Levelling up on the downhill slopes.

Ah, what a weekend. Ten centimeters of snow, and not your typical howling, road-closing, skin-freezes-in-thirty-seconds variety, either. No, this was the good stuff. Light, tiny flakes, hardly any wind, a high of -2... this was a weekend to go snowboarding.

Hidden Valley, like most slopes in the prairies, are 30% ski resort and 70% last resort. Still, it's not a bad place to bury one's demons. After all, my last trip didn't go so well, and nobody wants to spend spring break in Banff full of self-doubt. Fortunately, I had the Right Tool For The Job.

The Gearing-Up sequence is a staple of coolness in movies: a swift montage of close-ups showing the hero pulling straps, fitting buckles, pulling gadgets off the shelves, loading weapons, affixing mechanical hands, etc., and then the camera pulls back, showing that the hero is ready for action. Interestingly, it can be argued that Bruce Lee cracking his knuckles is also a Gearing-Up sequence, since a) that's all he needs, and b) it would be a pretty poor staple of coolness that didn't include Bruce Lee. Anyway, there's also a subset of Gearing-Up sequences known as the Right Tool For The Job (RTFTJ). This is when the protagonist pulls out his father's sword, or the gun he swore he'd never use again, or whatever's in the guitar case. It's that cinematic moment of animism when the audience knows that the hero just stacked the deck in his favour.

In retrospect, then, it was actually a good thing I rented a board last time, because when I pulled my old Spitfire Wide out of the closet, I could almost hear the background music reaching a crescendo. It was time to do this right. And that's exactly what happened. Full speed, no snowplowing, cutting through trees, hitting the occasional (small) jump... in fact, I even rode a teeny-tiny bit of rail. It was hardly even raised out of the snow, but it was a rail nonetheless. That's the sort of day that only an RTFTJ moment can deliver. It's like Hollywood came true, for a few hours.

But without question, the best part of the day was telling a seven-year-old boy that he had to stop snowboarding until his little brother caught up to him. The kid nearly broke out in tears... I like to think of myself as a generally non-reprehensible person, but schadenfreude like that is hard not to savour.

Ow.

Apparently, I went with the "weep softly" option.

The funny thing about the human body is that the more it heals, the worse it looks. Right now the injury looks and feels awful, but I choose to focus on the promise of progression. Actually, it's not that bad -- and besides, if I complain too much (i.e., at all), it's inevitable that someone will pop up and profess that since I've never lost 10% of my skin in a gas fire, I don't know what pain really is.

Sorry. Bedrest is making me bitter.

On the bright side, I've had an excuse to stay on the couch all weekend and play Hotel Dusk Room 215. The picture doesn't lie: it honestly is a hard-boiled noir mystery story dressed up like A-Ha's video for "Take On Me". Sadly enough, that video is still one of the top ten applications of comics in film... where was I? Ah, yes. The perfect past-time for a recuperative weekend.

I did make one foray out into the world yesterday, though: I picked up some brand-new boots and bindings for my snowboard. They even lace automatically! Just pull a single string, then clip it to the side of your boot. What a great toy innovation! Now, I just need to be able to look at them without shrieking in horror.

It's all part of the healing process.

Le Papillon hits a windshield.

Tonight, I'm entering this post while I kneel in front of my computer. No, my Apple-worship hasn't entered some dangerous new phase; it's because I can't sit.

I was entreated to hit the slopes at Elkwater today. It's no Marmot Basin, but it's no Mission Ridge, either. It's only an hour out of town, and I figured that this was a good way to brush off the skills that were laid to fallow last year.

Actually, I was on the blue squares by my second run. Carving and spinning, banking and jumping... nothing "extr33m", but I was feeling pretty good. Naturally, that's when I hit the ground. Hard. Holy Frith, did that hurt. I honestly think I opened up a new chakra -- and I don't think they're meant to be opened like that.

So, my weekend plans have now changed to center around lying face-down on my couch and weeping softly. You'll either get some top-quality blogging or none at all. We'll see.

There is one thing I learned from this adventure, though:

I can't wait to go snowboarding again.