvédère
Ligne de Pente
Dunzee
Beauvallon
Alpine
Sentier des Pruches
La Crête
Laurentienne
Charron
Bière-en-bas
Saint Bernard
Roy Scott
I’ll try to update as we progress. We’re going to have a week free outside the normal break, and we’re taking it there. Maybe we’ll get to some of those greens then.
