Epi'b'logue

The snow is melting, the mountain is showing muddy patches like an unpleasant rash and the downtown shops are focussing on sales of mountain bikes. I'm at the end of the season and the end of my career break. Like most people on the course I finish slightly disappointed, not so much because the season is at an end but because I didn't meet the unrealistic expectations I initially had about the ability I would attain by the end of the season.

I expected to be able to:

- comfortably land 360 spins off drop-ins and jumps (at best I land the occasional 180);

- drop in from 10 foot verticals (I may have once dropped in from about 5 foot);

- grab and shifty the board (I can often get an Indy grab, but not much else);

- fluidly ride tight trees (I still have to scrub my speed after two or three turns).

However, more optimistically, I can now ride most on-piste terrain (and can survive off-piste) and my freestyle riding is reasonable given that there is no park at Fernie to practise in. So despite slight disappointment at not being the Mr Miyagi of snow, I'm happy with the progress I've made and am confident that I can now get the most out of the resorts on future winter holidays. I'd like to think that this season is just the beginning and I can now start to work towards achieving those objectives over the coming years (as long as my dodgy knees and ankles can hold out!)

Thanks for reading!

Avoiding the touch

I apprehensively accept my backpack, roll mat, shovel and winter sleeping bag - essential items for surviving the impending winter camping trip I foolishly signed up for at the beginning of the course. Although I don't normally consider myself claustrophobic, the thought of sleeping for 8 hours in a six foot deep hole in the snow, large enough to only fit three men, raises concerns. It'll certainly be cosy, particularly after I insist on a reasonable gap between me and the guy I'll be lying next to.

The 15 minute hike to the area which will reside our 'snow hole' is made even more exhausting by my heavy backpack (I knew I shouldn't have packed all that pinot noir!). The snow hole sleeps up to three people and takes us approximately four hours to dig. Despite receiving compliments for our perfect cuboids, used to form the roof rafters for our hole, my procrastination in smoothing their surfaces and perfecting 90 degree corners means we are left completing our camp after sunset.

After eating all the food I was able to pack into my backpack, I turn in. The winter sleeping bags keep everything warm apart from my face and the limited space in the camp restricts the option to turn over, so I'm left to attempt sleep in one position. This'll be a very long night...hope I don't need a wee!

I'm shaken awake at 7:30 the next morning after achieving 6 hours of solid sleep and craving more. Maybe I can do this Ray Mears, outdoor thing (although I'm not overeager to return to a hole in the snow just yet).

Red rash

The long-awaited weekend at Red mountain arrives (the day after Red mountain receives over a foot of fresh snow) and with its luxury ski in/ski out apartment, equipped with private hot tub, it promises a lot. Helped by the clear blue skies, warm weather and empty slopes Red doesn't fail to deliver. Red mountain is much smaller than Fernie and boasts only two mountains, but what it lacks in quantity of terrain it makes up for in off-piste tree runs, no lift lines and (for today) untouched powder. But riding powder is exhausting...

Where the snow gets chopped up by skiers and boarders, flexed legs are critical to absorb all the undulations and pretty soon my quads are burning. But this pain seems insignificant compared to when I fall in powder: Putting an arm down to help myself up just leaves me with a buried arm; unstrapping to stand up leads to buried legs; and trying to roll out just leads to a buried Ian. I learn a valuable lesson, don't fall in powder!

After an exhausting day's riding I retire to a relaxing soak in the hot tub. Safety guidelines recommend a maximum stay of 15 minutes in the hot tub; a glass of champagne and several beers later I decide to get out after realising 4 hours have elapsed. That'll test those hot tub regulations. Now, I wonder if they'll know anything about this rash...

Although I would struggle to enjoy a full season at Red, mainly due to its limited number of runs, it would provide a great holiday destination, particularly if it receives the snowfall that I experienced. This trip to Red has also alleviated the cabin fever I was beginning to feel in Fernie. Maybe I can get another trip to a BC resort before the end of the season.

Let's go riders, let's go

Besides snowboarding, skiing and curling, the Canadians go crazy for ice hockey. Here in Fernie the local team, the Ghostriders, are pretty successful and most of their players enjoy a fight so every Friday night we drink beer and watch the hockey like true Canadians. And whilst the Ghostriders progress through to the next stage of the playoffs, I'm experiencing less success with my snowboarding...

With level 1 now out of the way we're well into the AMP part of the course which is allowing us to ride around with less emphasis on perfect technique. But whilst the rest of my AMP group grow in confidence and ability I frustratingly find that my development has stagnated.

With the recent lack of improvement on the slopes and 11 days of riding ahead of me I decide to let my hair down and go for a couple of beers out in Fernie with a few friends...I awake the next morning with a sore head, a hazy memory, an empty wallet and a Yagerbomb taste in my mouth. I have vague recollections of some of the bars, but don't really remember who I spoke to (hope I wasn't too obnoxious). Fortunately I am greeted by my housemates with laughter and anecdotes about my funny behaviour at the party (...party?)

Level 1 & the lurgy

Twenty minutes late, my stomach full of chicken wings from lunch and my mouth still discoloured from the sickly sweet, hickory-smoked, BBQ sauce they were smothered in, I tumble off the chairlift rolling towards the fifty disgruntled snowboarders preparing for the start of the impending AMP competition. This afternoon is the AMP (All Mountain Pro) level 1 competition, an opportunity for us to show off our snowboarding skills and see where we rank overall on the course. I'm sure the judges didn't see me dismount that chairlift...

The competition is broken down into four elements: drop-ins; gullies; freeride; and carving, each marked out of ten. To pass level 1 twenty points are required and scoring is based on impressing the judges. We start with a gully run and whilst riders in front of me fearlessly fling themselves from the walls of the gully, landing 180s and 360s, I settle on one of the few things I can confidently do well, switch riding (that should earn me a couple of extra marks).

Next is the freeride and I again look on as people fly through the trees and carve up the moguls, but what can I do? I know, I'll ride some switch...again (maybe my playbook is a little lacking). We then move onto the drop-ins and I manage to get, what feels like, big air. But a quick glance at the underwhelmed expression on the judges faces convince me otherwise. Finally we get to the carving element, maybe I could carve switch to impress the judges...who am I kidding, I can barely carve regular!

We gather in the bar for the announcement of who ranked first, second and third:

"Third place, with 32 points, is Simon", that's fair enough, Simon's fearless and excellent at carving.

"Second place, with 35 points, is Matt", well that's expected, Matt's been snowboarding for about four seasons. Having drunk a couple of beers my mind starts to wander and I irrationally contemplate the potential that I've grossly underestimated myself and in fact switch riding is considered exceptionally technical and impressive and that perhaps I really did get seriously big air off that drop-in. Hmmm, maybe I have won...

"and first place, with 37 points, is Jamie"

More than half the course have been unwell over the past two weeks, three people on the course have been diagnosed with pneumonia and one has been diagnosed with a potential case of swine flu. Up until now I've managed to avoid the illness but this morning I awoke with a sore throat, fearing that the lurgy may now have infected me and dreading a diagnosis of meningitis or the bubonic plague from the apparently paranoid, Fernie doctor!

Exam day

Six 8 year olds who have never been snowboarding; five 24 year olds who are beginning to link turns; and an unconfident teenager who can sideslip: The scenarios I am given to demonstrate my CASI level 1 teaching ability. Having successfully shown an aptitude to ride at the required level, the final day of examination rests on how well I can convey the "Quickride" CASI principles to my new group. My group for the examination comprises three boarders from the top group and three who, although not with nonstop, have all snowboarded for at least a season so I often find myself playing catch up. As the group consists of unfamiliar faces it makes the patronising demeanour that I must adopt in the role playing a little easier.

Discussing favourite cartoons with the 8 year olds and lavishing compliments on the unconfident teenager helps me to secure some marks but my lengthy explanations, incorporating fall lines and laws of physics, are deemed 'too technical' leaving the result of my level 1 uncertain. One by one we are called up by our examiner who provides feedback of the three days and gives us our result and my uncertainty increases when the best two riders in our group are each told that they have failed.

"How do you think your riding and teaching went this week Ian?" the examiner asks,

"Well I've certainly improved these past few days after putting into practice the helpful techniques that you suggested Meg!" I brown-nosingly reply,

"I think so too, which is why I'm pleased to tell you that you've successfully achieved the standard required to become a CASI level 1 snowboard instructor"

"...cool"

I'm now about halfway through the nonstop course and couldn't say that my riding has really improved. In fact, if anything, it feels as if it has deteriorated slightly since riding in Colorado with having to concentrate on perfect CASI stance. But with the level 1 examinations now out of the way I have the option of opting out of the level 2 examinations and instead choose a programme which focusses more on rider improvement, so hopefully I should soon be getting some 'sick' (impressive) air and shredding (riding) the fresh 'pow' (new snow). At least I'm getting used to the lingo...

Boarding vs. Bananagrams

A week before the exam and our focus turns to mock teaching scenarios and honing our riding skills to conform to the CASI (Canadian Association of Snowboard Instructors) mould. Whilst the skiers sit a theory-based written exam and are analysed for four days, the snowboarders have no written element and only have three days of analysis. Just more reasons not to be a skier!

My mock teaching scenario involves a class of 14 year olds, learning beginner turns, and despite an adequate demonstrate of the turns I receive criticism for my choice of language. The trainer feels my request for one student to "elaborate" on their question inappropriate language to a 14 year old. I'm not sure I know any other way to present myself, unless I'm talking Lego, Go-Gos (small plastic figurines) or Ben 10 with Ollie, my 6 year old nephew. How do you engage the attention of 14 year olds? Fingers crossed I get a group of accountants, in their 30s.

When not on the hill, free time at the house is now occupied with games of Bananagrams, an obsession that seems to have gripped the residents of my lodge. With so many people in the house a game is almost always guaranteed. Hmm...think I'll see if anyone fancies a game...