Mammoth Weekend

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket; it was Matt.

“Are you in the South Bay?”

I was not.

“If so you should go surf. It was the best Porto’s ever been. It reminded me of waves in Hawaii. They were breaking at a point – the sandbar’s are back. I caught the longest left and surfed it into the shore. When I caught the wave, people were clapping for me.”

And then you aired out right? Did a backflip? I told Matt I was happy that the waves were great, that his day was epic, and that I was at Mammoth in drizzly ice and turning on Sierra Cement.

I had expected snow, but this stuff was paste. A hardened paste actually. The ski patrol said the snow had a 20% water content and it would break your knees. I had spent the day in hopes that the higher elevations would hold powder. Not the case. I had retreated to the mini park and was hitting a line of 5 foot jumps, then a line of three 15 to 30 footers – no complaints there; that was fun. I tried to board slide a wet 3 foot diameter pole, looped out, and pinched a loaf. It had been awhile since I had really pinched a loaf; it still hurts like a bitch. My legs got tired, visibility dwindled, and my ass hurt. I headed for the condo at 1:40 pm.

I lounged in the hot tub talking to Rick. Rick was giving me some tips on surfing and was from San Diego. He had surfed all over the world and was telling me about waves that, in his words, “were better than doing ten chicks.” We decided to meet up under chair 22 tomorrow. Snow had started to fall.

Avalanche charges woke me up at 6 am. Still one hour to go. My hopes were high as I sunk into a half sleep. Today had potential.

7 am and I was up. Not much snow outside, but the occasional boom of avi charges rumbled in the condo. I got my gear ready, ate breakfast, rallied a few hung-over roomies, and drove to the mountain at 8:00 pm.

I was blown away – a foot to a foot and a half. Even yesterday’s paste had a positive effect – it remained soft under the new snow; it was bottomless. I charged, did a double log (the trees have about 5’ diameters) pillow line under the chair and headed up to 22.

I saw Rick. “Jeremy, Jeremy,” he yelled. I was about to strap and follow him, but he screamed, “no friends on a powder day!” and took off. Laughing, I dropped into the avalanche chutes. Around 11 I got my fish and lapped 22 alone until 3:30 PM.

Oh yeah, I called Matt back.