Stopping for a quick break I took the opportunity to survey the constancy of the dirt road I would soon be riding. The road was originally a mining road that served as a passage through the mountains. The natural layer of hard packed dirt from recent rain was littered occasionally by a protruding boulder or a scattering of crushed gravel. Earlier on in the road I had found myself walking over a thicker level of gravel, most likely an recent improvement to the old road.

I capped my water and pulled on my pack and after situating my mountainboard that was secured to my pack I continued up through the pass. My intentions for choosing this place for my World Mountainboard Day adventure was for the ride. Of course it’s always for the ride but on this day I wanted to focus especially on the ride, the flow, that connection between rider and earth.

The road was somewhat steep at parts but for the most part wound gently through the surrounding hills and peaks. The hike was quiet, except for the rocks occasionally grinding against each other under my feet.
Soon I reached the highest point of the road beyond which descended further into the pass. Marking the end of my journey and nestled in the hills was a small lake. Fed by trickling streams that tumbled down from melting snow and distant glaciers, the waters still surface seemed to reflect the solitude of its setting.

It was at this lake that I geared up. I pulled on my pads and prepped my gear. The actual descent hadn’t even started yet but already the gnar was working it’s way into my blood. The awesome scenery that sprawled out around appeared littered with possible ride spots. Having spent extra attention in surveying my descent path and it’s terrain I felt connected with the ride already-it was mine.

After a couple adjustments after initially strapping in I found just the right tire pressure in order to slow my ride to where I wanted it. The entire mountain was mine, only a couple of confused marmots witnessed my ride. While the ride was somewhat slow, I maintained enough speed to be able to enjoy that awesome sensation of the carve; the exchange with gravity and momentum, the careful balance between too much and too little force at the peak of each carve.

Although my World Mountainboard Day was spent on a solo adventure, I was united by riders from all over. Everyone doing their thing. I think that’s the what makes mountainboarding so gnarly; everyone has their own thing but yet on World Mountainboard Day we can all still unite.

Here’s the official intro from Rayne Longboards, our mountainboarding cousins, about episode 4 of the LongTreks expedition:

“The easy part is over! We now face the hardest climb yet, from sea level to summit of a 14,000ft mountain. Inch by inch, we skate into the mouth of the Andes and become
drenched as we ascend into the rain-clouds. At high-altitude we battle tougher terrain with half the amount of oxygen. Sleeping for 15 hours in their tents, so as to outlive the
rain and rest from the oxygen-deficient altitudes, proves to be costly and depletes our water and food supply, but we must push onward, striving to make it to the next town.”