clayton's essay

Clayton Improta

Life place essay #1

Writ 101 Mackenzie Cole

Sun, Snow and Led Zepplin

                Many memories pass through my mind when I think of my hometown of Missoula, MT. Many people think of Montana as a backwoods state, with more trees and mountains than people, or maybe they think it’s a part of Canada. And yes, I have been asked if I am Canadian. Missoula has many amazing things to offer because of this isolated and natural wilderness. I have been thrust into the outdoors by my parents my entire childhood, and whether I like it or not the wilderness around me has become more familiar and home-like. I often think back and remember some of my favorite spots.

            My favorite place is Snowbowl, the ski area visible from downtown Missoula. Many spots in this area contend with it; the great hikes in the rattlesnake that lead into the Bob Marshall wilderness or the Clark Fork and Bitterroot rivers that wind through the valley. Snowbowl is in between Missoula and an enormous mountain range known as the Mission Mountains. Snowbowl’s peak stands besides Sleeping woman peak and Stuarts peak. They stand like epic sentinels guarding the entrance of the Missions.

I was raised to ski, and have had boots and boards strapped to my feet every winter since I can remember.  Snowbowl as my hometown ski area has become a very homelike and comfortable place for me. I can’t think of a run or a tree section that I haven’t skied or at least looked at. I’ve ridden the lifts probably over a couple thousand times and I know almost every line to take on the way down. The same coniferous forest hidden under the dense thick shell of ice and snow that I ski in and past over and over, in and out of the trees and through the snow.

Something about this never gets old to me, often times I will think about visiting other areas, riding new runs and branching out in my diversity of mountains. There are Lost Trail and Lookout pass; two areas lie on the Montana and Idaho border. Both of these areas are heavily forested and extremely high in elevation providing them with plenty of cut ski runs and more than enough snow to last them through the spring. Some of the best powder days I’ve ever had were skiing on lookout pass.  Snowbowl is often known for what are called “chicken heads.” These are thick chunks of ice that sit above a thick layer of ice, often causing the edge of a ski to travel in any other direction than you want it to. These are also known as “death cookies.”

 I always keep going back to snowbowl not because of how great it is but of the challenge of the hill and the beauty of the area. Snowbowl is quite a bit lower than most of the ski areas in Montana but its vertical footage is something to awe. From base to top the mountain spans 2600 vertical feet.

 It brings me back again and again for the challenge of its steeper slopes and tight tree runs that hide pockets of powder like gold nuggets. It brings me back for the beautiful views and the hidden places that I can feel like I’m in on the secret. I have also gone back to ski a terrible day on the mountain and relax in the bar for a Bloody Mary and a slice of wood-fire cooked pizza. I certainly haven’t gone back for the management’s terrible reputation for bad customer service, although the bar is always friendly.

When you drive up the winding road to snowbowl you notice first a Double black diamond posted to one of the many ponderosa pine trees surrounding the road. This was someone’s sick humor long ago that the hardest run on the mountain was the drive up, and it certainly was before recent renovations. Since then the road has been smoothed out but frequent tire tracks are seen of the banks of the road all the way to the top. I remember my dad always used to travel slow and watch out-of-towner’s race to the top or down to the bottom. Almost inevitably we would see them waiting for the tow-truck at one of the many treacherous turns. I think my dad often received a small enjoyment out of that. He was always the driving force behind my skiing being such an avid skier himself.

That was always a great memory of mine, not seeing people crash, but riding up with my Father. We often stayed quiet on the ride up early in the morning, my Dad would put in a copy of Led Zeppelin on Cassette and we would watch the sunrise through the dense forest. At that hour light seems to trickle like liquid gold through the trees. I remember being very comfortable, eating my power bar and enjoying the morning moment of relaxation before the more than likely hard day of skiing. My Dad never talked much but I could tell he was happy.

You strap on your skis at the parking lot the sound of excited skiers and boarders fills the parking lot like a dull lazy rumble at 8:30am skiers with their coffee slowly trickle out of their Toyota’s and Subaru’s and begin to stretch their legs for the steep long day.  My Dad walks over and greets the parking attendant with a PBR and a smile. The sun bounces of the crusty cold snow and instantly blazes warmth and heat on your face. You throw your ski’s over your shoulder and you can feel your boots squish already in the mud that’s when you know it’s going to be a great spring ski day.

I associate a lot of these memories with Missoula and with my upcoming graduation and impending move out-of-state many of these things come back to me. I will always remember clearly the mornings with my Dad and the ski day that soon followed. It’s a comforting memory that will be nice to take with me as I leave my hometown and head off to bright new futures. Whenever I want to go back in my mind I can always remember the sun and led zeppelin and I can be happy.