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...

Bare cave

As part of the 11 week course package we are allocated a certain number of credits towards purchasing additional activities. Activities range from cat-skiing (getting dropped off by a snowmobile in an area of untouched terrain and not felines on miniature skis) to an NHL hockey match. A prudent me attends the selection session and my choice of activities include first aid training and avalanche safety. Decisions I begin to regret when housemates return elated from a thrilling day of dog sledding or snowmobiling.

Despite a relatively dull classroom-based theory element to the avalanche safety course, the field trip element makes for an enjoyable day...which is more than can be said for the 8 hour first aid course. Performing CPR on a training dummy, tying a variety of slings and frisking strangers for pretend cuts and bumps doesn't really compare to the thrill of riding fresh tracks, accessed by a ride on a snowmobile, and my new first aid certificate offers little redress (but can I call myself Dr Ian now?)

150km from Fernie is another resort, Kimberley, which is about half the size of Fernie and offers wider trails, ideal for honing carving skills. Off one of the trails and through a few trees we find a cave; allegedly the habitat of bears. Braver members of my group venture into the cave to challenge the myth, whilst I hang back to "keep guard". I learn just how quickly I can strap into my bindings after someone comes running out of the cave claiming a bear sighting (we establish that the 'bear's eyes' that had been spotted were just reflections on some ice and the cave contains nothing more than a few scary looking stalactites).

With just over a week to go before my level 1 examinations focus will now need to turn to the weakest aspect of my riding...steeps!