Like an abusive relationship I get thrown to the ground and get up for more. Telltale signs of beatings surface in the form of bruises on my knees and tailbone area. I avoid questioning as to why my clothes are ripped and torn. Mountain, you are a cruel mistress.
While we're all here, lets take a minute to laugh at the Texan who decided to learn how to snowboard. At first it seemed a good idea, some of my closest friends being snowboard instructors and me living in Queenstown, one of the best places in the world for it. Plus there was the "cool factor." Snowboarders always look so smooth and confident, striding with purpose and so sure of their passion that I wanted to be in their Cool Kid Club. Little did I know the price I would pay for my vanity.
Day one we gather at Zeb and Andys house before going up Coronet Peak, the mountain closest to Queenstown. As preparation for my first lesson, Andy sits me down in front of the TV and I play Shaun White Snowboarding on the XBox for a few minutes. If you don't know who Shaun White is either, don't ask a snowboarder. They will get angry. Up on the mountain which wasn't even open yet, we hike up a bit and Zeb very patiently teaches me the basics of sliding, turning, braking and falling. I am absolute crap but stubborn as hell, so for the next few days we spent our mornings hiking up, boarding down, and hiking back up again. Bruises and pains start to appear, as do the beginnings of addiction. It was then I realized I was in serious trouble, because snowboarding is a seriously expensive addiction.
So far I have been very lucky with gear, or perhaps destiny had taken hold once again. On the mountain I need a set of thermals, a waterproof snowboarding jacket and pants, boots, bindings, board, goggles, gloves, and an assortment of hats, hoodies, scarves, wool socks and hankerchiefs to cover my entire body and shield me from the icy torrent. All of this came to me quite serendipidously through several friends, except the boots which I bought used and cheap. With my first ever collection of winter gear I was ready for the start of the season, or so I thought. While I'm being physically abused by the kiddie slope on the first day on the lifts, Andy breaks his collarbone at the top and is instantly out for six weeks. The reality that I could get seriously injured sets in, and I finish earlier than usual and go over to Pete's house to borrow his BMX helmet which I have been wearing religiously ever since.
I know the helmet kicks my "cool factor" down a few notches, but we all know I'm not cool anyway. The mountain fashion scene is a strage beast and I want no part in it. I am there to snowboard in my secondhand gear and I don't want anyone watching me while I do it, which is exactly the opposite thought of everyone else there. The "snow bunnies" walk around wearing makeup and designer gear that they would ruin if they actually got on the lift, all the guys are wearing oversized, baggy shirts and pants that they're about to trip on, and there's a weird new trend to wear mismatching flourescent outfits that I just don't understand because it looks pretty ridiculous and hurts my eyes. I blame the Australians for that one.
In total I did five days on the lifts (not counting my training days) of Coronet Peak and The Remarkables, another mountain near town. I connect my turns now, I shred, I board on the greens and some blues, and I am so addicted to this crazy sport that I am concerned for my sanity and wellbeing. I have never visualized myself being a mountain person, but two months of boarding and I am beginning to love them. I've started saying weird things like "Epic shred aye bro! Sweet as ride!" whatever that means. The cold is bearable when the sun is shining and the mountain is covered with powder. How snow has the ability to be so soft and so hard at the same time I will never know, but we have made peace and I smile whenever I fall, knowing that the mountain is simply putting me in my place when I get a bit too cocky.
For now, these beginnings will have to do. Today is my last day in Queenstown, and it will be sorely missed. Tomorrow Crazy Carl, Pete and I are driving up to Nelson to say goodbye to the beautiful people I have grown to love there and think of as family. I only have one month left here in New Zealand until they boot me out, so I'm going to check out the North Island before catching my flight to Germany on July 27th, thus starting a new adventure and falling in love with life all over again.
And as Zeb always says: "If you're living on the edge, you're not taking up too much space."
