Anyone who’s learned to ski in the last 5 decades has probably encountered a T-bar lift. I remember riding them as a kid and, to ease the boredom, weaving across the tracks until the ski patrol or lifties would yell. As a skier, this was probably the most innocuous way up the mountain. I can’t say I have a bad memory from a T-bar.
Fast forward to yesterday. That’s when I realized the T is not only a reference to the bar’s shape, but also stands for “trouble.” My friends convinced me of two things while we were skiing and boarding at Breckenridge.
1) The terrain in the North Bowl will be great but the only way there is up the T-bar.
2) As a snowboarder, I am almost guaranteed to wipe out on my first attempt at riding the T-bar.
This T-bar isn’t like the pokey ones that went up relatively gentle East Coast slopes. Not at all. The loading point is near the edge of the tree line, somewhere around 11,000 feet, the pitch is steep, and the lift takes a solid left about a third of the way up after the steepest pitch.
In order to watch the wipe out, my friends I insisted I go first. So, game face on, my pride ready to be swallowed, I kicked up to the lift, took the next bar from the liftie and off I went. To my disbelief, I did not wipe out in the first 30 seconds. The bar pulled on my left hip while my left hand pushed down on the opposite side (not unlike using a rudder to steer a boat) and my right hand held the main bar. Within a minute, my legs and arms started to burn, but I was still on track! Woo Hoo!
I was told to stay in the track and not steer. But, there wasn’t much of a track and I started drifting right. This was ok, until I came up on the next lift tower, which is also on the right. I tried to steer a little, but sudden movements weren’t easy, and I bounced off the (mercifully) padded tower. My back foot came off the board and for a second, a crash seemed imminent. But my board stayed straight in the barest hint of a track, my foot came down on the board, and my arms didn’t rip out of their sockets. Woo hoo again!
Then I started drifting right again, and soon – whump – I bounced off the next tower. But, I stayed on the board, made the steep pitch, made the turn, and then held on for five more minutes before unloading at the top. My arms were burning, my left palm nearly numb from pushing down on the opposite bar, and I was gasping for air. But I did it. I threw my arms up in victory. My friends laughed when they arrived because my encounters with the towers made for a good show.
Once I caught my breath, I strapped in, traversed to the middle of the North Bowl and then dropped in to some sweet sweet snow. I launched off of two five foot ledges, stuck my landings and then fell on my ass each time. I’d like to blame those falls on the altitude or maybe fatigue from riding the T-bar, but really they were more a result of joy, disbelief and panic. Joy and disbelief that I just landed a drop like that, poofed into nice soft powder and was still intact. Panic because I had no idea which way to go after landing. I learned earlier that morning that going right or left around any particular tree or group of trees can lead to very different outcomes – say between riding a smooth open snow field or shooting a narrow, scraped, partially open creek.
After that run, we soon split up. Legs nearly spent, Chris and Renee headed home, and their friend Kristen had to work. I took a short rest and then I spent the remainder of the afternoon cruising the soft groomers on Peak 10, proud that I survived the T-bar and happy to sit on a high speed quad after each run.