The last two winters delivered an unbelievable amount of snow but I must regretfully acknowledge that this season the snow gods did not smile upon Utah. The powder came late and infrequently this year. With that said, Jason and I still had a great time boarding. We made the most of the handful of good storms we did have. Work and life were skipped as often as necessary when sweet powder presented itself. We hit the slopes on eight occasions, three of which were in one divine week, as we were called forth by the promise of sunshine or the arrival of fresh fluff.

My education in the art of boarding continued this year. I conquered my first black diamonds, attempted wall hits, rode tighter tree runs, and picked up my speed. Of course, I also wrecked masterfully several times. Like when I was catapulted through the air by some rock-solid hard pack and landed on my knees with a ferocious might that knocked the breath out of me and left them swollen and bruised for weeks or when I somersaulted all the way down a black diamond hill in an unstoppable fashion that resembled the growing human snowball tumble you see in cartoons. Not some of my finer moments but hey, for boarders pain equals progression, which explains why I’m such an amazing rider now. (Shut up and let me hold onto the dream.)

Earlier this week Jason and I rode the slopes of Brighton on their closing day. We mingled with caped skiers and riders in pink bunny suits as we celebrated another season and mourned its end. The boarding may only have been mediocre this year compared to the last couple, we may not have been enticed into the mountains as often or blasted by blizzard after blizzard, but we still found the sweetness. For all those that seek powder with hearts as pure as freshly fallen snow shall obtain it. This the gods of winter have promised and this they will bestow. Amen.