Back on the road again, hitting all the spots around the US and Canada, and gearing up for trip two….trip one? Well it got me back into the game! LA to NY a huge success full of fine as wine people, so let’s keep it rolling…get ready.
I’ll try to summarize the day as best I can, but as this post is going to be completely half assed, half thought, and half spellchecked, I doubt it’ll make much sense. But damn it, I’m going to try to make it come together.
Delta Flight DL74 departed at 8:16 PM Eastern Standard Time, and arrived in the Netherlands at 10:05 Central Europe time with me on it. As always for me, no sleep occurred, a small amount of alcohol was consumed, and because of this I feel like a crazy person. And me, being a genuinely observant person bordering on being an asshole, I saw some things that made me curious, confounded, and then of course, really frustrated. In the midst of my over tiredness, enjoying the Coen Brother’s hysterical take on the middle class 60s Jew, the main character said something that just clicked.
“The Uncertainty Principle. It proves we can’t ever really know… what’s going on. So it shouldn’t bother you. Not being able to figure anything out. Although you will be responsible for this on the mid-term.”
Basically, nothing makes sense, it’s never going to make sense, we should forget about it making sense, but it’s going to drive us crazy anyway. Does that make sense? No? Well I don’t really care, I know where I’m trying to go with this so I don’t really care, but I guess that attitude proves the point anyway. Let me shed some light with my examples.
First, I am driven absolutely crazy by the short, fat, incredibly hairy man waddling through the airport in gym shorts, cut off t-shirt, and sandals…not flip flops, but those rubber Adidas sandals with the strap…you know, the ones kids my age used to wear with white socks. Oh yeah, forgot, he had the white socks on too. This guy was an animal in every sense of the word, I mean, just a fucking animal. First of all, why in God’s name would someone want to flaunt looking like this? Dennis Prager, God bless him, not an hour before I saw this spectacle said something along the lines of “You may not care what you look like, but we sure do.” It is the definition of a selfish, narcissistic ass. Someone has to sit next to that, and deal with that complete disregard for the system…I have no patience for people like this, and they drive me absolutely up the wall. He should have to travel with the luggage, like an animal…and space is opening up down there, because the dogs are now sitting coach…
My next instance of not being able to figure it out is the bane of my traveling. Closely followed by roller bags, the biggest airport atrocity today is standing on the escalator. Standing. Like its a ride. I’ll let it slide with old people, children (for them it is a ride), and you know what, as a weary traveler, I get the momentary reprieve. But the fact that 98 percent of the population do this blows my mind, and adding insult to injury, you people stand in my way of a good hustle. Hug the railing, because I swear to god I’m going to start sprinting past you….the moving walkway is two-laned, and you know what, by that logic, SO IS THE ESCALATOR!! Common God Damn sense and courtesy for the ladies and gentlemen of the world, but for the animals, no. It’s a ride, and I’m going to stand with hand in hand with my giant fucking roller bag so no one can get by. Again, “not being able to figure anything out shouldn’t bother you, but you have to deal with it anyway.” Is this becoming more clear? Am I making sense? No? Alright, one more stab.
A sweet European couple tried to board the plane in front of me. The lady, mid 50s, had a big purse, a rolling duffel, and very tiny, clasped purse. Minuscule, I could stick this thing in my back pocket if I had to. Nevertheless, that’s three items, only two are allowed on the plane. I myself had a run in with this recently, and was told that I could strap two items together, and go through security with “two items”. I was tired, and it was a solution, so I didn’t question at the time. Watching it now however, the same thing occurred, and as a silent observer, I was able to question. The lady was told that she could not board the plane with the three items separated. She could, however, put the straps of the purse around the handle of the rolling duffle and wheel it in, which would make “two” items…two items…two OH WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHY! WHAT DOES THIS ACCOMPLISH??? Does this make more room on the plane!? Does the combining of the two bags somehow give the plane better lift during takeoff? I would argue that any time that might be saved by walking down the aisle with two bags is negated by taking it apart when stowing it and then lost by the 30 seconds of “you can’t do it that way, it needs to be done this way!” Asinine. What a waste of time, completely pointless, and just nonsensical.
I can’t figure this out, and it bothers the shit out of me, and I don’t understand why this bothers no one else but me. Oh, wait, I forgot I’m kind of an asshole…but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.
Anyway, Amsterdam is beautiful, so more on that later.
Well, just as I concluded, my two day excursion into the off piste realm has soured my once enjoyable experience in bounds. I now fear that my thirst for adventure has been kicked up a notch, and one of the only real enjoyments I will now find is strapping a pack on my back and hiking up the great unknown to find what I crave. It was a fantastic journey, and although it was a very commercial way of doing the backcountry, I find my knowledge and respect of the terrain has grown exponentially, and I feel that future trips will become more and more remote, which is exactly what I am looking for.
Once again, we started the day with a delicious breakfast, and once we demolished our eggs benedict, we jumped into the CAT to squeeze every last run out of our day, leaving no powder unsullied.
Darren, coming in extra hot….
Chris once again showing us why he is a level four. I took so many pictures on this particular spot, and he is the only one that made it look sharp…He’s still riding high on his avalanche from day one.
Classic Fabbri Gorilla arms. Great balance over the working edge though…and look at that knee bend!
I don’t know what it is about this kid, but he just doesn’t take a bad picture…like, ever. 
Ok, this is either Henry or Harry. I think Henry. Not only am I God aweful with names, I am piss poor at distinguishing people when they are in full gear….sorry boys.
The boys heading over the cliff. Word to the wise, on a new cliff drop, always go towards the back. Otherwise, you might test the wrong spot and ruin your run. In this particular instance, about 4 of us went over the wrong spot before a good drop was found, going down a roller instead of taking the plunge…bummer.
Chris sent it…nice butt check buddy.
And finally, I don’t know if you all heard, but I joined Jack and Chris in the “I just started a small avalanche” club. Unfortunately the footage was a little early, but you can see the snow breaking, and that’s all I really care about. Vanity scored big points today….
All in all, after about 24 runs of fresh powder, we were pretty pleased with the way the trip went. Spent a few days boarding with some new faces, met a few good people along the way, and left with a smile on my face and a desire in my heart for a hell of a lot more. A big thanks to Backcountry Snowcats and our fearless guides, who not only kept us safe, but also gave us valuable insight into the realm of their expertise. Keep on keeping on boys.
Well, Day 2 of the Backcountry Excursion has come and gone, and I am left with the sweet, fond, oddly sexual memories of the past 8 hours….oh, and the realization that tomorrow I get to do it all over again!
Started the day with a hearty Canadian breakfast from our phenomenal resident Chef/Tail Guide, pancakes with, you guessed it, Maple Syrup. Every country that frowns upon this Amber Gold needs their heads realigned (Looking at you Australia). Our energy up, we quickly get our gear on and head out for a crash course in Avalanche Safety, which usually is a God Damn waste of time, but today, well you’ll just have to wait and see….
After we were brought up to speed, we jumped into our CAT driven by a guy who, oddly enough, reminds me of Stumpy from Out Cold. From there, a long, anxious haul to the top of the mountain where we, unloaded, strapped on our weapon of choice, and dipped our ourselves into some of the freshest powder over….and over… and, well, just see for yourself…
Visability would change all day, and the Alpine section was, for the most part, a complete whiteout, but the storm subsided enough to get a few decent photo ops.
One of the only blue skies we saw all day, at the bottom of an epic alpine section. Just look at those freshies…
At Whistler Blackcomb, the popularity of the resort has erased many of the classic names given to the runs, opting for much more family friendly, politically correct affiliations to the mountain. Out in the backcountry, however, they are a bit more liberal with their lingo, opting for names such as G-Spot, Orgasm, and Novocaine. This run is called Dickface, aptly named for this tree on the top of the run.
Unfortunately on a backcountry trip, unless you have someone who uses photography as a hobby, you miss out on a lot of shots. In a sea of go pros, I was the only one who actually had a real camera, so I designated myself to try and get as many action shots as I could, whenever my “powder craze” was at it’s minimal.
Now, I wrote a few weeks ago in my Avalanche Training that I would eventually run into a scenario where I would actually have to deal with an avalanche. Well today, I wasn’t too far away. Second to last run of the day we came across a sweet powder line with a few little rollers, and headed down one at a time, just soaking it in. I went second, took a nice little line to the left, and tracked a path all the way down to the flats. As I turned around, I saw one of the Whistler Instructors breaking over one of the rollers. As soon as he came over the crest and headed down, the pressure on the top of the ridge released, sending a slide right after Chris. Chris is a unreal skier, so he was able to ride out pretty easily, and so was Jack, another skier caught near the slide. The slide itself was closer to a 2 on the scale, so it had the potential for a shallow bury if anyone was caught in it. Surprisingly, it was a very lighthearted moment for all the people on the trip, and Chris road away with his poles in the area, singing the Rocky Theme Song as he road out towards us. A pretty serious event, and all around was handled very well by everyone, especially since this is a very rare occurrence on a trip like this. I have to say, one of the coolest things I’ve seen in a while….check out the photos, you can see the slide in the upper left corner.
Here is Jack riding out of the slide. Too bad I couldn’t capture these guys in the moment, but like I said, tough to get the camera out when the powder is so crisp.
All in all, day two was a screaming success, and tomorrow is going to be a most epic conclusion. Stay tuned.
About a month ago, I was debating how I was going to survive the last leg in Whistler, as my bank account was hitting a dangerous new low. My one asset, a two day backcountry snow cat tour, was put on the chopping block…I knew that I would regret giving this up for some extra coin, but the thought seriously crossed my mind. I passed on the opportunity to cash in this chit however, and decided to leave it up to fate to decide my financial conundrum. A few days later, I was rewarded with my final disbursement of fisherman funds, and I could once again breath easy.
So, after weeks of dreaming about pillow lines, fresh tracks, and no obnoxious tourists stealing my lines, I packed up my bag with the essentials, grabbed my freshly waxed board and jumped onto the bus that would take me to the outskirts of Pemberton, just north of Whistler. After spending time chatting to our busdriver Steve, an Ontario import in the early nineties, who regaled us with tales of grappling down cliffs to drop into some intense backcountry couloirs, we waited patiently for our guides to show up with our next mode of transport…snowmobiles!
Loading the snowmobiles
After a brief hello to the group returning, their faces sporting larger than life grins from ear to ear, we got a crash course on how to operate our new machines, partnered up, and headed off into the wilderness. The hour and a half ride up to the lodge was up a series of switchbacks, and the well tracked, bumpy road set in motion sickness reminiscent of my days as a prawn fisherman, but thankfully not as aggressive. The scenery changed dramatically from start to finish, as a muddy, slushy mountain base gave way to beautiful, fluffy powder and pines.
Inaugural snowmobile trip
Cruising
After a late start to the trip, and an exhausting trek up the mountain, we finally arrived at our destination, unpacked, and settled in for some bottomless pasta and crepes for desert, courtesy of our most excellent chef. Our bellies full, we settle into our accommodation, complete with a lounge, television and music room, and an excellent fire safety presentation, reminding us that as we our in the middle of the forest, if our cabins burns down, we’re screwed.
Tomorrow is an early start, but I don’t think any of us mind, because as we glance out our windows, an endless world of powder awaits. I have a suspicious feeling that resort skiing is going to really suck after this…
While watching the Ottawa Senators close the gap on the Nashville Predators tonight, I sent a message to my giant Canadian friend asking him what the deal was with their atrocious goal scoring song. I mean, it’s awful….it’s worse than the Bruins’. He sent me a message back saying, “Fabs, just for me, just right now, name me a list of 5 things you love.”
I guess this was his way of saying I complain a lot. But here’s the thing. I love to complain. It is absolutely, unequivocally one of my favorite pastimes. The sweet serenade of a good rant voiced by me is one of the ultimate joys currently in my life. I don’t mean that I enjoy being a whining, simpering, poor excuse for a human being. The thing about complaining, is that you need to do it right, do it some justice. The middle aged woman who cries incessantly about the fact that the 40 minute wait as her plane is being serviced (so it doesn’t, you know, crash…) is an atrocity on par with genocide, needs to have her face mushed into the back of the head rest. The guy at the bar on a busy Friday who leaves a 5% tip after an angry tirade involving his server and the most egregious of offenses, an untimely mojito, needs to be dragged out by his ears and thrown into oncoming traffic. But when I’m chatting to a very lovely young lady at the bar, and I watch her eyes light up as the latest Kesha song comes on for the millionth time, and my eye involuntarily twitches, then I have to say, the pure poetry that will come out of my mouth should have her dragging me back to my apartment, not eyeing me with great disdain.
It’s not that their aren’t things in life that make me smile. In fact, I have a lot of passion and love for things that don’t suck. But that’s just it, the percentage of things that make me happy and fun-loving is grossly overshadowed by life’s minor annoyances: People that stand on moving sidewalks; listening to garbage teen pop music in a men’s fashion store (dude, just play the Stones); really shitty beer; people that tell you how great that pizza place is when it, in fact, really sucks; Canadian hockey announcers during the Olympics (Canadian hockey announcers in general); hearing the same Rush song on the radio until the day I die; and the list goes on.
Going off on these minor inconveniences may seem like a pointless endeavor, but as long as it’s entertaining, potentially even bordering on endearing, then I think I’ve done my job.
I’m actually a pretty content guy for being such a miserable son of a bitch.
Damn it, did it again. One of these days I’ll get my shit together with this whole writing thing, but until then I’m going to have to cram 2 weeks into 1000 words.
Avalanche Training
I’m sure my title is a bit confusing, so I’ll clarify…I did not get caught in an avalanche. I suppose that if I continue on the path I have created for myself, I will probably be writing about myself and a future avalanche, but for now I have nothing. What I have been doing however, should hopefully save my life and/or someone else’s life if said avalanche does occur, so I got that going for me…which is nice. At the beginning of week six I partook in an Avalanche Safety Training course, and learned the basics of how to identify Avalanche Terrain, what to do if you are caught in an avalanche, and how to properly search, locate and rescue someone buried underneath and avalanche. It snowed about a meter on the second day of the course, so after we got “lost” for an hour or two in the morning, we rejoined our group for lots of digging in the snow and by the end of the day had our certificates. They literally mean nothing, but hey, so does that diploma I have buried in my basement somewhere…only difference is this one was way cheaper. The one thing I learned? Never go out into the backcountry with morons, because if you get buried, than your screwed. In all seriousness, it was a rather enlightening few days, and of course I am absolutely excited to further immerse myself more and more into these types of situations with people I can trust to learn from.
A little fun during Avalanche Training….
Morons
Speaking of morons, I got to witness a riveting scene involving an asshole father, what I perceived to be his small children, and I am assuming his wife. Up on the top of the Blackcomb Glacier chair is a lovely little hike over into the back bowls called Spanky’s Ladder. It is a frequently patrolled avalanche area and, of course, a double black. On our last run of the day we decided to head up there as the visibility was decent and the snow was still ever so plush. Now, as you can imagine this little run isn’t for any sort of beginning skier, so you may be wondering why this guy was taking up his family when he should have been finding them a way back to the lodge. Now, the climb into Spanky’s is on a narrow ledge, with a pretty decent incline on the side. The wife lost her head, had taken her skies off and decided to try and slide down on her keister. What’s more, her daughter, sans skies, had decided to follow her. So now we have two people, without a proper mode of egress, on a 50 degree slope, screaming at each other….to make matters even more entertaining for this guy, the gentleman decides to tell his wife to shut up, which of course gets her Irish going, and a torrent of profanities unleash. Naturally, the guy decides to counter by throwing the skies in his hands down at his wife, a set of 3 in all, spearing the surface around her. Awesome. In the words of Bill Burr, “Fuck it, she picked him.” One of us did manage to help out one of the younger boys by keeping him on the path, and having him walk the traverse line instead of joining his mother and sister, so some good came of it at least. The last thing we heard as we made our way past them was the 7 year old screaming, “That’s what I’m fucking doing you moron!!!” She said that to her mother. Yeah, I can’t wait to get married….
Speaking of bad parenting, great example of what not to do during Apres….of course, my Old Man left me and my sister in the car for a hour and a half in 75 degree heat, and I turned out fine. This is in a bar, by the way.
Trek America
Now I suppose some people are wondering how the hell I’m spending all this time crushing powder runs and dealing with poor role models without any form of income. Well, savings, but even as we speak my bank account is looking rather forlorn. I had planned on this trip draining my fishing funds rather quickly, so naturally I had to have a plan, right? Well, the night I watched the Bruins get absolutely hammered by the Red Wings, I ran into my buddy who was also getting hammered at the Joe, although probably enjoying it much more than big Z (He’s a Bruin, look it up). I met this kid two years ago while traveling to New Zealand, and at the time he was working for a company called Trek America, an American based Tour company that specializes in cross country trips around the United States. I decided to put this option in my back pocket, as at the time I was still in full on travel mode, but once I was back in the States I decided that it was time to pursue this particular endeavor. So, after nailing a crucial phone interview, I headed to San Francisco to go through the final process, and am pleased to say that on April 7th I will be heading down to beautiful Santa Rosa California to start my job as a Team Leader for Peak Adventure Travel. I’ll be on the road for 6 months, showing off this great country and adding another crucial step in the master plan. For the first time in my life, I actually might have found a job that will keep me coming back, and that is a pretty exciting prospect
San Francisco skyline, preinterview. It snowed two feet while I was gone for 3 days….figures.
Olympics
Ah, yes…the Olympics….how shall I put this? Well, after a stunning start against Slovakia, I watched our boys put forth a heroic effort against Russia, stomp out Slovania, and move in decisive fasion into the the semi’s after cruising past the Czech Republic. Finally, the moment I have been dreaming of ever since watching that God Damn Golden goal in my ex’s sisters basement had arrived. I had strategically positioned myself in Canada for this glorious retribution for both our boys and girls of USA hockey, so confident that this year would be the year that we would overcome our neighbors to the north and take the only thing they really care about, other than there shitty healthcare system (wait, I think we did take that one…). More to the point, there I sat stunned as I watched the ladies blow a 2 goal lead, forced into an overtime where I witnessed the most egregious act of poor officiating I have ever seen. A slash to the goaltender!? When has tapping at the covered puck before the whistle ever been called a penalty? At what moment does a girl tripping over her own two feet constitute a crosscheck? Well, after allowing Canada breath, the hockey God’s decided that it once again wasn’t meant to be, and a powerplay goal set up a disastrous omen for the men’s. Our offensive juggernaut was shut down completely by the most fantastic defensive play I’ve ever seen, and then put down by the Finns. I’ve seen Patrick Kane make Tuukka Rask look silly on countless occasions; ironically the one time I am praying he buries it he doesn’t. And now here I am, in Canada, one of the only Americans who even cares about hockey, having to deal with the backlash. Bummer….
Summary
There is a lot to be thankful for this week. One, that I am currently experiencing some of the best snow I’ve ever been in. Two, that I am not married. Three, that I am currently employed in a job I actually will not only enjoy, but thrive in. And finally….well, at least I’m not Russian, because that would really suck. Happy powder days!
One cool afternoon in early May of 2010, this gentleman made his decision to be a responsible, successful college graduate, move to the twin cities, get an apartment, start a shiny new job with a middling telecommunications firm, and essentially settle into the mediocrity of everyday life. Not that that’s a bad thing, happiness comes in different forms for different people, but for me that was the equivalent of sitting in the DMV holding ticket number 11 when the screen is flashing number 23. Clearly, I had some issues, but thankfully it only took me a year and half to realize that; some people take as long as I’ve been alive to figure it out, and by then the move to backtrack is tough. Real tough. But that’s what I had to do to figure things out; step back and really look at life and figure out what my path was. I chucked all that garbage I bought to decorate my apartment, loaded up the folks’ van with more garbage that I eventually ended up throwing out, (although at the time I thought keeping my kitchen utensils was a wise move), and bought a one way plane ticket to New Zealand. After two years of traveling and much soul searching and beer drinking (to be honest, the beer drinking wasn’t that large of a role), I ended up with a goal of getting my certifications as a snowboard instructor. It seems small, minuscule, a bit of an underachievement (my dad, God bless his unyielding support in all this, still hasn’t fully wrapped his head around it I don’t think. To be fair, he did co-sign all my student loans, so I get it), but I’ve got a plan. Some know it, some don’t, but for those who don’t just know that this is a small stepping stone in my quest to move forward in life.
I guess the point I’m trying to make in all of this is that I really had to take a step back in life, and that’s scary, but I like to look at it a different way. I don’t really think of it as wasting two years of my life to get back on track, but I see it as a brand new path, with a nice two years of gathering some incredible stories along the way. Now that I’m on this path, I don’t feel like I’ve wasted anything, but I finally feel like I’ve got a real goal, a vision. Not that vision everyone has when the leave college, you know the one; get a nice, fancy, successful, well paying office job; sign big, important clients; find a nice apartment somewhere in the city; get hitched to a girl that will enhance the gene pool,; get a nice, big house and fill it with shit you’ll never use; brag about your mediocre kids; and then die on a golf course somewhere. No, I actually feel like I have a plan, a goal, something I can aspire to that I decided on, not something that was decided for me. See, my old man worked his balls off getting to where he got, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make sure I utilize every single opportunity he’s given me by swinging for the fences. Even if I strike out, at least I gave it a shot.
So with that, last week I earned my Canadian’s Association of Snowboard Instructors Level 1 Certification. Definitely a far cry from my Bachelors Degree, which is currently gathering dust somewhere in my parents house, but again, I don’t want to look at is as backtracking. I just look at it as something I should have already had, it just took me a bit longer to figure out what I wanted in life.
All the Alltracks people holding up their certificates. Big congratulations to everyone in there, can’t wait to keep it up!
This isn’t the end of the road, not by a long shot. Some of the instructors I have been working with take years and years to reach their level 4, and even after that they can still get more and more qualifications. I think when a lot of people hear what I am doing, they tend to look down on it. I think in a way I will always feel that, but after learning from some of the best riders in Canada, people who have dedicated their profession to being the best, I know that this isn’t easy. This isn’t avoiding real life, this is simply doing something that brings you joy and mastering it. It pays shit. It gains little respect. But at the end of the day, when your standing on top of that mountain looking down at a line you’ve been staring at for a month, who cares what anyone thinks. You’re home.
The Level 2 is gold plated I heard….
So now what? Well, snow in the forecast, so it’s time to play!! Finally! The white powder we’ve all been craving like…well…white powder, is on it’s way! Shoulder is much better, emotions are high, let’s get it going!!
“How did you ever fit into those smashing tights again, Peter?”
At University, all the female athletes would walk into the cafeteria with both knees and shoulders wrapped up…we always thought it was absolutely hilarious, so naturally I had to give it a shot while I cooked breakfast. Do you really need to ice your knees as your walking around on them? Give me a fucking break…anyway, big thanks to Canada’s healthcare system, imagine what would have happened if I had to look after this on my own.
When I first moved out to New Zealand, I was 23 years old. After 4 years of college and nearly two years of working out of an office, I really had forgotten what it was like to be a kid. I mean, in college I was a moron up until the middle of my junior year, but for the most part I had stopped being a kid in the “I’m going to run around in the middle of the yard for the f*ck of it” kind of way. I was a hockey player, I was a skateboarder, and I was a snowboarder, and one by one those things slowly got buried underneath the avalanche that is real life. So, when I got to New Zealand in the summer, realizing that for the first time in 4 years was I not only going to lace up the skates for another season, but was also going to spend my first real winter in a ski town, I decided to go for the trifecta. I decided that it was time to officially unretire all three endeavors, and without hesitation purchased a skateboard, something I had not done since high school. I was finally a kid again….
….and then I fell. Hard. And the realization occurred to me that I don’t bounce like I used to. I also realized that I hadn’t been on a skateboard in 5 years, and furthermore had really just been sitting on the couch the last 4….thankfully, because of New Zealand’s phenomenal Accident Compensation Corporation, a trip to the doctor and some Physiotherapy only cost me about 25 bucks. For a pretty anti-government care guy, I was very impressed. It seemed that in New Zealand at least, I could remain being a kid without much worry.
Fast forward to last Monday, and once again my inner child raised his unrealistic head, and decided to ignore the fact that I really hadn’t flown through the air since I was 17. I once again went from sitting to sprinting, and took a tumble directly onto my collarbone, which if you’ve been paying attention, has been this years favorite injury. Instantly, I knew something was askew, and although it hurt like hell, I decided to wait it out. I was nervous though, because while it wasn’t the worst pain in the world, I had seen Chris break his, and he rode out of it too. In fact he almost didn’t go to the ER, and come to find out he had a break that needed surgery. I knew mine wasn’t that severe, but it definitely gave me an uneasy feeling that manageable pain might not necessarily mean anything. After much coaxing from both roommates (one of whom was residing in a hospital bed in the UK), and a painful night sleep, I decided that while I took the next day off, I’d go to the ER and get it checked out. Hell, I paid good money for travel insurance, why not use it right?
Well, here is where things get interesting. Canada, as you know, has a free health system (It’s not free, but every moron back home thinks it is, so I might as well just join the band) so the market for privatized healthcare is slim. So naturally, I went with travel insurance, making sure that my coverage included snowboarding (most don’t, oddly enough) and taking out enough insurance to take care of any minor hospital bills, I felt secure. Now, before I sound like a jackass, let me explain how health insurance works in the states (well, good health insurance). I rock up to the doctors office that is in my network, I get my shit taken care of, I flash them my insurance card, they bill my insurance company, I pay a 20 dollar co-pay, then I go sell telecom (this was my experience in a real-person job). Having never actually used travel insurance I’d purchased (no snow in Australia) I assumed this is how things worked everywhere.
Unfortunately for this guy, that is not how things work. No, see, the hospitals in Canada don’t take insurance. The hospitals will bill you, and then you will have to make the claim to get the money…I assumed this was how things like homeowner’s insurance worked, some car insurance, but in my very one dimensional experience of health care, this is how it most definitely didn’t work. You see, I have some money for my deductible, but as most of my money is tied up in the Australian Government at the moment, I was definitely not prepared for a 1500 dollar hospital bill. Oh, and by the way, back home with no insurance I probably could have worked out a nice little cash deal with the doctor before Obamacare was instituted, but since their is no private network here, that’s not happening. It’s the price on the sheet, no negotiation. After a call to my insurance company, they tell me I am covered, and that they are happy to receive a call from the doctor to clear me. I tell them that the doctor will not make a call to them, but said they would accept a call from my insurance company, which, you guessed it, they don’t do. The insurance company also tells me that I can show them my card, and they can bill the insurance directly, so deal done, right? Wrong. Canada health clinics won’t bill insurance companies outside of Canada, because, and I quote, “We can never get payments from insurance companies.” Awesome, so because you guys haven’t figured out your Accounts Receivables, I get screwed? Sure, a couple x rays and some physio is manageable, but my coverage is up to $50,000, what if I rack up half of that, would you like me to mortgage the house I don’t own to cover that while the insurance companies sort it out with me? Do I have the black card? No, I’m fucked, I have to go on a payment plan and do my little dance all because you don’t want the extra paperwork.
So, while I sit and ponder this conundrum I am left with two choices. I can either A) just bend over and take it, get on a payment plan, find out that I have at worst a fractured collarbone that doesn’t need surgery, and regardless of any of this still take my snowboarding course because I spent my life savings on it and I need to finish what I started or B) I can suck it up, ice it, google it, and take my snowboarding course because I spent my life savings on it and I need to finish what I started. Well, you can’t cast a broken collarbone, and knowing I broke it ( if it’s even broken) isn’t going to change anything, so fuck it, let’s wait a few days and turn it over to Dr. Nick.
Now, Dr. Nick may not have a real medical degree, Dr. Nick decided to underachieve and get a business management degree with a music minor. But Dr. Nick is still highly intelligent, and after two days of rest Dr. Nick’s prognosis is leaning further and further towards a ligament issue (thank god)….now Dr. Nick is aware that if he does fall on it again, the bone isn’t going to pop through the skin, so that’s all good. That being said, Dr. Nick needs to find out what exactly the lump on his shoulder is, if it isn’t a broken bone. Finally, after a bit more research, BOOM, a self diagnosis of a Grade II AC Sprain/Tear, commonly known as a separated shoulder. Apparently, all those glasses of milk in my youth came in handy, and my ligaments gave out before the collarbone did….full recovery time about 3 to 4 weeks, but I don’t have time for that crap, so just don’t fall on it again and we’ll be fine.
So, it seems like it all worked out. I saved myself a hefty medical bill, I didn’t fracture my collarbone, and I really only missed one day of classes. I’ll be taking my level 1 exam on Monday, and after that I will be halfway done with this course and on my way to bigger and better things….it’s all coming together. Let’s just hope that somewhere in there I can find a way to make some money, because I think they pay instructors in beer and food stamps, and I’m guessing hospitals don’t accept those either….
Well, after the third week of training, we are finally done tweaking our riding and are ready for a week of preparation before our level 1 CASI exam. As weeks one and two were led by Ross and Yuki, week three saw a bit of a change as the examiner for the November guys took over our group, not only delving into our riding a bit more, but giving us a very structured lesson plan, giving us more of an idea of the teaching methods that we will be putting into practice during week 4. The 2 biggest benefits of the sudden change of instructors are being able to see 3 very different styles of riding, and also getting a fresh set of eyes on what you are doing right, and what you can improve on. During the first day of riding, Paul immediately spotted that something was wrong with my binding setup and lack of knee bend, made apparent by the awful chattering my board was doing while carving heelside. Now, imagine you have been riding with a certain stance for 13 years. Even then, when you only really board one week out of the year, you miss certain amounts of information that can really help you as a rider. For me, my heelback on the binding ( the part that your ankle rests against ) was sitting straight with no angle. Upon seeing this, Paul, instead of tweaking it a setting or two to ease me into it, cranked that son of a bitch about 4 settings in, probably a good 35 degree difference. It felt like he jammed a piece of wood underneath my heals, but that heelside turn I was having trouble with??? Yeah, that got fixed fast….my right foot had fallen asleep in the process, but comfort is overrated.
Enjoying one of the last days of some fresh snow at the top of Coulier Extreme. I’ll be on top of this guy all day once we get some snow.
After that little tweak to my setup, we jumped into something that I hadn’t really done since I was 16, and that was to make a little trip into the terrain park. That was the age that I stopped bouncing after being hurled through the air, so naturally realizing that I was probably going to kill myself, I gave that up in search of the elusive powder runs. Well, seeing as how there is no powder, and according to the weather forecast won’t be for quite some time, seems like now is a good a time as any to get back into it. I’ve spent the last few days getting a little more solid, getting comfortable with spinning in the air again, and just trying to go back to the days where I would spend 7 hours at Cannonsburg Ski Resort, just hitting jumps all day until the last lift closed. I don’t think that’ll happen, but I have to admit that it feels great really be enjoying life again….
Week 3 was also the last day of my good friend Chris Dennis, as he had a date with misfortune, slamming his 6 foot 4 inch frame onto a sheet of ice at some dangerous speeds, ultimately separating his collarbone by a good inch. We spent the last night out to dinner with about 10 other group members, and in a haze of lager and some pretty intense painkillers, he said his goodbyes. An unfortunate thing really, but he said something that stuck with me, and I’ll paraphrase. ” The way I look at it, I just spent a 2 week holiday at a resort I’ve always wanted to go to. That’s the longest ski trip I’ve ever been on, and now I can say I’ve boarded Whistler.” I guess it’s all how you look at things. Hopefully he recovers quick and can make it to his next destination, South America, with that goofy grin on his face.
Safe travels good buddy!
That’s all for now, but I’ll give a bit of a lead in for next week, things might have taken an unexpected turn at the beginning of week 4. Let’s see how this plays out.
thedriftingfool 