"Some man live his life for profits alone, that very same man, he lives his life all alone.
Well any road to life yes it goes up and down, doesn't really matter as long the music goes on." - Slightly Stoopid

The vast majority of us roll through the years caught in the current of the status quo. We expend our energy and motivation chasing a dream that may not necessarily align with our true desires. Inevitably the balance of life shifts in the wrong direction, leaving us feeling helpless and trapped.

I was sitting in Reagan eating lunch on my way to California, the waitress knew me from my countless previous trips, two gentlemen argued the details of their powerpoint presentation to my left as I busily punched out work emails; this was not how it was meant to be, things would change.

I spent another monotonous week in Irvine, eagerly awaiting the weekend and the beginning of my self defined snowboard bender. Friday arrived not a second too early, the southern cali scene had worn my resolve to a tattered mess.

It was a quick flight from Irvine to Denver complete with an appropriate sunset as we flew high above the canyons of the West. I landed in Jackson at around 9:30 pm, greeted by an old rally friend and a few beautiful new boards courtesy of the fine folks at Bataleon. Pat and I spent a whole lot of time in the comfy confines of a Ford Fiestaivus, driving away from the Kazakhstan border alone in the Ford still ranks as one of the more heart wrenching moments I have endured. With good friends, you can pick up instantaneously as if no time has past, it is this way with Pat. He has found his place in this world, Jackson really is his town. I drifted off to sleep dreaming of steeps of Jackson Hole and the opportunity to catch up with two of my better friends.

It was really cold, digit freezing cold, and both Pat and myself agreed on sleep over freezing. By the time we sorted the morning out, paid to park at the mountain, and located the ticket room, it was already 11:30. Chowder ferrets never get to the mountain early. We waited for the midday semi reasonable ticket price. Once all this was sorted, Pat had to leave for the airport to pick up Carrie.

I was left with Jackson Hole to myself. I last rode JH in 99 while on an epic snowboarding trip with my good friend, Vinnie. While the real estate at the base has changed significantly, the terrain above is every bit as amazing as it stood in my memory. I made my way to the summit via three separate lifts. Buckled up, ready to roll, I quickly located my first decision of idiocy. I had found my spot on the new deck and was starting to push it as some very appealing trees enticed me in. Next thing I know I am sitting a top a swell little chute freshly covered in a blanket of goodness.

I could see the line that I wanted, pointed it, and rapidly descended. A rush of adrenaline overtook me as I ran out onto the trail below. Unfortunately, the descent was not without its consequences as the fresh board found some of Jackson's finest rocks. Though damage was light, I learned the lesson and kept it to the trails for my and the board's safety. After a few scouting cruisers, I located a perfect run that I could hit fairly untouched powder along the edge of the trail all the way down. By 3:30 my legs were smoke and I called it.

I was supposed to meet up with Pat at 4, so I relaxed it up in Nick's enjoying a PBR and the Dead. I think I might become a Deadhead, they seem to make me less angry. At approximately 4ish, the slut goggle wandered by the window, signaling Pat's arrival.

Pat and I met up for a few tall boys on the hill before rolling back to his pad to awake Carrie. We did our best to drink it white cruising the Jackson scene.


The next morning came far too early as I awoke with a throbbing head. I dropped Pat off for his day of piloting the Yellowstone Snowcoach and Carrie and I set off for Grand Targhee in the baloney skins mobile. Since Pat's rig rolls slicks through the winter, the trip over TeTon Pass was fun.

Targhee sits about an hour's drive from Jackson nestled into its own little snow nook. I had a hot dog and a Rockstar upon arriving while Carrie screwed up her binders some more. I was instantly stoked on the mountain, it has such an authentic feel and people seemed honestly nice and I got a hot dog. This was to be a good day.

I have long since dismissed the whole "no friends on a powder day" mantra. I have been lucky enough in my life to ride some of the world's most epic terrain and powder. And none of it compares to sharing a good day with good friends. Carrie and I almost instantly found the lift that would define our day. Snow so light, trees so well spaced, crowds so small, damn I love snowboarding. We rode until our legs started to fail, calling it a day with one last run through the Aspens. The Targheeling Unlimited had rescued me from the monotony of work and returned the stoke of snowboarding and friendship alike.

While I have left Jackson, Pat, and Carrie behind on my way back to VT, I am staying aboard The Targheeling Unlimited. There shall be a quick stop in VT to pick up my lovely wife for a few days of demolition in the old haunts of North Conway. It is good to be back.

BIG thanks to Pat for everything, I got your back in VT anytime.

Remember KRS ONE said "try keeping it real and you should try keeping it right."

7YW0708 - Glad to Ride - Seth