Plan B

Plan B

What happens on a powder day when your ski boots are out of service? The answer is definitely not sleep in or cry into your cup of coffee at John Ward. No, it’s time for Plan B.

I rummage through our outdoor gear, sifting through tents, sleeping bags, and climbing gear, until at last, deep in the recesses of the closet, I find my long-forgotten snowboard boots. Cue Plan B.

Yes, I’m about to head to the dark side, a place I had long ago sworn off since I switched to backcountry skis many moons ago. It’s like riding a bike right? Once you’ve learned to board, you can’t un-learn it. So the story goes, at least.

Grabbing my partner’s spare board that was once destined for the garbage heap, we zip up to Whitewater to take advantage of another dumping.

I buckle up, catch the lift, and brace myself for an awkward dismount at the top. Swaying back and forth, I manage to keep it together and pull off a clean landing. Success!

Slowly ferrying along the cat track towards Canadian Belle, I’m instantly reminded of the screaming thigh torture on a board. No wonder I switched to skiing.

But when I swoop down onto a nearly untracked run, it all fades to white. Whoo-hoo! I lean back and surf as my snowboarding senses gradually kick in and I carve choppy but thrilling turns.

Our following runs are more of the same with fresh snow everywhere. Emboldened by my newfound boarding confidence, I dive into the trees where it’s even deeper. Too deep in fact. Flat spots plus too much powder equals kerplunk! I stop in my tracks, ensconced in snow. I summon my inner Herculean strength and pull myself out, panting, while my partner patiently waits for me at the lift on skis.

Five runs later and I’m gassed, my legs burning from trying to channel my once mediocre skills. Skiing feels like a leisurely glide down the hill compared to this.

So maybe it’s not quite like riding a bike after all. My visions of ripping effortless turns on a solid plank turned out to be more like cartwheels and faceplants. Either way, I have a newfound appreciation for those boarders who make it look like they’re ripping through buttery pow with ease.

Next time I’ll watch them from between my skis as I ride the chairlift, thankful that I wasn’t swayed to the other side.