Finding My Feet…….the switch from skis to snowboard.

‘I have fallen so many times that i realised that falling is flying’   Tare Munzara

It was the late nineties when I first clipped myself onto a snowboard. I watched voyeuristically from a chair lift, skis dangling precariously as the languid board masters cruised down powdery slopes below. In total awe I would observe their style, speed and grace as their bodies absorbed the sugar white sheer mountain edges dropping in and out soft glistening bowls of snow. I wanted to be them! Skiing seemed dull in comparison, a leisure pursuit for the middle class elite. Boarding was sexy, it whispered rebellion in comparison to it’s uptight skiing cousin!

Endless peaks to explore….. Photo Isla Kammerling

So there I was strapped onto a tray slip-sliding noisily down a nursery slope! I could no longer compensate for a loss of balance and the inevitable fall by sending my skis in various directions to correct my body’s miscalculations. WHACK! My whole backside would take the impact of my every error, and there were a lot of errors! Hitting the mountain with the same parts of my body every time left bruise upon bruise upon bruise. But there was no going back now. This much pain had to be compensated with some reward even if it was the next year once I had healed/forgotten!

Photo Isla Kammerling

Once I had finally tamed the slippery beast beneath my feet the joy of board riding was simple unbridled pleasure. Muscle memory strengthening with every slide, turn and drop. Senses heightened as my board slipped, hovered and cut into the mountain. Every year I would scrape and save to get back on that board, returning to the pristine air, endless peaks and topaz blue skies. Twenty three years on and I sometimes wonder if a young defiant skier looks down from their alpine perch at me and my board descending ‘effortlessly’ beneath them and maybe, just maybe they will be converted too.