by Cordon Baesel
Is he or she the streak you saw bombing the gates?
Could it be the backcountry pioneer, quietly prepared and aware?
What about the carve master leaving pencil-thin trenches in the corduroy?
The alpine rider resides in all of the above. Respect and control, mixed with a desire for the edge, characterize the alpine rider.
But alpine riders I’m thinking of are practically strung out on the edge. Yearning eyes always searching down the line, planning and visualizing several carves ahead. Looking for that familiar bank to carve a cranking, roundhouse cutback. Searching for the extra gravity boost from a bottom turn deep in the pit of the white wall unfolding against the trees. Shadowing the trenches dug by a brother in carving, already a hundred meters down the line. All to share the buzz of committed turns with a few friends and that “tranquilo” feeling from radical but relaxed riding.
The alpine riders I am thinking of are probably best defined by attitude, rather than equipment or riding style. Sure, they wear hard boots and plates. But they might ride both a carving tool and a freeride stick. Charge corduroy and couloirs, gates and trees, trails and chutes. It doesn’t matter. You can find them at mom and pop hills, as well as the mega resorts. Wherever riding is its own reward and claiming is for clowns.
These alpine riders are in it for the total experience: preparation, positioning, dedication, and the soul-enriching exhilaration of great riding. Trying to find a little soul before its sold at retail prices at the concept shop inside the specialty department at the chain store. Feeding the stoke by pioneering new terrain, different riding styles, and new approaches to an old game. Varying their equipment combinations, tinkering with set-ups, thinking outside the traditional box of what hard boot riding is all about.
All in a quest to live those moments, as Drew Kampion put in a long ago Surfing Magazine photo annual, “When nothing else matters.” To relish the sensation of riding on the edge, only a small band of Rockwell steel marking the boundary between euphoria and disaster. Searching for the land between control and chaos, where hardware, skill, and knowledge keep chaos (and G-forces) at bay for a stolen moment. That moment is the sidelong slingshot when you hit the mainline and rocket beyond the world of orderly categories. Then you’re a goner.
You’re hooked on the edge , and you are hooked for life. There ain’t no twelve step program to wean you off the edge. Living it, riding it, getting over it, they only make the crave stronger.
So the alpine rider is really about desire and commitment. If you really want it, you put yourself in position to go for it. But like chasing down waves on a big day, being in position is only half the battle. You have to commit to fulfill the desire. Peering over that edge, it’s easy to pull back. I oughta know, I have committed blindly at times, and backed out at others. But with the edge, you always know when you’ve committed and when you’ve only danced around it to get the badge of valor. And it’s always the things you don’t do that haunt you the most.
This periodic column is for riders that go for it where they find it, and match their desire with their commitment. Over the next few months, this small node of cyberworld will be a resource for any of you who are committed to the edge. Your feedback, flack, and smack are welcome. Commit to it and post a few thoughts. Consider what’s written about riding approaches, equipment, and terrain choices as fair game. There are so many variables to alpine riding with no right or wrong; let’s hear what you think.
—Cordon Baesel