5 turns.

standing on the knob of snow.
scoping the line, snaking from
here to there to there, those
are the first three, bang, bang,
bang & maybe open up the last
one just a bit.

slope rolls over off the headwall,
no scoping the line from above,
what do the next turns hold?
where do they take me?
what's down there?

neat questions to ask, but you know
the answers. how many laps off this
headwall have you done over the years?

click of the poles, then push off,
drop a knee, settling into the
trough between bumps, nail this
turn and establish the rythmn.

POP! let that ski unload you qwik
footed bitch, change leads and
get that next edge engaged.
let the ski work.

POP! solid carvable footing, with
a bit of rain infused hardpack
scrapeage added to the soundtrack.
throw your core down the fall line,
hope that your feet catch up,
shluff flowing down with you.

POP! Drive that uphill hand,
can see past the rollover now.
There's the lip of your nemesis,
a side of the trail drop that only
comes in after a cold month of
running the snow guns.
(we take what we can get)

I'm not comfortable falling thru the
air and I'd like to change that. So we'll
let this third turn finish a bit, moving
out across the line. Hit that hardpack
spine, get light and snap those skis
around midair. That's four.

Set an edge and line her up, breath.
Hesitant side slippage before the
commit. Adrenals firing, bead of
sweat trickles, just point 'em you
fuckin' pussy......pre jump the lip
like you've read about, keep it tight.

then silence.

one-one thousand.

two-one thousand.

touchdown.

DON'T DROP THAT HAND!
Out of the backseat!

drivedrivedrive, eyes open like
platters accelerating instantly to
Mach Looney status out of the
chute and onto an apron of
choppy crud over hardpack.

Let out a hoot, maybe even a holler.

Rinse, and repeat.