So I got to thinking. Wouldn’t it be cool if the same concept were available on a smartphone? Would it really be all the difficult to do?

I put the idea aside for a few months. As luck would have it, a new client of mine wanted me to write a guide on iPhone App development using a new framework called Sencha Touch. When you combine Sencha Touch with Javascript, HTML 5, and PhoneGap, you get the unique ability to build mobile apps that can be easily deployed to multiple smartphone-like devices.

As I was learning the ropes of Sencha Touch and Javascript, it suddenly dawned on me that I had everything I needed to make an online Snow Dice App. So one Sunday morning in February, I woke up and got to work on it. Within a mere 4 hours, I already had the basic functionality programmed in. After 8 hours, I had some settings and a few safeguards to stop bizarre trick suggestions from popping up (cork 180 anyone?).

You can use the app right now by clicking on the link below:
Snow Dice: Snowboarding App.

Snow Dice App randomly generates a line of snowboarding tricks for you to try on a triple set of jumps. It “understands” the concept of switch, so all of the tricks flow together smoothly. A trick that is landed switch goes into a switch trick. The app also “knows” not to repeat certain spin types and grabs. If the first trick is frontside, the second and third tricks cannot, again, be frontside. The idea is to force you out of your comfort zone. I want to make you try something new.

There are a bunch of settings as well, and more are on the way. You can turn corks, misties, and rodeos on/off, and you will soon be able to choose from three difficulty levels. If more people get in on this app, and it really takes off, I’ll consider adding in the game of S.H.R.E.D. Heck, I might do it anyway if I’ve got a weekend with nothing important going on.

Snow Dice App also suggests new rail tricks. You can get to them by going to the “rails” section.

As you can expect, I’m also developing a skier version. Why miss out on literally half of the market? This isn’t that hard to do, considering you only need to change a few words around. I’ve already got some skier friends who are more than happy to help me with this.

You can play the free skier version by clicking on this link:
Snow Dice: Skiing.

Sorry there’s no grabs yet. Working on that. I don’t know your silly terminology.

Right now, I’m waiting with bated breath to see if Apple will approve my code. Once they do, the next logical course of action is to get the skier version to the App Store. After that, I’m tackling Android and Blackberry. As soon as I’m on all platforms, I’ll start building new features.

Snow Dice will start out at $.99 on iTunes. I can’t wait ’till it’s released!

I’ve been working on a double since the fall of last season. Back then, we’d go to this gymnastics place out in Colorado Springs called Art’s Sports World. They had open gym on Saturday mornings. If you can imagine a bunch of twenty somethings trying double flips into foam pits as 9 and 10 year olds tumble around, you’ll pretty much get the idea of what that was all about.

After that, I tried the trick a few times at Woodward’s foam pit in Copper, and then we had another session out in the backcountry last April.

The big moment arrived at the end of last season. On the last day, I tried the double backflip on the first jump in Freeway Terrain Park at Breck. I almost landed it that day, but it was slightly over-rotated. As I learned, the trick is kind of difficult to spot the first few times you do it. You’re so charged with adrenaline that the prospect of landing it seems to be the least of your concerns. You’re just happy to be alive and not broken.

So I went to New Zealand, but the big jumps didn’t open until August, and a rash of bad weather made it difficult for me to get in some more attempts. At least that’s what I tell myself. The fear factor on that trick is so high that you’ll come up with a million excuses not to do it. I’m happy enough that I got in 2 attempts while I was down there.

Fast forward 6 months, and I’m standing at the top of Freeway with all those terrifying emotions going through my head again. I mean, it’s been six months since New Zealand, and I’m just going to jump into this with no extra preparation. Yikes. But there’s something funny about tricks. Once they get into your head, they don’t get out.

I spent a few weeks trying the trick on and off. I think it really came together when the fear level started to recede. Do something enough times, and it’s suddenly not as scary. And yes, that even applies to double flips, strange as it may seem.

So here I am with a double backflip under my belt. I have no idea what’s next for me and snowboarding. Perhaps not sucking at spinning? That would be a start.

It lasts all of one day. I’m not worried about the day after I do something scary. That day is the best day of my life. No, it’s the day after the day after that. That’s when the gears start turning again. That’s when you start imagining everything you could be doing. That’s when right now just isn’t enough.

April 8th. There was a foot of fresh, and knowing what this month does to snow, we might only have a few hours before it turns to mush. You never know about these things. You show up at the spot, look it over, and end up going home if everything isn’t just right. You always risk wasting a day.

Dan joined me at the City Market. The spot was a 45 minute drive away, and he was busy getting coffee. I sat in the car, nervously thinking about the snowpack. Did it all vanish during yesterday’s warm afternoon? Were we already too late? I called Ross. He was on his way, passing through the area. He was there, and even he wasn’t sure. These things are complicated. There is only one way to know. You need to go right to the jump spot and check it out.

On the drive over, Dan and I talked about how our parents never get to see this world of ours. We tell them stories, sure, and we show them videos, but it’s not quite the same. I can feel the hopelessness and uncertainty of the situation. It’s in my voice. It’s the way Dan sighs as he takes another sip of coffee.

Ross was waiting an entire hour at the top. I felt horrible about it. Loveland pass is cold, even in April. I just tried to gather everything up as fast I could so I could get moving. Helmet? Check. Goggles? Check. Beacon, probe, and shovel? Check, check, and check. We were ready.

To get to the spot, you hike around this ridge and hold onto the guard rail while trying to avoid the icy patches under your feet. When it’s windy, it’s practically impossible to find a spot to strap in. You just kind of set your board down and hope for the best. You give yourself a second to wave goodbye to the onlookers who come up to the divide to take a picture and get back into their cars.

We blazed trails to the spot. It’s always the same spot. It’s the place you go when you think you’re ready for something new. When you decide, in all your years of experience, that the next natural step in the progression is two flips instead of “just” one, you come here.

Up another ridge and down into the valley, we were there. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones. Somebody put a nice big log where we were going to build our jump. The landing on the other side of the log was totally bombed out. It was unsalvageable.

I got out my probe and poked it into the snow to the left of the destroyed landing. Was it possible? If you went too far to the left, you risked running right into a tree. If you went to the right, you were going to hit the bombed out landing. We had to build this jump very precisely, or we were going to get worked. We kept looking back at the landing zone. Then we looked to the right. After a good ten minutes of deliberation, we started to move that big old log out of the way. This was our last chance, after all.

It took several tries to get the thing to aim correctly. At first, it would have shot us right into the trees. I set my friend’s snowboard on top of the lip and lined it up. If we followed its direction, we might have a chance. We took turns building a runway and digging out our new jump.

I usually hate working on jumps with other people. Everyone is too invested in it, and nobody ever makes an objective decision. Some people are just downright domineering. They have to be the lead shaper, and everyone has to follow their “creative” direction. It’s just like high school, but everyone is pretending to be over it.

Ross and Dan are a little different. There’s still some of that tension, but nobody consciously steps forward and declares himself the supreme chancellor of the jump. Of course, I always feel like I have to keep Ross in check. He’s just crazy, and there’s no other way to describe it. You can barely keep him still when he gets an idea in his head.

We ate lunch when the jump was finished. You have to let these things set before you hit them. We passed the water around and looked at what we just built. Could it work?

The runway was clear. It was time to act before it all melted away. I hiked up, feeling the sinking pit in my stomach again. Why do I keep doing this to myself? How is that I haven’t quit this yet?

I only did a straight air on the first jump. Sad, I think to myself. It’s always a bummer when you don’t just jump in and go for it. At least I knew the landing was safe.

Ross went. He did the same thing, and now we’ve succeeded in packing our landing out even more. Was this how the day was going to go? Were we coming all the way up here to do nothing? I couldn’t let it happen. I had to get redemption.

When you feel the onset of redemption, you move three times as fast. That’s hard to do when you’re at 10,000 feet and you can barely breathe. It’s hot. It’s April. I’m practically running up a mound of snow, just so I can ride down and do a backflip on another mound. I get to the top and, panting, I think, “this is my post-college ‘career’ choice.”

One drop. One backflip. I was terrified because I knew I was ready. Everything was in place. The double flip eluded me for years. We never had a chance to build this jump. We waited all year long, and there was still no snow. We even took a trip to Utah, thinking we might hit a storm. Nothing. This was it. If you don’t do something now, you have to wait an entire year to get your chance.

Is that something you want to live with all summer?

Snowboarding is torture sometimes. But it’s the kind of torture you enjoy. You keep coming back to it because when you succeed, you’re finally, really, actually, happy. And this isn’t the kind of happiness you tell your friends about. It isn’t the same thing you feel when you’re talking to everyone else who doesn’t live in the mountains. This isn’t even that thing they told you when you were in school about appreciating everything and living in the moment. It’s none of that. I’m talking about real happiness here.

I got back to the top, and I was shaking. That pit had grown into a black hole. I took my time strapping in because I knew, within moments, I would actually have to try this thing. I shuffled through my iPod, trying to find the right song. When I landed on it, I was even more terrified. My friends were wondering what was going on. If this was going to happen, it had to happen right now.

I saw the move in my head. It’s simple, really. You just throw a backflip and keep on going. It’s all one fluid motion. 1…. 2….

I dropped into the runway and felt for a second as if the jump was entirely foreign. It was like I had never hit one before. No. Not today. Not another year of wondering “what if.” My legs hardened. I gained speed.

As I flew off the jump, I knew it was coming around. I heard my friends yelling in the distance. They had never seen anything like this from me before. I landed somewhere in the powder, caught my edge, and kept tumbling. I took the double backflip to my feet!

I tried two more times that day, crashing on each attempt. It didn’t matter. I was actually doing this thing.

Double Rodeo Attempt from Ted Bendixson on Vimeo.

That morning, I left the house with the vaguest hope. I had no idea what was up there. None of us did. We took a chance on a longshot, and it worked. We could have turned around at any point, told ourselves we’d never make the landing, and gone back home with a sigh. But we didn’t. We made this thing happen. In spite of all the risk, the chance of smashing into a tree and getting dragged the rest of the way down the pass, we went for it.

You aren’t happy until you’ve wanted something for years, doubted yourself time and again, and then actually gotten it. Happiness is not contentment. It isn’t a beach paradise in the Bahamas or some magical meditative state. You don’t just find it. You have to step off the edge, swallow every doubt, and make it.

And finally, the result of an epic day:

Double Rodeo Attempt from Ted Bendixson on Vimeo.

Cardona Teaser Ted Bendixson from Ted Bendixson on Vimeo.

Coloarado Collaboration: Beetle Kill Teaser from JANKY 2.0 on Vimeo.

Oh, before I forget. Here’s a quick shout out to all of my friends who tolerated the epically long setup times it took for me to get the tripod and everything perfect for the shot. You never gave me up, let me down, ran around, or deserted me. I just wanted to tell you how I’m feeling.

Rodeo 7 Near Berthoud Pass

February 2010, Berthoud Pass Colorado. We hiked up to the top of Berthoud Pass, strapped to the nines with avy gear and photo equipment. After a good hour and a half jump building session, we got to hit the money booter into two feet of pow. Double flips were learned, and it went off. Many thanks to Jordan Zdanek for capturing this one.

Cab Cork 5 On Freeway

April 2010, Breckenridge Colorado. Just another spring day up in Breckenridge. Brian Locke snapped this one while we were taking laps.

Summertime At MHSSC

June 2009, Mt. Hood Oregon. I love doing this. After a long day of work at Timberline Lodge, we changed out of our server’s clothes and went out for an evening photo shoot up at Mount Hood Summer Ski Camp. The hike up to the top is a pain, but the photos, beers, and all around good times are more than worth it. Photo credit, again, goes to Brian Locke.

August In Oregon

August 2008, Mt. Hood Oregon. Just before taking this one, I almost got destroyed by another snowboarder hitting this rail. The only way to get this photo was to get up close and personal with a telephoto lens, right on the landing of the rail. A guy did a 50-50, landed it perfectly, and I barely missed him as I dove out of the way. In any case, my friends snapped this one, and it’s still one of my favorites.

Keystone Bike Park Awesomeness

January 2009, Keystone Colorado. This was pretty rad. Keystone has a bike park that they keep stashed away in the trees for the summertime. Last year, they decided to keep it open during the snowboarding season and allow us all to go through it. We took a lot of photos on that day and had a lot of nasty falls. Just as I should have expected, the best photos were the ones that required the least risk. Thanks to Curtiss Feltner for getting this shot.

I want to thank Alex from Elance for making this happen. You guys are great, and your service is the stuff that dreams are made of.