Trees, Nothing But Trees

Who said getting there was half the fun? Getting there was half the hassle. The fun began the day a local said: "How about a tree run?"

After all, Charlie spent the night at D.I.A.(Denver International Airport). I barely got out of St. Louis on a standby ticket. Chris and Liz were delayed in Chicago! Are we having fun yet?

My brother is waiting for me in Colorado Springs. God Bless my brother! Without him, we have no Jeep. Without his Jeep, we have no transportation to Winter Park!

I eventually make it to Colorado Springs. The next day we head to D.I.A. to pick up Charlie who looks like a guy, well, who looks like a guy who just spent the night at D.I.A. Once inside, we find out about Chris' and Liz's delay. Crap! We're losing daylight. So we entertain ourselves on Bloody Marys and arcade games until they arrive. You've got to love the 'Golden Tee.'

"The next day we head to D.I.A. to pick up Charlie who looks like a guy, well, who looks like a guy who just spent the night at D.I.A...."

Great! We're out of the airport! But we still have about a hour and a half to Winter Park. Make that two hours or more by the time we bought our lift tickets and beer at the front range. As we near Winter Park, the snow begins to fall. The Jeep gets quiet. This is the reason we came—snow. Perhaps everybody's mind is reeling about runs we've yet to take. Maybe they're thinking about previous runs down a mountain's face. The anticipation is killing me. I'm a little nervous. By snowboarding standards I'm a novice. In fact, the same goes for most in our group.

We spent our first day messing around the mountain attempting to sharpen what snowboarding skills we had. Day two would be different, much different.

After waking up to Charlie's fog horn-like snore, we begin gearing up for an early and hopefully long day on the mountain. Charlie stays behind. Chris, Jeff and I head out to hook up with Steve. Steve, a friend of Chris', is a local. He's a skier, but we won't hold that against him. After all, he's a very good skier who knows about all the hidden runs. Liz stays behind as well. The four of us head to the mountain.

Can you say Parsenn Bowl?! That's right. That's where it all began. Somewhere on top of that 12,060-foot mountain is a big can of whoop ass! We didn't know it yet, but that's what would make this trip special.

"Somewhere on top of that 12,060-foot mountain is a big can of whoop ass!..."

To be honest, despite the fact that Chris and I had been riding four days and Jeff two, our skill level was quite good. We were hitting some decent runs and carving some decent turns. Steve probably sensed this and decided it was time for more. "How about a tree run?" he asked.

"Sure!" To the top of Parsenn Bowl we went.

Steve took off like a horse out of a gate at the Kentucky Derby. The rest of us followed in his wake. We quickly found the trees. Where's the trail? There is no trail! We're making the trail! The turns were tight, very tight. Weaving and bobbing through pines and snow-covered branches. Crap!!! Someone's down in front of me. Miss him! Miss him!! Miss him!!! Watch the trees; #!!#?! I'm down. #!!#?! A tree well?!? I can't freakin' get up. Be careful, be careful, be careful. Get away from that tree well. Whew! Solid snow.

I'm up. Build up speed, build up speed, build up speed, turn. There's a tree, turn. There's another! Another! Another! Duck, there's a branch! Duck, there's another branch! Carve that turn baby. Sharp turns. Sharp baby! Baby!!! Watch out for the snow bank!!! Crap!!! I'm down.

" By now I'm thinking, this mountain air is thin, and I can't breath. Where's the freakin' oxygen?..."

By now I'm thinking, this mountain air is thin, and I can't breath. Where's the freakin' oxygen? I feel as though my lungs can't expand enough. No matter how hard they try they can't take in enough air. I unzip my jacket. I pull off my helmet. The Chicago Marathon was easier than this. I contain myself. It's time to continue. I have no idea how many more trees are out there. Feeling the burn in my legs by now, I get back up and proceed to weave my way through the pines. More weaving, bobbing, weaving, bobbing. Then finally, there's a straight stretch. I see a clearing. I see the groomed trail just beyond the clearing! We're at the end!! We've made it!!! Wait a second?!? What's Steve crawling out of? Why is he lying on the slope like he's exhausted? Where's Jeff? What?!?! Jeff's up to his waist in snow. What's going on? A hidden creek, I'm told. A creek bed, with no telling how many feet of fluffy snow on top. There's no way around it, except hiking back up the mountain. That doesn't sound like fun. I lie on my back and spread my arms and legs out wide and proceed to scoot my way across. Exhausting! Chris moves downstream a bit. I can't see him too well, but he seems to be making his way across alright.

And we did in fact make it across, Steve, Chris, Jeff and I (John), each of us forming similar but individual memories that all other trips should be measured by. We were challenged that day. We sharpened our skills.

Steve said let's do it again. And we did. Getting there was a hassle. But the fun began the day a local said, "how about a tree run?"

— Johnny W. Shelby, MountainZone.com Pubster