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ACTIVITIES
 Cold Pick Snowboarding By Mike Finkel
Cold Pick
Snowboarding |
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Hot Pick Mountain Biking |
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At first, you will find that the sport of snowboarding involves three edges. There's the front edge of your board, the rear edge of your board-and the bottom edge of your chin. It's only a matter of days, I'm pleased to report, before you've paid your snowboarding dues and this third edge is essentially retired. I was able to eliminate the use of my chin after a tough weekend of trial-and-error (and a couple of lessons) at Big Sky Resort, in southern Montana, not far from my home.
But it was a few winters later, in Alaska, when I really learned to snowboard. I traveled to the Chugach Mountains, the shark-fin-shaped peaks that rise out of Prince William Sound, and spent a week riding some of the steepest, snowiest terrain in North America.
Standing on a snowboard, knee deep in powder, atop an Alaskan mountain with the approximate silhouette of the Eiffel Tower, is my definition of sporting nirvana. I steel my nerves, give myself a brief internal pep talk, and then gradually allow my weight settle onto my front foot. I enter the run.
The speed, initially, is startling, the wind trilling in my ears, my muscles concerned with preventing a fall rather than augmenting my ride. Soon, however, I begin to relax. Snowboarding is all about relaxation. It's is one of the reasons I love it. Alpine skiing, with its body-forward posture, is an aggressive, attack-the-mountain pursuit. Snowboarding's sideways stance encourages a more passive, play-with-the-hill style. The mountain and I, we're on the same team. It's a good team. My board cuts deep trenches, snowflakes catching the sun and sparkling like glitter. I don't ride on the snow but rather in the snow. The powder is light as gossamer. I ease out slow, rounded arcs-safe, savoring. The run is 4,000 vertical feet, and I lose myself in the moment, adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream, my grin working its way out to my ears. Sometimes I start to laugh, out loud, even though no one can hear me. Long before I reach the bottom my body feels warm as a whiskey buzz and I'm radiating the ephemeral sensation of pure, uncomplicated joy. This, I realize, is why I ride.
Read the Hot Pick - Mountain Biking
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