There's
no reason to rush at Baldface. There's no one here but us . . . The
moment couldn't be more perfect. It's the ultimate last run after six
days of dream-worthy snowboarding.
The run is steep,
with trees clustered here and there, and Volkswagen-sized mutant snow
lumps that beg to be ollied off. There's nothing left to do but point
it. My speed builds and builds, the snow spraying off my board's tip.
It plasters my goggles, but I keep pushing, floating through the deep
fluff until I shift onto my heels and lay down my first, deep heel
carve. I open my mouth and howl like a rabid wolf: "Owoooo!" I've been
waiting all my life for a turn like this.
– "Welcome to Paradise", Winter 2004, Matt Houghton
