White Lines One

Tue 12 February 2013 The sweltering tropics and blue water thunder of Hawaii fall behind Jarvi as he jets into the magic of the white stuff: snow, and proper powder at that place around the bend in the far northwest of the US of A. Photos courtesy Grant Myrdal. Hawaii was sweltering. Boardshorts, flip-flops and wife-beaters were our general attire as we watched Joel Parko win his maiden world title in thumping Pipeline. Then before I knew it I was heading for Bend, Oregon, to meet up with South African-born photographer Grant Myrdal. It’s a strange coincidence that I left Hawaii and all-time Pipeline and headed for the very place that Mr Pipeline himself, had decided to settle when leaving Hawaii, it’s social problems and general gnarliness. Gerry Lopez lives in Bend, Oregon, and he’s there for the snow, as well as a better life for his family. While travelling on my little Alaskan Airlines flight with onboard Wifi it got me thinking that the place must have something special to attract a guy like Gerry Lopez. There must be something to this whole snow world and riding on powder that would take a man away from living in front of Pipe, the most prime surf digs in the known universe. I had never ever been to the snow, and all I knew in my heart is that I hate the cold, probably as a result of those bitter years spent working on construction sites in the UK, smoking bad hash, drinking warm lager in amongst poorly-toothed people, getting cold and hating life. Every cent of my savings for the last 20 years have gone on tropical surf trips, on missions where all you need is a good pair of boardshorts and a bunch of sunscreen, some sunnies and some flip-flops. When I landed in Redmond Airport all that greeted me when I climbed off the plane was cold. Ice, snow and frozen tundra. Miffness. Then the warm smile of old brah and top surf photographer turned snow photographer Grant Myrdal. Then the cold again as we trudged through the frozen carpark slush. Then a car with heated seats. It was a weird transfer from the heat of Hawaii, from surfing in boardshorts, from drinking beer with world champions and serious sunburn, to thermal underwear and double-lined beanies. Day one and it’s straight to Mt Hood Meadows (http://www.skihood.com/ ) and it’s quite a scene. The snow is dumping, the sun has gone, and there is night skiing. I’ve never seen snow before, apart from that grey wet shit that falls in the UK, and the whole vibe is totally intimidating, with hundreds of ski groms frothing for the powder that is falling softly but without a break. It’s the week before Christmas so holidays are in full swing. The place is packed, with everyone on their missions, everyone doing this weird space-walk in their heavy ski boots. We head out onto the junior slopes, at night, with the snow dumping. Snowboarding is hard. It’s really difficult. It’s fast, you crash all the time, it saps all your energy quickly, and it’s hard getting used to all your layers of clothing and goggles and gloves and boots and all the other things that go with it. It’s tricky to strap in with wet gloves and frozen fingers, and it’s physically taxing to pick your self up after every crash. You fall often so you’re doing these extended sit-ups all the time ... You know what’s going to come next. Snowboarding is hard. It’s really difficult. It’s fast, you crash all the time, it saps all your energy quickly, and it’s hard getting used to all your layers of clothing and goggles and gloves and boots and all the other things that go with it. It’s tricky to strap in with wet gloves and frozen fingers, and it’s physically taxing to pick your self up after every crash. You fall often so you’re doing these extended sit-ups all the time as you struggle to get back up, find your balance and start sliding again following gravity. When you get going, racing precariously down the hill, then it’s challenging to stop. The crashes become arduous. You become discouraged, and little kids and old ladies come whizzing past you with big smiles on their faces as they all enjoy their different versions of the rush while you sit on your wet arse ruing the day you agreed to this stupid lark. Finally you get up and you start feeling it, racing down the slope and picking up speed. The velocity comes quickly and without a moments warning you’re suddenly entrenched in the ‘holding onto a balloon’ syndrome. Like the balloon syndrome – (let go before it’s too late or hang on and keep on rising), so you’re faced with a similar situation – intentionally fall to break your speed, or carry on going faster and faster, and risk a way bigger crash further down. Either way you crash hard at least once on your first trip. Luckily we had thick powder, and my first high speed wipe-out wasn’t too bad, but with my face caked in snow and everything wet and cold, it was time to call it a day. Useless first session. I was a total kook. Day two was much of the same. Early start with mock youthful exuberance, soon dampened by constant crashes and the realization that you’re totally crap, it’s not going to come immediately, and all the experience that you have from surfing solid barrels, dropping into 8-foot waves and getting caught inside at the Kom and surviving means nothing in powder, as you’re careering down the slopes, barely in control. You’re a total and utter kook. You’re bottom of the feeding chain. You’re a grom at Muizenberg again, and it’s a total bummer. On day three I put a run together that was fairly exciting. I went up pretty high, launched down a medium slope and found my brakes, a massive leap in my learning curve. Once you find your brakes, your confidence levels soar, and you’re prepared to go, to feel the speed, to do some runs without absolute fear of not being able to stop unless by slamming into a tree. By the end of the day I was exhausted, my legs were burning and sore, my binding had dug grooves into my calves, but I was cruising down blue slopes with a fair bit of confidence. Then, and only then, did the bug bite. It bit pretty hard. To be continued. Easter Deal in Val D'Isere, France 31 March – 07 April • Return airfare ex Johannesburg • Airport taxes • Return airport transfers • 7 nights accommodation • All meals • All drinks • Ski Pass • Ski and boot hire • From R23,380 per person sharing Late Season in Livigno, Italy 23-30 March • Return airfare ex Johannesburg • All airport taxes • Return airport transfers • 7 nights accommodation at 3* hotel • Breakfast and Dinner daily • Ski pass • Ski and boot hire • From Per Person sharing: R20,710 T&Cs apply