Post by ibex on Jan 24, 2009 18:52:39 GMT -5
A bit of backstory for most who don't know, in the tail end of my first season of windsurfing (last year) my friend Amanda sends me this link to a canadian website, that talks about this thing call "ice surfing" or "snowfering" where you basically ride some sort of sled/skiied contraption with a sail on snow and ice. Although we endeavored to build a couple of them, it was through a Rochester acquaintance (Greg B) I actually managed to get ahold of a really nice one specifically made to run on bare ice. It is about the size/shape of an ironing board, with skateboard trucks, and 2 pairs of thick metal skates.
So Amanda and I had planned on going xc skiing this morning, and in a benevolent moment she decided to throw the ice board, a 6.5 sail, mast/boom/etc into the car on the way to pick me up this morning to go to Hammond Hill. So the plan for skiing was to do "skating", which for those who don't know is this really cool, athletic form of skiing that is basically like high-speed ice skating on snow. The snow conditions were barely passable for skating, certainly not pristine, but the real deal breaker was the combined snow conditions, the howling wind, and the many hills.
So 30 minutes later we decide to pack it in and try out the ice board on the massive ice shelf on the S end of Cayuga Lake. When we get there and step out of the car, the wind was simply rocking... It felt like NNW 20-25 and I seriously questioned the "live to fight another day" side of trying to take out an ice board that neither of us had ever ridden (that has SUPER low resistance to sliding), with such a big sail, in big wind. We convince ourselves somehow that really its not *such* a bad idea, pull on every last inch of clothes that we each brought, and drag everything out of the car to rig up.
Now the ice at the south end of the lake has been through several freeze-thaw cycles, and is mostly made up of large bus-to-car sized sheets of bright white aerated ice, that have all broken apart, shifted a little through wind/wave action, and have refrozen in place with jagged black seams of clear ice joining the blocks back together. The entire works, is in the process of cracking again, with miniature crevasses 1/2 inch wide and hundreds of feet long traversing the jumbled set of miniature icebergs glued together and laced with black seams.
We move about 200yds into the lake and attach sail to ice board for the first time. Since we only had one board and one helmet between the two of us, we had to take turns and after a slightly skeptical/hesitant "who is going to try this thing first" discussion, I buckle on the helmet, step onto the board. The wind at this point had thankfully ebbed to the low teens, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the 6.5 powered the board across the cold lake with just the slightest sheeting, and felt only slightly overpowered.
After several nice runs, I discover that the sensation of riding on ice is remarkably like riding on water, except for 2 details:
1) the sound is very different. Its much quieter, but more shrill from the sound of the skates carving a track as you move forward
2) when you fall, there are no soft landings. Its like hitting cement, and the best you can hope for is that you fall in a flat spot and not on one of the (many) protruding chunks of ice lifting up like tectonic plates. You need to ride conservatively, and have full awareness that tumbling off can end badly.
After a couple of times trading the board back and forth, we started to get the hang of steering it using back foot pressure, and were starting to be able to pick up some speed. The best though was nearly getting the thing to gybe, which I have to say is one of the reasons we were excited to to try it to begin with, so we would hopefully have the maneuver figured out by the time it was warm enough to get back on the (liquid) water in the spring.
Now from my perspective, the only downside to this whole arrangement was the fact that we only had one of them, and one person had to stand and get chilly while the other person rode. While Amanda was taking a run, I was looking N up the lake and about 300 yards north of where I stood and I could see the waves lapping up on the edge of the ice shelf, and thinking how completely cool it was to be able to stand there and soak it all in. The icy wind was blowing all around me, making a steady muffled howl through my hat and balaclava, and closing down my sensory perception of the situation, to only a small periscope opening around my eyes and nose as I peered out into the soft blue sky with puffy white clouds.
In the instant I came out of my little daydream, I turned just in time to see Amanda crash into the ice several hundred yards away, her going in one direction and the sail/board going the other. At first I thought "ouch!" and just stood there knowing that there wasn't a whole lot I could do at that moment and crashing was just part of the process.
Then I noticed she wasn't getting up, at which point I started to walk in her direction. Then as I got closer, I realized that not only wasn't she getting up, she didn't appear to be moving.... at all. I started running her direction slipping and tripping with the non-grace of a wholly mammoth being chased out on some pre-Cambrian ice sheet.
Fortunately, she was alert and had started to sit up by the time I got there, but with a complete look of amazement on her face. After standing up, the first words out of her mouth were something like "what just happened?" followed by "I don't want to freak you out, but I don't remember how we got here?" At first the gravity of the situation didn't quite hit me, but it sunk in, when 30 seconds later, the same questions were repeated to me. Then 60 seconds later, again... "what happened just now?" and it was clear that it was time to go that instant.
We would find out later (at the hospital) that she had suffered a concussion, the only outward sign of which was a substantial loss of short-term memory (aside from a bruised elbow and finger). The walk to the car was enough to convince me that a trip to the hospital was a given, the only question was whether it was going to be as a seated passenger in her car or a horizontal passenger in an ambulance. The walk went well, albeit with more questions "how did we get out here today?" "did something happen, why are we going back in?" After passing a couple quick level of consciousness/neurological/motor skills tests that I remembered from my stint as an EMT 10 yrs ago, I figured it was safe to take the time to actually pack our stuff and drive there instead of calling 911.
The hard phone call to make was to her partner, telling her (in my nicest "please do not panic or hate me" tone of voice) what had happened, and to meet us at the hospital. There is nothing quite like the feeling of knowing that you (objectively) had nothing to do with the outcome at hand, but still having nagging feeling of returning something you had borrowed, in a broken state. It is worse yet when the 'thing' in question isn't something made of glass or metal, but its both your friend and the dearest person in the world to the trembling voice on the other end of the phone.
In the end it all turned out fine, after the obligatory "feels like forever wait" in the ER (which was really only 30 min wait to be seen), and a CT scan (and more waiting), we were sent on our way with the standard "take some motrin and get some rest" advice with 3 total hours spent in the hospital.
The hindsight of the experience is the resounding lesson that a helmet is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL!!! for ice/snow boarding. I definitely plan to get back out there this season, but watching a good friend come close to a really bad outcome was enough to give pause, makes me appreciate being healthy and alive, and grateful for the chance to play for one more day on this earth.
Whatever you do, play hard out there, but be please be careful. Wear a helmet, and don't go by yourself
Oh.... and for the record, Season 2.0 is officially underway. Game on.
So Amanda and I had planned on going xc skiing this morning, and in a benevolent moment she decided to throw the ice board, a 6.5 sail, mast/boom/etc into the car on the way to pick me up this morning to go to Hammond Hill. So the plan for skiing was to do "skating", which for those who don't know is this really cool, athletic form of skiing that is basically like high-speed ice skating on snow. The snow conditions were barely passable for skating, certainly not pristine, but the real deal breaker was the combined snow conditions, the howling wind, and the many hills.
So 30 minutes later we decide to pack it in and try out the ice board on the massive ice shelf on the S end of Cayuga Lake. When we get there and step out of the car, the wind was simply rocking... It felt like NNW 20-25 and I seriously questioned the "live to fight another day" side of trying to take out an ice board that neither of us had ever ridden (that has SUPER low resistance to sliding), with such a big sail, in big wind. We convince ourselves somehow that really its not *such* a bad idea, pull on every last inch of clothes that we each brought, and drag everything out of the car to rig up.
Now the ice at the south end of the lake has been through several freeze-thaw cycles, and is mostly made up of large bus-to-car sized sheets of bright white aerated ice, that have all broken apart, shifted a little through wind/wave action, and have refrozen in place with jagged black seams of clear ice joining the blocks back together. The entire works, is in the process of cracking again, with miniature crevasses 1/2 inch wide and hundreds of feet long traversing the jumbled set of miniature icebergs glued together and laced with black seams.
We move about 200yds into the lake and attach sail to ice board for the first time. Since we only had one board and one helmet between the two of us, we had to take turns and after a slightly skeptical/hesitant "who is going to try this thing first" discussion, I buckle on the helmet, step onto the board. The wind at this point had thankfully ebbed to the low teens, and I was pleasantly surprised to find the 6.5 powered the board across the cold lake with just the slightest sheeting, and felt only slightly overpowered.
After several nice runs, I discover that the sensation of riding on ice is remarkably like riding on water, except for 2 details:
1) the sound is very different. Its much quieter, but more shrill from the sound of the skates carving a track as you move forward
2) when you fall, there are no soft landings. Its like hitting cement, and the best you can hope for is that you fall in a flat spot and not on one of the (many) protruding chunks of ice lifting up like tectonic plates. You need to ride conservatively, and have full awareness that tumbling off can end badly.
After a couple of times trading the board back and forth, we started to get the hang of steering it using back foot pressure, and were starting to be able to pick up some speed. The best though was nearly getting the thing to gybe, which I have to say is one of the reasons we were excited to to try it to begin with, so we would hopefully have the maneuver figured out by the time it was warm enough to get back on the (liquid) water in the spring.
Now from my perspective, the only downside to this whole arrangement was the fact that we only had one of them, and one person had to stand and get chilly while the other person rode. While Amanda was taking a run, I was looking N up the lake and about 300 yards north of where I stood and I could see the waves lapping up on the edge of the ice shelf, and thinking how completely cool it was to be able to stand there and soak it all in. The icy wind was blowing all around me, making a steady muffled howl through my hat and balaclava, and closing down my sensory perception of the situation, to only a small periscope opening around my eyes and nose as I peered out into the soft blue sky with puffy white clouds.
In the instant I came out of my little daydream, I turned just in time to see Amanda crash into the ice several hundred yards away, her going in one direction and the sail/board going the other. At first I thought "ouch!" and just stood there knowing that there wasn't a whole lot I could do at that moment and crashing was just part of the process.
Then I noticed she wasn't getting up, at which point I started to walk in her direction. Then as I got closer, I realized that not only wasn't she getting up, she didn't appear to be moving.... at all. I started running her direction slipping and tripping with the non-grace of a wholly mammoth being chased out on some pre-Cambrian ice sheet.
Fortunately, she was alert and had started to sit up by the time I got there, but with a complete look of amazement on her face. After standing up, the first words out of her mouth were something like "what just happened?" followed by "I don't want to freak you out, but I don't remember how we got here?" At first the gravity of the situation didn't quite hit me, but it sunk in, when 30 seconds later, the same questions were repeated to me. Then 60 seconds later, again... "what happened just now?" and it was clear that it was time to go that instant.
We would find out later (at the hospital) that she had suffered a concussion, the only outward sign of which was a substantial loss of short-term memory (aside from a bruised elbow and finger). The walk to the car was enough to convince me that a trip to the hospital was a given, the only question was whether it was going to be as a seated passenger in her car or a horizontal passenger in an ambulance. The walk went well, albeit with more questions "how did we get out here today?" "did something happen, why are we going back in?" After passing a couple quick level of consciousness/neurological/motor skills tests that I remembered from my stint as an EMT 10 yrs ago, I figured it was safe to take the time to actually pack our stuff and drive there instead of calling 911.
The hard phone call to make was to her partner, telling her (in my nicest "please do not panic or hate me" tone of voice) what had happened, and to meet us at the hospital. There is nothing quite like the feeling of knowing that you (objectively) had nothing to do with the outcome at hand, but still having nagging feeling of returning something you had borrowed, in a broken state. It is worse yet when the 'thing' in question isn't something made of glass or metal, but its both your friend and the dearest person in the world to the trembling voice on the other end of the phone.
In the end it all turned out fine, after the obligatory "feels like forever wait" in the ER (which was really only 30 min wait to be seen), and a CT scan (and more waiting), we were sent on our way with the standard "take some motrin and get some rest" advice with 3 total hours spent in the hospital.
The hindsight of the experience is the resounding lesson that a helmet is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL!!! for ice/snow boarding. I definitely plan to get back out there this season, but watching a good friend come close to a really bad outcome was enough to give pause, makes me appreciate being healthy and alive, and grateful for the chance to play for one more day on this earth.
Whatever you do, play hard out there, but be please be careful. Wear a helmet, and don't go by yourself
Oh.... and for the record, Season 2.0 is officially underway. Game on.
