Crank's Tank

rites

The debris and grey-brown earth that has emerged from beneath dirty piles of snow are being tended to by sun and hands ready to start planting their gardens. Life is slowly growing through the ashen ground. Every day the verdance creeps to the surface. Sunlight fights for more and more domain each day. I crave the warmth and dry earth and embrace the longer days, but I know that it is springtime in the rockies and I have to be patient. Like the longtime locals, they know that planting their gardens now is asking for a late spring storm to come and lay a deep coat of fresh snow. Same goes for my mind. I can embrace the life that spring breathes into our valley, but I know that waving goodbye to freezing nights and falling snow is as good as an invitation to bring them back for an encore.

The skatepark has seen many hands digging and throwing snow from the bowls one shovel full at a time. For two weeks the levels have been dropping in the big bowl as the piles have been growing on the ouskirts of the park. It's back breaking labor and the academy kids have been really good about working hard to clear skateable concrete. It was thursday night when the shallow end of the big bowl and a big chunk of the street area were swept clean and sessioned. Funny that the local heads haven't done much by the way of work, but the first evening the concrete is swept free of pebbles and dried to perfection, they are present and ready for action. This springtime ritual is painful and fullfilling, frustrating and something I crave.

The Road

There is always so much to do right up until I have to turn the key and drive away from Crested Butte. Last weekend was no exception. I was on the phone, hunting and pecking on the keyboard, and barking at the kids at the school until it was time to get in the car and go. Myriad details were considered while packing simultaniously for two trips. One to the sunny warmth of southern California for Hoy and Becca's wedding and a quick surf session in the Pacific, and the second a week at Copper Mountain, CO for the USASA National Championships. What am I gonna wear to a "garden attire" wedding and will it be snowing, raining, or blistering sun in Copper? The details of computer networking, surf and snowboard wax, registration for the snowboarding event and a wedding gift all race through my head until the rubber hits the pavement. Then its all about the road.

Much as I love Crested Butte and always look forward to the trip home, the thrill of driving out of the valley on another mission always fills me with happiness. The iPod I picked up a month or so ago is a sweet companion if there are no humans going along for the ride. So I had the tunes rolling as I speed through the landscape watching the snow recede from the sides of the road and up into the mountains. Spring is coming, but the snow still dominates the ground. Brown grass and bare trees line the valley bottom, but rebirth is in the air. The calving fields are filled with little black and brown newborns curled into napping postures next to their grass chewing mamas. Deer, coyote, hawk, and prarie dog share the scenery.

Flying again. Denver to Phoenix, Phoenix to San Diego. I'm tired but laughing when I see George Crosland waiting for me at the baggage carosel. His whitey-fro is looking sweet and well-accessorized by his western cut shirt covered in horses and assorted colorful scenes. Guada (Guadalupe, from Argentina), an old friend of Kurt's I know only by name is accompanying him. The late night drive back to Carlsbad is full of talk, music, passing lights. It's good to be with friends. As with many of my close friends, their friends are my friends. Guada's sister, Luz, had stayed with Kurt and I when we lived together on Pine, so it was a cool loop to close meeting Guada and getting to speak with her and get to know her a little.

Wedding day was perfect. SoCal sunshine after a winter filled with rain and mudslides (which mean powder and avalanches in CB) had everyone in a great mood. The flowers were in full bloom and all the trees were alive and verdant. George, Guada (also staying with George) and I went to Kurt's, grabbed surfboards, donned our wetsuits and headed to the beach. It was pretty crowded in the line up, but we found a fun peak and paddled like madmen for the waves. Guada stayed on the beach and was joined by more of Becca and Kurt's friends and family - some of whom joined George and I. The first couple hours we were on short boards. George was reeling in some nice rides while I floundered for a couple meager rides. We switched to long boards for another hour and caught a bunch of waves each. It's a lot of fun sharing waves. Everone in our extended group was cheering loudly - kind of taboo in the coolness of the surf world - but very fun.

The wedding was at Leo Corillo's ranch, a 20 acre preserve in the midst of suburban sprawl. Spanish tile roofs, white washed walls, and beautiful gardens dominate the area. Peacocks own the place and strutted their ploomage all over. The crowd was a nice mix of friends and family from all over the U.S. and as far away as Argentina, Spain, and Australia. Kurt and Becca looked amazing. Becca is a natural beauty. She was so cool and smooth through the whole evening. Kurt was whitty and adoring. The warmth of the day gave way to a sunset full of red and orange. Dinner was served on a patio above the wedding garden. I sat with Dan Pascarello, Aaron Bush,and the whole Elkins clan (Mr and Mrs, Paul, Becca, and Emmie). Food, friends, music, and, inevitably, dancing. I missed Katie most during the dancing because I am too shy to dance on my own, but feel unselfconscious when I am dancing with my woman. This is the time when it is hard to be on the road solo. But the evening was full of love and warmth, and that makes the longing heart feel better.

Sunday I slept too late, checked my itinerary too late, and was forced into a dash for the airport. George was very gracious and went along with my disorganized madness pretty well. I got to dash in and say goodbye to the Hoy household - mid brunch - then bolt south to the airport. I managed to get a coffee and get to the flight without insident - save for leaving aformentioned coffee on the ticket counter, but I was able to recover it before they locked us in for the flight.

When I arrived at the condo on Sunday night, the kids were all fired up. I got the usual hug from Sean B. and a few of the others, then got to work setting up my gear on the floor of the dining room, my bedroom for the next six days. Being on the road with so many teenagers is a crazy buzz. The excitement of the event and not being in school is palpable. Christian contracted a nasty cold and sounded like death through the whole week, but he was in the garage every evening buffing out all the boards with the loving wax work that would have the kids running faster than lightening. Erin shared a tiny bedroom with the three girls from the team. The girls sharing the bed and Erin on a blow-up matress on the floor. Prone to drama, Erin kept the girls together and focused throughout the week. I do not envy the struggles she has within her small crew. Jason and I were the sheppards working between Erin and Christian. Trying to keep the kids busy and fed, as well as trying to get them to stay on task during study hall.

When over 1000 kids get together to snowboard at the highest levels in amateur snowboarding, sparks fly. All the kids were supportive and encouraging to one another, for the most part. Each day we had multiple riders competing, often in different events, so we did a lot of running around and a lot of pacing between runs. Between athletes, parents, coaches, friends, and passers-bye, the resort was humming with activity from early in the morning (we loaded the lifts at 7:30) to late in the evening when the groomers finished their work. A week of such intensity is tough to manage as each kid needs to peak at different times in different days in different events. Our team shined. All week we were knocking out top ten finishes and coming home full of pride. On the last day of competition we were still without a podium, and the vibe was a hungry one from the minute we awoke the kids. With such a big competition there is a lot of waiting around, time to let nerves bubble up, time to think through a million scenarios - it's not easy. Christian and I were on the boardercross course with Mikaela, James, and Asher. They were all pretty cool through the morning, then heated up for the time trials. Mikaela went first and secured her spot in the brackets easily. James smoked all the snowboarders with the fastest time of the day. Asher, a freeskier, came out swinging and knocked out the fastest course time of the week. James and Asher stayed hot all day and didn't lose a heat. They both brought home national titles. James said he was going to throw up after every heat. To my knowledge he did not. I paced and checked and rechecked brackets, called back and forth with Christian (he was at the start buffing boards out, I was at the bottom relaying info and keeping an eye on the officials), and tried not to vomit. Mikaela, a senior, cancer survivor, and all around great person in her final race as a high schooler really wanted to top off her year with a strong finish. She stayed on point all day and advanced into the finals - a huge feat for this young lady. She stayed in the mix through the race and tried to pass in the final berm, hungry to advance to the podium. She went down hard. Boardercross is brutal. She eventually came across the finish line in tears, holding her side. Erin ran up to her to see if she was ok. I arrived second. Mikaela looked up and said she was ok, she was more emotionally hurt from all the tension she went through to get so far. Excessive pride is a sin, and I am a sinner. As a coach, it's amazing to see one of your people win, but as a human it's a great feeling to know you had a hand in helping someone get as far as they can with their goals.

So, we sent Jason and Erin home last night with most of the kids. Parents came for some of the others, and Christian and I stayed behind with a couple more for a final cleaning. It was nice to just kick back and let the week wash over us. We sat in front of the television and ate ice cream in the dark. As I lay in bed listening to the melodies of Ray Barbee, missing home, it came to me that being on the road is a blessing that makes coming home an undescribable sweetness. Now that I am home with my love, about to sit down to a nice meal, I feel whole and full. Grateful.