The best single snowboarding run ever.

So the reason my blogging has been sporadic at best is that it snowed 65 inches in 30 hours. This created two small hindrances. First, you cannot blog if you are snowboarding through feet of powder. Second, the storm knocked out the internet access at my hotel. Anyway, I thought I would fill you all in on the best snowboarding run I have ever had.

The day started with a decision to ride into the "out of bounds" area. Mike, Chandler, and I had all signed a standardized liability form, written in Spanish, and dare I say with questionable enforceability, on the very first run we made at the beginning of the week. Might I add, also, that this decision to go "off piste" is not to be taken lightly:

Nonetheless, we had ridden "off piste" a couple of times during the week, and now that the storm had subsided and the sun was shining, we were ready to go for it. In fact, I had never seen such an extreme combination of unbelievably deep, brand new snow and pure, clear sunshine. These were truly optimal snowboarding conditions.

We hired a guide yesterday for two reasons: He would know where to go and he would give us the opportunity to jump the long liftlines. We knew that yesterday was the first chance since the storm to access the most extreme limits, at the top of the Marte lift, that had been closed all week due to the storm and wind, and we wanted to make sure we could take full advantage of that access. Turned out, we got Marcos, the director of the ski and snowboard school, who not only knew everyone on the entire mountain, but also every great spot to take us. I felt fortunate that Marcos was willing to endure the fact that I was a snowboarder tagging along for the ride with him and my friends who were all on skis. I also felt fortunate that Marcos trusted and believed in us enough to take us on the adventure that follows.

Because we wanted to ride the Marte lift and go "off piste," Marcos and Tim, our other guide, demanded that we all wear helmets and radio beacons. Now, Mo should know that I wear a helmet whenever I ride my snowboard, mostly because I like to ride in the trees and I learned the hard way that tree branches are not your friends. This was additionally intimidating for us all, however, because Chandler and Ben King routinely forego this protection, and none of us had ever worn radio beacons. Each of us quietly wondered if we had bitten off more than we could chew. I mean, what are the radio beacons for?

So away we went; up 3 lifts and we stood at the edge of the world. Marcos quickly and incomprehensibly negotiated in Spanish with a sentinel guarding a roped-off area towards the right of the lift, and Mike, Chandler, Marcos, and I were off into the "off piste." Marcos said that we would have to hike a ways, which I was fine with.

The hike turned out to be twenty minutes of trudging through powder up to my knees at eleven thousand feet. Without poles, I did not have the ability to ride my snowboard during this hike, and the other three left me far enough behind that I lost sight of them. I had nothing to follow but their tracks. A couple of times I had to sit and rest, because the air was so thin and I was not used to this kind of hike, but I eventually rejoined the group.

The hike was worth it. The fee we paid Marcos was nothing and the exhausting hike was no hardship in comparison to the reward for our efforts. Marcos had led us far, far from where anyone had been, save three or four who had hiked up from the very bottom. What followed was a forty minute ride down beautiful, sunny slopes that were covered with three feet of powder.

I realized again why I love to snowboard. When the snow is deep and you are cruising down a steep slope you cannot think of anything but the activity below your feet. It is truly sublime. There is connection with the mountain and with the community of others who seek out this sport that is both physically demanding and, for lack of another word, fun.

Marcos had taken us down "Sombrero," a long and secluded run accessible only if you hike or know the right guy. When we got to the bottom, we took this picture of where we had been; unfortunately, it does not adequately capture the event:

Unfortunately, we are coming to the end of our time in Argentina. It has been a great group, and I will be sorry to continue on without Ben, Ben, and Chandler. On Sunday, everyone leaves from Buenos Aires: The Bens and Chandler travel back to the states, while Mike and I head to Peru. I´ll keep you posted.