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...

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!

Jon?...Doh!

There are just over 100 people on the ‘nonstop’ course, 48 of whom are snowboarders. The snowboarders are broken up, according to experience, into six groups of 8 and instructors rotate each week around the groups providing all groups with tuition. Each instructor has their own ‘specialism’ (e.g. one may primarily focus on the technical aspects of riding, another may prefer riding steeps and moguls and another just likes to hit big jumps) so a broad range of riding skills receive specific focus.

This week my group (who have diminished from 8 to 6 following injury and a confidence crisis) ride with Jeremy, one of the younger instructors who favours freestyle riding and spins. Despite an enthusiastic start to the week, aches and pains in previously undiscovered muscles quickly take their toll and my riding ability begins to decline culminating in a collision with one of the girls in the group, whilst another member of the group falls so hard on his head that his helmet splits. It doesn’t hurt to be reminded how dangerous the sport can be...well, I suppose it hurts a bit.

Last week, after a day’s riding, a few of us went for a drink in a Fernie bar where we were joined by a journalist for the free local monthly magazine; ‘The Fernie fix’. She asked us a couple of questions for the magazine and took a few photos. The February issue of the ‘The Fernie fix’ was released today and is available everywhere in Fernie. At the back of the magazine is a slightly unflattering, drunken picture of me with the caption “30 year old nonstoper, Jon Carrier”!...I’ll try and convince people Jon is my uglier, non-identical twin brother.

Boot & Fernie

13 hours after leaving London Heathrow I arrive at my accommodation in Fernie to a house party, thrown by the course attendees who had arrived a week earlier. The house I will be calling home for the next twelve weeks resides 12 others but there are far more guests at the party, making it unclear who are actually going to be my housemates. Despite employing Derren Brown memory techniques I quickly forget the names of the many people I meet (perhaps I'll suggest name badges...)

The following day is spent exploring Fernie, a small mountain town comprising mainly ski/snowboard shops and primarily relying on visitors of the Fernie resort. We also attend the first of our 'technical sessions', a discussion on equipment which concludes with me convinced that I need to spend $350 on boot customisation. Like the mechanic who forbids you to drive out of his garage with 'those tyres', the presenters of the talk advise me not to ride a single day more in my ankles, without their custom orthotics. Their use of technical and physiological terms promptly close the sale.

We are allocated and introduced to the groups we'll be riding in for the next 5 weeks and I am surprised, pleased and apprehensive not to find myself in the lowest group. Any fears are soon alleviated when the switch riding and chairlift dismounting ability I had developed in Breck firmly qualify me for this group. The first two days of riding are unstructured, informal and are aimed at finding 'snow legs'. We also get to explore some of the Fernie resort: a vast, challenging and unpopulated resort (there are no queues on any chairlift).

My intention for this trip was to focus on the snowboarding and try to avoid a binge drinking replay of fresher's week. My alarm wakes me at 7:30am on Saturday morning, after 3 hours of sleep, in order to see the Olympic torch parade through Fernie. Still slightly inebriated I head to the town hall with the rest of the Fernie community, acknowledging that my good intentions may well be challenged over the next 12 weeks...

The mitten state

Michigan, 'the mitten state' (named not because of its temperature but its shape), hosts roughly two dozen ski resorts the largest of which has an elevation of circa 650ft. Spoilt by the 10,000ft elevation of Colorado, I set low expectations for riding in Michigan, however the blue skies and comfortable (yet freezing) temperatures make for enjoyable cruising.

After losing a third of our party to a knee injury after a tumble on a black run the first day of riding, Laura and I set off on our north Michigan ski tour to Caberfae, Boyne Highlands, Boyne Mountain and Nub's nob with Laura graciously assuming sole responsibility for the long, icy drives whilst I attempt to provide entertainment in the form of games of categories and "what are your top five...[blank]".

Apart from Caberfae, all three resorts have a similar quantity of trails offering a variety of terrain from steeps, to moguls, to trees, to rollers and during our three day tour we manage to ride them all. With Laura having skied since her early teens I am pushed to keep up, often lagging behind due to a tumble or unplanned loss of momentum and running out of excuses when I meet her at the bottom of each trail:

"The cold made my feet cramp up and I slowed to stretch them out";

"I stopped to take some photos";

"I was attempting some cool new freestyle moves";

"Some skiers got in my way and I had to slow down";

"I needed to readjust my bindings";

"Erm...I fell over"

Unlike Colorado, the Michigan resorts have many more flat cat-tracks requiring significant amounts of gruelling skating. But with the excessive amounts of greasy hamburgers, pulled pork sandwiches, pizza, fries and cake that I'm becoming accustomed to in the US, my arteries are grateful. With a week to go before flying to Canada for the 13 week course, my stint in Michigan has helped me to maintain my 'snow legs', despite the cholesterol saturated blood flowing through them a little slower.

"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.