"Just ride"

Clear about my objectives for today's class I explain to Donnie (DEFrost), in detail, exactly what areas of my riding I need to improve on.

"I'm too extended whilst riding on my toe edge and often get a lot of chatter on frozen patches of snow which means I lose some of the control and despite a flex in my legs I struggle to keep low when transitioning into..."

"Ian." DEFrost cuts me off, "Just ride."

And with these simple words, I start to genuinely enjoy snowboarding. Without minimising everything to an exact science, trying to maximise the efficiency of my alignment and setting unrealistic targets it becomes far more liberating and fun. OK, so my alignment probably isn't perfect and all my bad habits may have reappeared, but I relax enough to ride switch better than ever before.

At someone's recommendation, I visit a pub at the end of Main Street to sample some of their prize-winning beers. The attitude towards binge drinking in Frisco is refreshingly different to that in the UK and this is exemplified by the disappointment (and even contempt) shown by the bar staff as the, already somewhat inebriated, customers further along the bar order themselves another round of shots.

"Another beer, Ian?"

"Erm...no thanks."

The four weeks here in Colorado have gone surprisingly quickly, but I'm feeling about ready to return home for Christmas, shortly followed by the next leg of my trip...Michigan.

Braving the cold

The 'Tenmile range' refers to the ten mountain peaks which start in Frisco, the Northern most peak of the range, and end in Breckenridge. The peaks are imaginatively named 'Peak 1' through to 'Peak 10' and the Breckenridge ski resort comprises Peaks 7 - 10.

Despite temperatures of -22 Celsius there continues to be a lack of snow and thus only 20% of the Breckenridge trails are open to the public, none of which are black runs and which frustratingly means I am not getting an opportunity to test my ability on the more challenging terrain.

In addition to the freezing temperatures, wind speeds are reaching up to 60mph and although my Walmart balaclava keeps me moderately warm, it's so tight around my head that it makes me feel dizzy and a bit faint, like a disorientated ninja.

Nevertheless I brave the extreme conditions, joining an advanced class and quickly realising I'm out my depth. After failing several jibs (tricks), continually playing catch-up to the rest of the class and suffering an endlessly runny nose, I'm in a bad mood. Curry from the Himalayan restaurant in Frisco may be the only remedy.

Powder pillow

When we were young and Kent would get a very rare day of snow, we’d sometimes be allowed to take the sled to the park. Mum would forbid us from riding the sled standing up and after taking many painful falls on a snowboard, I now understand why. But where the 7 year old Ian would have cried and retired from sledding, the 30 year old Ian mans up and cracks on ahead down the mountain on his snowboard (albeit with slightly moist eyes).

However we’ve had several inches of fresh snow which is not only forgiving to technique, but also feels like falling on pillows when you ‘take a spill’. I’m beginning to understand why there is such an obsession with powder.

Today’s session included riding some rails...well, actually, one rail measuring about 1/2 foot wide, three feet long and not even raised off the ground. Still, I nailed it! (Once).

I'm sat in the Boat Yard in Frisco, exploiting their 2 for 1 appetisers offer and being beaten by their pizza roll. The old habits of hiding food in my pockets may need to be employed to save face...

Wheelies, wassail & wine tasting

It snowed! Not heavily, but enough for me to experience riding fresh powder. I've also discovered the joy of carving. Carving requires balancing on one edge of your board and allowing the curvature of the board to steer you across the mountain (clearly the picture is not of me carving, but executing an intentional wheelie...honestly!). I suppose carving could be compared to freewheeling on a bicycle and is surprisingly fun.

Every year the shops along Main Street, Frisco host a wine tasting evening for their customers and having signed up to some yoga classes I receive an invite to this event. Having attended a one day wine tasting course a couple of years ago I feel suitably qualified to reel-off a customary list of adjectives (oaky; fruity; erm...tannins; etc.) to describe every wine. A Pinot Noir, a Cab, a Syrah and a Sangiovese later and I'm feeling a bit light-headed (probably the altitude!) so decide to call it a night.

In addition to the wine tasting, 5th to 13th December are the Frisco Wassail days http://www.townoffrisco.com/events/wassail-days/ where the shops in Frisco produce batches of wassail (a warm, spiced cider) for customers to sample and vote for their favourite. Unfortunately only one vote is permitted per person so it looks like, over the next week, I'll be taking on a number of aliases.

Intermediate standard...maybe

After attempting to fit in with the locals with ten days of facial hair growth, my beard is patchy and scruffy and it’s time to shave (I’m beginning to look like an adolescent Mr Twit). Clean-shaven I head out for another lesson, this time in the intermediate class, instructed by Rachel.

We start with a warm up on a green run so Rachel can assess our standards (I’ve found that I’m rubbish until about the third run of the morning). Satisfied that I’m of intermediate ability she then takes us down some steeper blue runs, followed by a small mogul run. My somewhat unorthodox approach traversing the moguls leads Rachel to question her decision to qualify me to the intermediate class. But once clear of the bumps I alleviate Rachel's fears with some slightly more confident turns.

During the afternoon a ski instructor asks me to ride the chairlift with one of their 5 year old students, Martin (clearly she hadn't witnessed my ineptitude). Whilst on the chairlift Martin ignores my pearls of wisdom on the art of dismounting safely and instead entertains himself by scraping snow off the top of my snowboard. Until I notice that this is scratching up my new board, so I push Martin off the chairlift. (Just joking...With assistance from me, Martin dismounts the chairlift fine)

Now that the thanksgiving holidays have passed the mountain is far less congested, making riding a little less stressful. All we need now is a snow dump...

Chairlift incompetence

I lack the ability to dismount chairlifts. Given that only one foot is strapped to your board, you must control your dismount on just your leading leg, leaving your trailing leg unattached. Add to this a steep descent at the exit and the stress of promptly clearing the path for passengers behind me and I fall almost everytime, rolling ungracefully out of the path of the steady stream of ensuing skiers/riders.

I’ve now had three lessons and am confidently linking turns (once I escape the chairlift). The next step is to learn riding switch (leading with my right leg, rather than my left) which, I’m told, will help me to perform ‘sick tricks’. However, the thanksgiving holiday is congesting the slopes which is making riding difficult and a bit dangerous so the nauseating manoeuvres will probably have to wait until after this weekend.

I take the opportunity away from the mountain to explore the town of Breckenridge. Main street, Breckenridge comprises quaint clothing boutiques, independent cafes/restaurants and ski/snowboard rental outlets. The Breckenridge shopkeepers and locals are extremely affable and there is a relaxed pace of life. It feels like it’d be a great place to live and the lodges are only around $2.5m (c £1.5m). Time to start saving.

Anyway, back to my thanksgiving beef fajita...

Popping ollies and avoiding oysters

It's now over two weeks since leaving Lloyds and I question how I have ended up on a bus in the Rocky mountains about to embark on a snowboarding lesson at Breckenridge. Where was the rational, predictable Ian when I made the decision to quit my job and spend 5 months snowboarding? I’ve been here for two days and am feeling a little jet-lagged and possibly suffering with the ‘altitude sickness’ that the Coloradoan, sat next to me on the plane, warned me about. Helpfully she also advised I tip between 10% and 20%, always tip in bars and avoid the local delicacy known as ‘Rocky mountain oysters’ (which are not oysters).

I arrive late for my lesson but with a typically snowboarding attitude the instructor is nonchalant. After a day of riding the green slope and confidently linking my turns, the instructor encourages me to ‘pop an ollie’ (effectively this means doing a jump). He explains the technique and I manage to pop slightly less than one inch of air. Shaun White needn’t be concerned.