Everyone has the ski/snowboard friend they claim to be crazy, though in most cases they really mean "very bold". There's gutsy and then there's Jackie Chan-style abandon. I met such a dude at Brighton ski area in Utah on the last day of the big Outdoor retailer convention. This bloke looked to be in his mid-thirties, a snowboarder who most resembled "Louis", Rick Moranis' character from Ghostbusters. I had seen him fumble his way down the slopes a few times from the vantage of the lift. He was falling hard making basic turns, but always got back up. I had the fortune of sitting on the lift with him as a skier below nailed a perfect backflip off the biggest jump in the terrain park.

"Shoot man," he remarked on seeing the feat, "I'm gonna try that next time down!"

Sure ya will mister, sure ya will.

Much to my surprise, as I cruised down along the edge of the terrain park, I saw him perched on the top of the slope, eyeing the huge jump. Without a flicker of hesitation, he starts a wobbly dash for the ramp. A burst of guilty excitement swells in me, as I KNOW I'm about to see the real life version of the agony of defeat. I was certain he was going to bail at some point, but he just kept gaining speed. The faster he got, the less keen I was to see a three-stooges style disaster.

He got to the ramp and from my professional judgment, he made two critical errors.

1-Instead of trying to do a backflip, he actually went for a front flip. This may not have been intentional. And by "tried" I mean he "went forward with his head eventually where his snowboard should be and vice-versa".

2-Amazing as it may seem, he sort of stabilized himself in that prone, upside down position instead of actually landing on the snowboard. While I applaud his free-wheeling attitude, the human skull is best off at the highest point in a rotation upon landing.

Of course he didn't have a helmet.

Right when it looked like he was going to give himself the ultimate pile driver, he rotated just enough to land flat on his back with a sickening thud. He slid in a heap, a high friction blob of bones. He came to a stop motionless. For a few seconds, I swore he was dead--I could virtually see his battered soul ascending to the beyond. My vision was disrupted by an uninhibited WHHHOOOOWEEEE. After accounting for whatever functioning senses he may still have, the maniac got up nonchalantly and continued down the slope.

In the end we were both winners. I got to see a heinous accident without anyone getting hurt and the guy completed his flip, albeit in the wrong direction. Perhaps he was drunk, stoned, or simply crazy, but I admired his damn the torpedoes approach to snowboarding--as do the emergency room personnel who remain happily employed by fellows with such a mind set.

Ahoy from the Outdoor Retailer show in the heart of fabulous Salt Lake City. Hooked is here (with just about every major player in the industry) to sample the latest and greatest gear and to get tuned into the latest outdoor trends. Most of my colleagues are fun, determined, and full of ideas. They enjoy their lives and live fully. Many have a difficult time establishing a solid personal life; others revel in the institute of familyhood, raising their kids in the wild landscapes of the outdoors. It's a fascinating mix of people, almost as engaging as the products.

As for the gear itself, there's a lot of neat stuff on display. Technology continues to make things lighter, stronger, better. The tech geek in me is especially tuned into GPS, mapping, and beacon electronics. While I can't spill the beans, it's safe to say that the folks in charge of keeping us warm, dry, and happy in the elements are on top of their games.

One other note. Maybe it's just my eye, but this is a good looking crowd. That's not to say everyone here is a fox/stud. It's more that a lot of people look healthy, happy, and genuinely glad to be alive. They have the good look of a good life.

This winter will be my second year of snowboarding. At 29, I do my best to improve and enjoy it, but I feel like I'm getting started about ten years too late. I'm not the first person to echo this sentiment with an endeavor begun later in life (relatively speaking). I still have competitive flare and I'm mostly trying to better myself in relation to nothing but my perceived potential.

Yet, I think back to myself ten years ago. Mentally, I'm in a new place (for better or worse). Biologically, I'm refreshing blood cells slower and losing brain cells quicker. I'm getting over an injured nerve in my back and I'm conscious of my insurance benefits while on the slopes. This is a weird age because I'm still strong, balanced, and able but my life experience betrays the unbridled enthusiasm that was washed away in some far off tidal cleansing. And while I feel only slightly more mortal, I'm far more cerebral regarding the freedom snowboarding offers.

The flaw in this instance is not regret. I think new experiences should be a pattern in life, that excellence doesn't always involve mastery of one skill. For some, that drive and passion must be obeyed, and to that end I am envious. But to deny my curiosity where it seems outdated is a worse sin. Controlling my forays into the unknown seems to be the order of the day for this age, the vital skill to master.

I always love when my friends from the east coast are able to visit me out here in Colorado. My tenure in the Rocky Mountains is going on seven years and I've finally managed to explore enough to be a good guide for my guests. Perhaps my best act was going to Loveland ski area on a Tuesday, meaning there was literally no lift lines (well timed with the return to class for high school and college students). Add to that the 8 inches of powder that fell while were up there and it was the perfect Rocky Mountain Day. It almost seemed like I set it all up on purpose! And while I'd like to take credit for picking out the perfect day and destination, it is all part of the game out here in Colorado--which is why I love living here!

Austrian mountaineer Heinrich Harrer passed away this weekend, 93 amazing years old. His life was an astonishing journey, notable for its contrast in extremes. His roots are planted in Nazi occupied Austria, where young Harrer succumbed to party lines while focusing his energies into extreme climbing. He was amongst the first team to summit the vicious Eiger North Face and was a source of Nazi pride for the Third Reich. Later, he was imprisoned by the British in India during World War 2, where he languished for years until orchestrating an escape, fleeing into the high peaks. Eventually he made his way into the forbidden borders of Tibet, where he met and befriended a young Dalai Lama. His tale is told in the film Seven Years in Tibet, based on the book of the same title written by Harrer.

Harrer was a man who excelled in the mountains at a time when only the boldest climbers attempted serious routes. His young life was overshadowed by the dictatorship of Hitler and all the hatred therein; as a mature man he himself received enlightenment from the people of Tibet and grew to become a human rights activist. He lived out his days quietly, disproving to some degree the idea there are no old, bold mountaineers. His adventurous spirit is akin to that of Lowell Thomas, complete with daring escapes and incredible encounters. He compressed several lifetimes of adventure into those 93 years.

Happy 2006 to all of us! May the year ahead contain adventure galore!

I had the good fortune (relatively speaking) to be in Connecticut as winter storm Beverly dumped 16 inches of snow in my hometown. And it was that wet, heavy, good snowball making snow--it's a shame being almost 30, as you can probably get arrested for smacking the 12 year olds in the neighborhood in the noggin with a precision iceball. I also am a bit of an oddball in that I have always liked shoveling snow (and yes, I liked there for 24 years I was not just indulging in the novelty). I like how the heavy snow makes cars stealthy, muting the sound of their tires. Best of all, it's fun to rumble in the hills without fear of an avalanche! I think it was a great way to start the new year and hopefully an omen for things to come.

The original lyrics of the song Stille Nacht were written in German by Josef Mohr and the melody was composed by the Austrian headmaster Franz X. Gruber. The version of the melody that is generally sung today differs slightly (particularly in the final strain) from Gruber's original.

This here may be the best version of the song to date! Click here to give it a listen!