By manipulating some work travel, I was able to score one day at Whistler. It looked a bit worrisome when at 5:30 in the morning all the elevators at the hotel were shot and I was on the 18th floor with a host of luggage. Some very janitorial looking lad huffed up the stairs, pressed a bunch of buttons, and things resolved without throwing all my crap down the stairwell.

Sadly my above fogline laps were ended by the quick moving slop, just as I was about to explore the Symphony area. Nothing like full on vertigo riding, not knowing what is coming at you or where you are going.

The fog was still thick on the top after lunch, so I decided to check out the parks on Blackcomb. A fully groomed boarder cross trail, yes I like that, a fifteen foot perfectly cut pipe, that's nice as well, a couple of large hips, sweet, and finally the massive 22 foot superpipe. I felt a little bit bad about coming all the way to the legendary Whistler and ending up lapping the park, but it was too damn much fun to stop. Plus the conditions were pretty crappy everywhere else.

Last year the 22 ft pipe at Killington ate my lunch and left me thinking that perhaps I was too old for such things. I believe I took 8 runs through the two Blackcomb pipes and by the end was getting far enough out for full tweaks. My final hit in the 22 footer, I grabbed lien on the frontside wall and went what felt like a long way out. It was probably 2 ft, but it felt fucking awesome. That is the feeling that makes transition riding so great. I felt particularly proud when the group of Japanese tourists gawking at the bottom nodded and smiled as I rode by. Of course, they may have been nodding after someone stated that fat old guys should not ride superpipes. I choose to not believe that interpretation.