Calabogie…More like, Cala-booger, amirite?

So. Last weekend, in my never ending pursuit to not sit down and die in my swivelling office chair, I decided to pretend I was 15 again, and try to go snowboarding not to break my neck whilst hauling ass down a tiny mountain in snow pants. The only catch was we had to listen to kind/old/out of touch gentleman try to sell us a time-share at Calabogie Lodge (He got an A for effort on that one)

We packed the car full clothes, and our bellies full of Timbits (a quintessential part of any Canadian road trip) and headed off.  Things started off all fun, Until…

Not so fun.  For future reference, when you see a bunch of transports all getting off at the same exit, follow them.  They know what they’re doing.

We were stuck in this for about the length of time it takes to listen to the entire Fugazi discography (Which is apparently 3 hours, FYI)

Eventually we got moving again, and made it to Lanark Country, God’s country.

My first ride down the mountain was a gong show.  I haven’t actually snowboarded since a class trip in grade 9.  So I basically rode down  on my butt (which looks as sweet in snow pants as it does in jeans)  I also sprained a wrist, said ‘Fuck This!’ in front of way too many children, and accidentally punched myself in the heart.

Patio beers were urgently needed.

Once that was sorted out, I finally made back up and down the mountain several times, and ended up being all right.  But I was sore, and more beers were needed.

Clearly, I couldn’t get out of  my 12 layers of clothing fast enough.  All in all, a productive afternoon

My conclusion? At 30, I still hate all the same things about snowboarding that I did at 15.  You need to be ‘of means’  to do it often and get any good at it.  Plus, it’s fucking cold.  For me, snowboarding was always just a way to stay on a board throughout the winter until I could skateboard again.  Once I got a license and could drive places, that was the end of Snowboarding for me.  You spend a lot of time driving just to get to a mountain. Then there’s waiting in line for the lift, all for 30 seconds of excitement (There’s a sex joke there, but I’m not going to say it)  Except now I guess, there’s beer.

So basically, drinking.  I like drinking.

…and on a side note, how douchey are those skiers that do tricks?

tl;dr – We sat in a car for 15 hours so we could ride down a hill a few times.