My First Time Snowboarding After Four Years

It was different but it was like I never stopped too

I’m a winter’s girl. I was born in December. Few weeks old my parents took me with already to my (or their) skiing trip. I was put on skis just as I started to walk. And when I thought I would always be a skier I picked up snowboarding.

I was 16. A rebellious teenager. And a winter girl who just lost her love for skiing and converted into a snowboarder. Ski or snowboard here or there, doesn’t matter. If you would have told me I would go soon through a time span of four years with doing neither of them I would have laughed at you.

But that is exactly what happened. I went through four full years without riding down mountains on my favorite snowboard. It all happened when I lost my heart in Namibia. The magic of Africa made me forget about my winter hobbies. Well, maybe not forget but at least learn to live without them.

Which is only half of the truth. When I decided to stay down there, in southern Africa, I picked up a job as a sandboarding instructor. So in my first few years in Namibia, I spent most of my days with the snowboard strapped to my feet boarding down dunes in the oldest desert of the world.

I also flew home about once a year. To visit family and friends. And to go boarding. In the snow. This is why I always went back in winter. European winter.

But then my life took a different turn. I slowly but surely lost my passion for sandboarding. Or rather decided I wanted to do something different for a living. I improved my skydiving skills and eventually worked in the business.

I became a seasonal worker. A skydiver following the seasons. And the skydiving season is rather opposite to the snowboarding season. There are a few places in the world where you can skydive all year around. But those are the same places you cannot ski. Or snowboard. Ever.

And in all the other places you can ski for half a season. And skydive for the other half. Which explains why I haven’t been back in the snow. I’ve been in snow. In the summer. Hiking in the alps over old snowfields.

But I haven’t been back for a skiing season.

And this year they had the best season in a long time. Lots of snow. Lots of powder. But no people. Skiing lifts had to remain closed in the alps. No winter tourism was allowed.

I might have been happy about not having been in Germany during winter otherwise I would have been rather upset about not being able to board in those amazing snow conditions.

But I still got my chance. Later in the year. The second half of April just began. And I went down to the mountains with my parents. To do a hike in snowshoes together with my husband.

But you know what? I might love hiking. And I might hike up a mountain because all lifts are closed. But I’m not going to hike down a mountain. Not in winter. Not when there’s so much snow everywhere.

I am going to carry my snowboard for five hours on my back.

So that I can board down. In the end.

Here I was. Wearing my snowboarding boots back in the snow. No more sand rubbing on my feet. Instead of shorts and a t-shirt, I was wearing several layers of clothes. Taking them off as I got warmer from the climb. Putting them back on as the wind picked up and the clouds moved in.

My parents are more than double my age. But I am far from their fitness level. My dad walked probably twice the distance we did since he constantly walked back and forth filming us with the GoPro I gave him to capture the trip.

My mom was usually far ahead of us. Not even wearing the snowshoes yet. Hiking light like a mountain goat. I guess she didn’t have to carry the extra weight of a board on her back but that was my choice.

“Happiness is first tracks on fresh snow.” — Unknown (or every boarder’s/ skier’s words)

We got to the cottage where we made a quick lunch break. Due to the restrictions, no restaurants are open and we had to carry all our food and drinks with us. But at least there was a bench outside we could sit on.

Just after this break, I had the first chance to board for a few meters. It was going downhill. Not for long. But anything counts for me right now. Every part I can strap on my board I will do so.

It was rather flat and I had to pick up some speed not to get stuck in the thick snow. This part felt rather similar to boarding in the sand. But then I had to ride a bit on the walkway which was rather slippery and icy. I felt like a beginner not knowing how to turn and control the board. Carrying that backpack didn’t help probably. It was pulling me back a lot.

But you know what? It felt great! Even this little bit of sliding. In the snow. This is where I feel at home. And as I strapped my board on the next time I felt like I never stopped.

Maybe snowboarding too is like riding a bike. Once you’ve learned it you can’t forget how to do it. Muscle memory is all you need.

“Snowboards are not just pieces of wood, steel and fiberglass. They are tools of escape. A medium for personal expression. A way to challenge fears, push limits and share incredible experiences with your friends” — Shreadstuff

So here I am. Smiling from the inside while suffering on the outside. It’s time to go further up again. My parents didn’t look for a gentle beginners hike. No, they don’t do such things. This trip would take us 7 hours to return to the car.

Even though I do remember how much I was fighting my inner child when hiking up the last stretch to reach the ridge — it was worth all the struggle. The fact I could finally board again made me forget about all the pain.

The weather was closing. This had been the last time I was taking layers off. Despite still going further up along the ridge towards the peak we only put clothes back on.

The sun remained behind the clouds for the rest of the day and therefore the temperatures dropped drastically. This is the reason why I packed so many warm clothes and jackets in my backpack. Because you never know. What the weather decides to do.

When we reached the peak we didn’t stop for more than a quick family picture. The wind was howling and we moved on to find protection in the forest.

It was only downhill from then on. Maybe not the best part to put your board back on when having been away from it for so long but there was no way I would walk downhill.

I’d rather blame a tree for not getting out of my way.

I made it. More effectively than graceful but that doesn’t matter.

We reached eventually the big slopes which I followed all the way down to the valley. The color in the landscape started to shine. This was my mom’s description of my appearance.

I’m a girl of colors. I love yellow. And anything bright enough to stand out from the crowds. This is why I bought these colorful skiing clothes years ago. They create the perfect contrast to the average tourist in black and grey.

I stopped one more time along the way to wait for the others to catch up with me before I waved and said “see you down there”. Cruising down the rest of the mountain without passing a single person. It’s great. To board. To have the slopes all for myself. And to be back in the snow.

I’m still a snow girl. Despite all the years living in the desert. I might go a few years without boarding down a mountain. But I’ll always stay a snow lover. And I’ll always come back to it.

“Children of winter never grow old.” — The Ski Bum

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Anne Bonfert is a traveler. Photographer. Writer. Teacher. Skydiving instructor. Adventure enthusiast. Nature lover. And fell in love with the African continent.