“We had just ridden a long couloir in blower powder next to this line on a slightly different aspect. With sun hitting this line, by the time Jeremy got to the top, it had mostly softened to perfect corn. It’s amazing when you can ride two beautiful couloirs in succession and experience such great conditions with totally distinct snow types.” Photo: Ming Poon Words Jeremy Jones H ome ranges are the great teachers. Some lessons are in your face—rocks hurt, stay away from cornices, respect avalanche conditions—but some are more subtle and take years to learn. They are life les-sons that only come with time spent in one place. Learning to leave your ego at the trail-head, knowing that humility is the best tool, and being present in the moment are all essen-tial in order to pick up the faint signs. Some lessons leave their mark—a season-ending injury or a friend who didn’t make it home. cals are also teachers. They pass down lessons learned from generation to generation: Where the skintrack should go, what slide paths to avoid, where to find a good takeoff and landing. There will always be more to learn and more lines to ride, even in my own backyard. The Sierra has given me strength, knowledge and the perspective it takes to travel the world and ride big mountains. It is where I mull over possibilities and conceive my plans. In the winter of 2016/17, on the heels of a four-year drought, the Sierra saw one of its biggest seasons on record. More than 700 inches of snow fell at many of the Tahoe resorts. I stayed home for a full sea-son for the first time in over a decade—aside from two days of riding lifts in Colorado during the SIA trade show, I spent the whole season in the Sierra with a diverse crew. The following are vignettes from a season in my home range. The home range is where breakthroughs happen alongside beat-downs. It is also a place of worship. A place I go to heal over a lost friend, to work out life’s biggest questions. The Sierra is where I ride 80 percent of the time. At 450 miles long, it is 15 times the size of the Tetons. And thanks to early pio-neers such as John Muir and Norman Clyde, it is home to one of the longest untouched wilderness areas in the lower 48, stretching south from Lake Tahoe almost to Bakersfield, CA. It is where I have reached some of my highest highs, riding that perfect line, standing on a mountaintop, watching the sunrise. It was love at first sight. The 450 inches of annual snow, the sunny days, the lift-serviced access to technical terrain. But true love and devotion take more than a few bottomless days lapping Squaw Valley’s KT-22 chair. True love comes with time. While the range is the master, the lo-042 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 15.3 : Page 42
