“There’s gnargnarPOWPOW on the mountain. Let’s straightline that bitch.”
“Whoa. Don’t get aggro. Colorado type powpow or Utah powpow? I’ve snowboarded everywhere and Utah powpow is da sick shit.”
“After shredding let’s down some PBR.
“Ah-Ight.”
Do you know the difference between a snowboarder and God? God doesn’t think he’s a snowboarder.
I’ve been to parties where I accidentally got stuck in between a conversation of snowboarders and every snowboarder talked like they were the Mohammed Ali of the mountains. They all floated like butterflies and stuck their landings like a bee. Each person caught the highest air, had snowboarded in the sickest locals and said, “No friends on a powder day” and then they’d toast their PBRs to the snow gods even though they each felt like they were that diety.
I would try to contribute to their conversations with fist bumps or pulling up my boxer shorts, but trying to relate to snowboarders by discussing document shredding really put me on the outs.
So, when I was asked to hike the Castle Rock Loop to go snowboarding, I politely bowed out. The Castle Rock Loop is approximately a 7 to 9 mile hike on the outskirts of McMurdo Station. It wasn’t the cold or distance of this hike that met my immediate decline, it was knowing this hike would take several hours. Several hours of sick, shredding, trippendicular vernacular was not how I wanted to spend my day off.
Then, I realized, I had to. Not for the fun. Not for the adventure, but for the future.
We suited up and headed out. Everyone had a snowboard and I brought the tool of my trade: A blue Galley tray. I’ve seen how these food trays slide through my dish machine, so I could only assume I could turn my Antarctic livelihood into my Antarctic recreation.
Most of the hike around Castle Rock is just flat or with some small “rollers.” These hills were made for hiking, and not for boarding. But, at the base of Castle Rock, the snowboarding began.
It would be great to say I was a natural. To say, I strapped on my board and gave Shaun White a run for his Gold Medal. Instead, I snow-butted. I was like a fat American exploring the Grand Canyon because I was on my ass.
If my ass was where I was supposed to be, then my ass was where I wanted to be. I took off the snowboard and pulled out my dining tray. On my blue tray, I hit the black diamond course. I was sledding further off the marked track into a place where even the snowboarders didn’t dare go. That’s when someone yelled, “Those black flags are marking The Crevasse.”
I bailed off the blue tray and this ended my illustrious snowboarding/traying expedition. But, I can’t wait to get back to the states and caught up in a conversation with a gaggle, murder, bunch or dorks of snowboarders. Because, after they down their 24 oz cans of PBR tallboys, I’ll simply say, “I boarded in Antarctica. And I was sick.”
