Watch Colin shred Rocket Pocket (quicktime file) (also see the photo gallery in the current Powder magazine)

The next autumn after Rocket Pocket, I went in to MBC and threw down for the new Dianese Shield 6 back armor. At $250 it was definitely a luxury item, but I figured I couldn’t afford not to have it. To me being in the mountains is about reducing the risks as much as you can and if a back pad offered one more shot at survival, then I was going to pull that trigger. In my heart I knew I wanted to ski lines like ‘Rocket Pocket’ in the upcoming year and I wanted to be as safe as I could.

I wore the pad every day of freeskiing for most of the season. It’s not uncomfortable and I barely noticed it. I toured with it sometimes, but usually didn’t. For on-hill freeskiing though, it became apart of my routine. For the first half of the winter I never felt the need for it once.

Things changed however, when I showed up in Fernie, at the freeskiing comp finals in late March. That morning, ski patrol were working their tails off to open up the Lizard headwall, the previously permanently closed terrain above the resort. There were 20 guys that got the opportunity to shred it and a lot of adrenaline was pumping in all of us; no practice run was allowed and I had never skied the venue before.

As the competition started we were eager to know the conditions and when the first competitor dropped in, she rag-dolled the entire venue, over 2 cliff bands. Everyone from the organizers to the crowd fell into a spell of worry but she ended up ok and walked away from it. I gulped when I saw that she had picked the same entrance that I wanted to use; good thing I’m wearing a back pad I thought!

When my turn came to ski, I managed to get past the first feature but it wasn’t long till I found my own trouble. I zigged when I should have zagged and I found myself precariously pinned on top of 30-40 ft. of 60 degree jagged rock with only my tips and tails touching rock. In a moment, the idea of doing well in the comp or anything but survival faded from my thoughts as I realized that I was in a serious situation.

When you’re maxed-out staying calm is perhaps the most important thing; good climbers get better when things go worse. As I desperately tried to gain a purchase with my skis I was calculating the possibilities of rolling down this rock feature and the totals were not encouraging. I forced myself to take some deep breaths and I distinctly remember, that the thought of the back pad, gave me one more ounce of peace than I would have had without it. The pad allowed me one more degree of comfort that let me release my worry and focus on getting to safety. Long after I had timed-out of the event, I managed to work myself to safe ground and ski to the bottom, and reality, pissed-off about my mistake, but unhurt.

After this experience, in my mind, the back pad had just paid for itself.What turned about to be nothing could have been worse.

Fast forward 3 weeks and I find myself in epic but dangerous conditions at Whitewater resort on closing day. After one successful run, I let my guard down and ski at a foolish speed down the ‘cougar’s claw’ and I get spanked. I’m 4 turns into a 1000ft line when I get slammed by my slough and I end up rag dolling through features in an avalanche. In the middle of beast I feel myself floating and I realize that I’m in the air, upside down and backwards over what ended up being only a 15 footer*. I take the impact of the air square on my back. Both my skis release and through grace, I stay concious and I end up at the bottom of the run on top a big load of snow with no skis and no poles, otherwise unhurt.

The back pad has now more than paid for itself; I owe it one.


Every season I spend on snow I explore the limits of my abilities; it’s part of the game. The goal however, is to always reach a peak of success and come down the other side with out getting paying for the consequences. Fernie and Whitewater represent my peak last season but at the cost of me losing control over the circumstances; thankfully the price was minimal. I give credit to my back pad with a small piece of my good fortune and I give God the rest.

I would recommend riding with body armor to anybody. The only downside that I can foresee involves avalanche burial and breathing. The pad I have wraps tightly around my whole stomach and acts a kidney belt. However, the potential of it putting pressure on your diaphragm when buried is very real. Breathing ability becomes of the highest importance if buried in a slide and I could see my back pad working against me in this kind of circumstance.

The only other thing I’d say about my model of Dianese (Shield 6) is that it often hikes up around my waist and sometimes it leaves the very end of my tailbone exposed. In year’s like last, when the snow pack was sketchy and you weren’t sure what lurked beneath the air you wanted, it’d suck to have thrown down for a pad that didn’t come through where you needed it most. Tailbone to rock isn’t pretty. There is, of course, always more options that you can work with like protective shorts or different styles and makes of back padding.


Overall though, when you consider the cost of a lost opportunity in the mountains that a preventable back injury may incur. A back pad is a small amount to pay for the precious moments that we never get enough of.

P

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* the 'cougars's claw' flirts with a cliff that is at least 150ft at it's biggest.

-Special thanks to Chris at Ride Guide for the jpgs from the Fernie comp.-

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