One of the interesting quirks of steep skiing, is the difficulty of training for the sport. It’s basically the opposite of Olympic sports, where athletes mindlessly train specific movements until they’re burned into the subconscious. Yesterday I inched towards the edge, wondering how my first steep turn would go, while trying to remember the last time I performed the movement (approx. 10 months ago in Georgia). I could go to Whistler and practice on the inbounds steeps, but a little bit of my love for skiing dies when I have to battle with the crowds. I wasn’t scared that I’d screw up, but there were still some thoughts of “how do I do this again?”
The epic high pressure continues . . .
After a week of sunny skies and melt-freeze temps, the snowpack has settled nicely. During the week’s two previous missions we tested the snow pack and it was time for something bigger.
Was down at the VIMFF for the ski film night. My little Dynafit edit was showing, and it was the first time seeing myself ski on a very big screen in front of a big audience. The feature of the night was TGR’s latest AK romp, The Dream Factory. It was a very interesting movie about the history of Alaska skiing. Had a cool segment about local legends Eric and Trevor, honing their skills on the Coast and taking it to the big powder faces of AK. But as so often in the movies, filmmakers take a great idea and sort of drop the ball. The film attempted to show the progression of ski mountaineering on the Coast by showing current rippers hucking and straight-lining massive airs. Would’ve been way cooler to show the current generation of ski mountaineers in Pemberton, following in Eric and Trevor’s footsteps. So on that note, it was great to come home and practice my own version of the Coastal ski progression.
Friday (our first day in this zone) was Beeker day. He’s an inspiration to everyone who puts on skis and pushes hard in the remote corners of the coast. Every line skied and on every skin track on this trip, I was thinking good memories. Thanks for looking over us and keeping us safe. RIP.
After packing up camp and heading home, still peaking from the last line skied, I was trying to summarize in my mind all that had gone down in the last two days. Ski sickness . . . those words kept on replaying (also an awesome site by the badass Sky Sjue). What was it? It wasn’t quite steep skiing, nor big mountain skiing, nor mini-golf either. Tobin called it “big mountain mini golf” (with a heavy dose of steep added for good measure).
After frying the body and mind on Atwell, a mild storm day allowed for some rest. But then the weather cleared, and I needed some motivation.