This article was first published in April of this year and has since been gathering dust in the MountainBoard.net archives. We decided to dig it out and repost it as Thursday’s featured story. Enjoy.

The howling of the coyotes in the distance broke the long silence that had accompanied me on my hike. I stopped to listen for a moment and looked out over the canyon in their direction. The moon was hidden in the clouds and only a few stars gave light to the winding firebreak road under my feet.

The weight of my pack with my board strapped to it reminded me that I still had a ways to go. As I turned to continue up the dirt road, a drop of adrenaline tingled through me disturbing the calm I had felt just seconds before. My purpose this night was a simple one, born of the quiet insanity that many mountainboarders share in common. Tonight I would challenge my senses on a solo mission I called, “Operation Night Ride.”

Each time I stumbled over a rut or a loose rock, the haunting feeling of hesitation would claw its way into my thoughts. The rules I had set for myself beforehand were seeming more impossible with every step. I had set just two simple rules. Rule number one was that no light would be allowed, not even a flashlight. The second rule was that no walking downhill would be allowed, every inch of the winding path that stretched for just under a mile had to be ridden. My pace slowed as I fought my doubts.

Soon I was at the top. A light breeze passed through the canyon. I listened to the tall grass as it swayed somewhere in the shadows nearby. I slowly strapped on my gear, still waiting for some kind of motivation to push away my fears.

My board squeaked as I stepped into my bindings. Then it was silent. No coyotes howling, no wind through the grass, not even a single cricket made a sound during that moment. It was in that silence that I found my motivation. Not a motivation that pushed away the fear; but a motivation that embraced the fear. Energy surged through me and all I wanted to do was ride.

Hesitation was swallowed up with the silence as the loud rumble of my wheels over the dirt and rocks tore through the night air. The air rushed by me as my speed increased. Straining to see the terrain was a hopeless cause and I soon found myself watching only for the faint glow of the path as it snaked it’s way downhill. I found that I had to adjust instantly to each bump and dip as I felt it. I couldn’t see ahead to plan. I had to ride the moment.

Each time I tried to use my eyes to see ahead, I was deceived by the shadows and would overcorrect and find myself slamming into the almost invisible ground below. The extreme confusion of it all and the overload of the senses seemed to drive me to get back up and follow my second rule, to ride it all.

At one section I felt several scattered rocks hitting my trucks. The thought of falling on the rocks distracted me from my focus and I hit the ground. I tumbled to a stop after rolling over several of the rocks. My whole body hurt. I had already wrecked so many times in such a small amount of time and this one seemed to remind me of them all.

After catching my breath, I crawled to my board that lay upside-down some 20 feet away. I turned it upright and collapsed over it. Then I started to laugh. All alone, bruised and bleeding in places I didn’t even know yet, I laughed. The insanity of the whole situation made me laugh even more. I got back up and finished the ride.

As I drove home, I took a moment to ponder what the ride had taught me. I learned first of instinct and how “letting go” can improve your ride, even when you can’t see. I learned that fear shouldn’t be pushed away, that it should be embraced in its positive form. Finally, I learned to ride the moment, whether you can see or not, the thrill is in the moment.

In conclusion, despite the throbbing pain that covered me for days to come, Operation Night Ride was a complete success.

It’s inside every lover of mountainboarding. It can be found somewhere beneath the dirt and pads, and the blood, and the mud. It’s an unexplainable addiction to the ride that drives us like animals to move the sport wildly forward. It inspires and motivates, it dissolves limitations and boundaries. Mountainboarding is truly a unique sport.

Many mountainboarders began riding as an off-season alternative to snowboarding, or to fill in the gaps of surfing or skateboarding. This however, was only the beginning. Over the years, mountainboarding has blown away the early expectations of the sport. Riders have learned ways to tame the chaotic nature of the sport and by so doing have redefined the sport along with it’s potential.

The desire to push this sport forward to new levels can be seen in even the newest of riders. Mountainboarding is still a relatively new sport in many parts of the world which seems to light a flame of inspiration inside of us all. Open for interpretation, this is a sport always ready to be redefined.

Even in small quiet pockets of the earth, places where mountainboarding is know my only a handful of people, there are those who strap in an represent. Hundreds of miles from the nearest mountainboard center, mud covered riders drag there boards up nearby hills or along windy mountain ridges in search of thrash-worthy terrain.

All of us are united by this desire and feed off the same addiction. We all have our own way of expressing ourselves, our own way of pushing forward. Some of us bring the sport to new levels in fast paced competitions. Others never compete in a single event but redefine the limitation of mountainboarding as there wheels roar through mountain canyons, or down steep jungle hillsides.

Regardless of skill level or location, every rider who calls him/herself a mountainboarder has something to offer this sport.

Bumps, bruises, maybe a little blood; all good indicators of a great day of mountainboarding. Seeing a fellow rider get up after a huge spill and continue riding is a normal thing. We step into the bindings each time knowing that injury might await. Some injuries, however, need to be taken care of more immediately in order to prevent further damage. Knowing some basic first aid can help to keep you riding.

Fractures are bad news. There are different kinds of fractures. There are closed fractures, where the bone is fractured under the skin, and there are open fractures, where the bone had broken through the skin and is sticking out. Both need to be treated in order to prevent further injury.

It’s harder to tell if you have a closed fracture than it is for an open fracture (for obvious reasons). Some of the signs to look for are the following:

• It hurts when you move the injured part.
• You can’t move the injured part.
• The injured part looks deformed.
• Swelling or discoloration of the injured part.

If ever you’re in doubt, treat it as a fracture. Any time that a fracture is suspected, you have to exercises extreme care. The ends of broken bones are sharp and movement can cut tissue and blood vessels. If you are in a location where you can get a medical professional on the scene, do it, and avoid moving the injured person if possible. The following instruction is for those instances where you are not so lucky.

The key to treating a fracture is to hold it in place so it doesn’t move around while the person is taken to a professional. As mentioned before, movement of a fracture will only cause more injury. A splint is what is commonly used to hold the injured part still.

A splint can be anything that will hold its shape, just use what you have around you, your mountainboard if you have to. Whatever you choose to use, it should be secured in several places above and below the break. You want the splint to be secure and comfortable. Pad the inside of the splint if possible and never tie it so tight that circulation is lost.

If the fracture is an open fracture, it should still be dealt with in the same manner. With this type of fracture you will also need to treat the wound. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding and cover with a clean bandage (pressure should be applied with care in order to keep the bone from cutting more tissue).

The most important thing for a rider with any kind of fracture is to get professional medical attention. The sooner the better. Never try to reset a broken limb like they do in the movies. Sometimes the limb will look so unnatural that you will want to move it ‘back to normal.’ DO NOT MOVE IT! Let the pros do that part.

Above all, once your fixed, grab your mountainboard and go make up for lost time.

Check back next week for Part 2 of Basic First Aid for Mountainboarders.

Mountainboarding can sometimes take us far from home as we climb up endless hillsides or blister our feet in search of the perfect ride. On these days it’s a good idea to pack a bag with a few things you might need to keep you going while you’re away.

Here’s what I throw in my pack when I’m heading up the mountain for the day:

1. Protective Gear- Unless you enjoy hiking with all your pads on, it’s nice to be able to toss them it your bag until it’s time to ride.

2. First Aid Kit- The following will take care of the minor stuff: gauze roll, athletic tape, compression bandage, Neosporin (or any other kind of antibiotic ointment), and a knife or a small pair of scissors.

3. Water- Avoid hard containers for holding water as the kidneys don’t seem to like them after a good tumble.

4. Food- Depending on how long you plan to be gone, you might need to refill your energy.

5. Cell Phone- Just in case things get bad.

6. Patch Kit- These things are small so there’s no reason to leave it behind.

7. Tools- Carry what you need to remove a wheel, separate hubs (for tube removal), and adjust suspension.

8. Spare Tube- Having at least one spare tube is handy for a quick fix, or for a pinched tube that a patch can’t fix.

9. Tire pump- For fixing flats and adjusting tire pressure.

What you pack in your pack is your business. The key is to pack light, but still be prepared. Just remember that there’s nothing worse than being miles from home with a loose ratchet strap or a flat tire, and no way to fix it.