Opening Day: The Snow Journal Substack

Table of Contents:

1. The Wait

2. Opening Day

3. A New Season: Why I Started This Substack

4. The Snow Journal: What to Expect This Season

5. Passholder Benefits: Day Passes, Season Passes, and Subscriber Benefits

The Wait

I still get butterflies during the drive up to the mountain on opening day. The anticipation for snowboard season stays at a low simmer through the summer and early fall, but kicks into high gear just as the beauty of autumn begins to fade. When the bursts of yellow, orange, and crimson foliage on the horizon give way to dreary browns and bone-chilling winds - I know it’s almost time. The anticipation and restlessness continue to build as I wake up to frosted grass and spot the occasional floating snowflake, only to watch it melt after its wistful dance to the ground.

The moment snow blankets the ground without melting marks a new threshold of excitement – it's the unspoken signal that the season has truly begun. Today, with the first persistent snowfall, winter feels tangible. Although opening day is two weeks out, the sight of my white-covered deck and steadily falling flakes ignites a familiar thrill. In my younger, more ambitious years, when this day would find us, a ragtag crew armed with snowboards and shovels would meet at the nearest toboggan hill to sculpt makeshift lips onto stolen PVC tubes.

These days I’m more patient. I allow the white landscape I see out my window in the mornings to tease me for a couple of weeks. I let it build. The restless energy that two decades ago would have led to a construction materials heist is now channeled into meticulous snowboard maintenance or strength training. No longer do I desperately pull snowboarding toward me as early and quickly as possible. I allow the anticipation to marinate. I want to be sure that I am ready for snowboarding, and that snowboarding is ready for me.

Growing up, the date that opening day landed on felt a bit like a lottery. If temperatures and conditions were favorable, sometimes we could ride on Halloween. If we had the opposite fortune, opening day wouldn’t be until closer to Christmas. Today, except for the few locally owned resorts, most of the guesswork of when opening day will be has been removed from the equation. For me, it’s almost always the second last Thursday in November.

The oligopoly that has grown to dominate the modern ski/snowboard resort landscape in North America has shifted the requirements for opening day from when the snow is sufficient to when the demand is sufficient. My opening day is now beholden to Alterra Mountain Co. and its shareholders' interests (but that’s a rant for another post.)

But at least I know the date. With that, the anticipation goes from a simmer to a boil before giving way to the long-awaited moment of Opening Day.

Opening Day

Back in 2006, 'Ride a resort on opening day' made it to number 31 on my bucket list. I was in high school, and attending opening day then felt like a thrilling break from my commitments. Any fantasies of such were often thwarted by school, work, and needy girlfriends. The next year, however, I crossed it off, and it has become a sacred tradition ever since. Come what may - rain, shine, alone, or with friends - I'm there every opening and closing day, even if it means calling in sick or, in one instance, quitting my job.

When the day finally arrives, I’m beaming. The day has been booked off work for months, and all of a sudden I can wake up without hitting the snooze button. The carefully considered board for the day has been meticulously sharpened, waxed, and loaded in the car the night before. One final check on the weather, and I’m out the door before the sun has even risen.

My home resort rolls out the literal red carpet on the first day. The carpet is flanked by resort employees clapping and shaking noisemakers as you walk awkwardly between them toward the gondola. I just want to ride. The commotion does little to affect my excitement - boiling water can’t be ‘more boiled.’ Now I just want to get to the top.

The nine-minute gondola ride might as well be an eternity. I fidget, adjust my boots, align my goggles, and tug my zippers. I turn my head to look uphill. I see the chairlift towers stretch over a crest on the horizon. We’re still not even halfway. My anticipation rises in tandem with my elevation. A new season is here.

As the gondola approaches the peak, it rumbles over the last set of bull wheels and slows before detaching from the cable. I’m standing at the doors, impatiently waiting for them to open. The moment they do, I burst out of the gondola, grab my board off the rack, and walk toward the strap-in zone with a little bounce in my step. I’m alive again.

I drop my board on the snow and step my left foot into the baseplate. I tighten my heel and toe strap buckles until the clicks eventually slow, stall out, and I can feel the downward pressure from the top of my boot. Lifting my left foot up and in front of me, I kick my heel edge backward into the snow to create a ledge for the nose of my board to rest flat on. Once established, I step my right foot into its baseplate, bend down to reach the binding, and repeat the ritual.

I stand up straight, take in the view, and do my best to remember to breathe. I perform my ceremonial drop-in double clap, and point my board downhill into a new season. The thrill of Opening Day not only marks the start of a new season of snowboarding with endless possibilities but also symbolizes the beginning of this new venture: my Substack.

A New Season: Why I Started this Substack

Snowboarding was my first love. It remains my longest and most complex relationship with anything other than my parents. To say it’s a perfect relationship wouldn’t be accurate. I am not happy every time I snowboard. I am, however, in my purest form. My happiness, frustration, pain, or confidence I feel and demonstrate on my snowboard is the most unfiltered version of those emotions. I return from the mountain feeling better equipped to take on the world. Not from having escaped it, but by getting closer to who I am before returning to it.

From a young age, I knew I wanted to take pictures of snowboarding and to write about it. I kept journals of snowboard trips and was always the one with a camera. I attended university for Fine Arts in an attempt to build the skills I would need to get hired at the now fallen-from-grace magazines like Transworld, Snowboarder, or even Future Magazine. These magazines represented the peak of snowboard culture to me, and I wanted to be a part of telling the snowboarding story.

Today, I come full circle with that ambition. After taking a fifteen-year detour, I’ve returned to my original goal - to communicate my love of snowboarding with the tools at my disposal in the hopes that it will resonate with others. Snowboard culture has evolved dramatically since the magazine and Mack Dawg Film heyday. What it meant to be a snowboarder back then is different from what it means to me now.

On this Substack, I will explore how snowboarding put the pieces together to create the man I am today. I will explore how lessons learned on a snowboard were applied to areas of my life off the snowboard. I will also explore how ideas from outside snowboarding have influenced the evolution of how I approach and appreciate it.

Snowboarding has given me everything. It has pushed my capabilities, checked my ego, and instilled a mindset of progression deep in my brain stem. On my snowboard, I can prove things. I can prove commitment matters. I can prove attention to detail matters. I can prove that fear is a tool, not an adversary. Snowboarding is truth; it is reality. Through snowboarding, we can find a connection to all things. The particular is a gateway to the universal.

Snowboarding has been transformative, challenging my capabilities, keeping my ego in check, and fostering a relentless mindset of progression. On my board, I can prove to myself that commitment, attention to detail, and harnessing fear matter. In the pursuit of snowboarding, I've discovered a profound connection to the universal through the particular.

My journey through the world of snowboarding, filled with its highs and lows, shapes the stories and insights I plan to share in The Snow Journal. Let me give you a glimpse of what's coming up this season.

The Snow Journal: What to Expect This Season

This season, expect new content twice monthly: a short article around mid-month (5-10 minutes reading time) and a longer piece at month's end (30-45 minutes). Short form content, typically 1500-3000 words, includes pieces like “Why All Your Friends Stopped Snowboarding but You Can’t,” where I explore the fine line between passion and addiction in snowboarding. Upcoming topics include nocturnal snowboarding joys, contrasting mountain experiences, the art of snowboard maintenance, the industry's oligopoly dynamics, and life in a resort town. Your suggestions for new snowboarding-related themes are always welcome.

Alongside these short but insightful posts, The Snow Journal will also delve deeper with long form articles, offering a more comprehensive exploration of the snowboarding world and how it intersects with other aspects of life. Some of these topics include addiction, physical fitness, brain science, philosophy, performance-enhancing drugs, and more.

This is just the beginning of our journey together on The Snow Journal. I look forward to sharing these stories and hearing your thoughts and experiences in the world of snowboarding.

Passholder Benefits: Day Passes, Season Passes, and Subscriber Advantages

Welcome to The Snow Journal Substack. Whether you're a casual visitor or a dedicated snowboarding enthusiast, we have tailored options to suit your reading adventure.

Free Membership:

• As a Free Member, you're part of the Snow Journal community. Enjoy access to all our short form content, perfect for a quick read with your morning coffee or during a break. Plus, get a taste of our in-depth long form articles with access to the first third of each piece. It's a great way to stay updated and informed about the latest in snowboarding culture and insights.

Subscriber Membership:

• Dive deeper with a Subscriber Membership. For those who want the full Snow Journal experience, this tier offers complete access to all our content. This includes the entire range of short and long form articles, letting you immerse fully in the rich stories and comprehensive analyses that The Snow Journal offers. 

• Join the conversation in our exclusive discussion board, a space for subscribers to engage, debate, and share perspectives on the content. It's not just about reading; it's about being part of a community that shares your passion for snowboarding. 

• As a Subscriber, you'll also receive occasional behind-the-scenes content and insights from me, giving you a peek into the process and passions that fuel The Snow Journal.

Day Passes:

Curious about what the full Subscriber experience is like? Opt for a Day Pass. This one-day access pass lets you explore all our content without a long-term commitment. Perfect for those days when you have more time to dive into deeper reading or when a particular topic catches your eye. It's a great way to experience everything The Snow Journal offers on a day that works best for you.

Each tier of membership in The Snow Journal is designed to enhance your reading experience and deepen your connection with the snowboarding world. Choose the one that best suits your interests and be a part of this lifelong journey in snowboarding.

Enjoy the ride.