Snowblades in powder

I've done it like once when I was younger, in what I would consider to be deep snow. It wasn't like the stuff the nimbus guys were skiing in the sled bc thing, but I'm from jersey so... But it sucked, if you weren't going mach 10 you just sunk and got stuck. And I had no poles, so there was a lot of walking involved.
 
I've done it like once when I was younger, in what I would consider to be deep snow. It wasn't like the stuff the nimbus guys were skiing in the sled bc thing, but I'm from jersey so... But it sucked, if you weren't going mach 10 you just sunk and got stuck. And I had no poles, so there was a lot of walking involved.
 
I've done it like once when I was younger, in what I would consider to be deep snow. It wasn't like the stuff the nimbus guys were skiing in the sled bc thing, but I'm from jersey so... But it sucked, if you weren't going mach 10 you just sunk and got stuck. And I had no poles, so there was a lot of walking involved.
 
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TRIPLE POST
 
snowblades are the illest. You can spin and flip like a top and they land switch in pow so well. Also screamin seamens - super easy.
 
You're referring to skiboards, right? It pays to know the difference.

On my 125cm Marauders (considered a longboard..
 
awesome! been thinking of ways to make my old blades even stupider. ideas... combine blades with 90's era tele bindings and old kicker skins, worst touring setup ever!
 
You're a really poor troll, SmellyAsian.

Also, I've never heard of it, but I'm imagining a guy tomahawking all the way down the mountain.
 
I had to teach a snowblade lesson last season, this being Niseko, there was tonnes of snow, unsurprisingly snow blades are terrible in powder. I have no idea why people like them.
 
what about those really really fat snow blades? ive only seem em once but it they were super fat and a bit longer than snow blades, probably 170 underfoot
 
Yes I am. You are also a fucking retarded ass piece of shit who joined this site not even two months ago and all of a sudden know shit shit, pussy.
 
The only reason people snowblade is because it is easier than telling their mother they are a gay bitch.
 
I got a friend who went touring with snowblades last year. He made a video of him getting after it on snowblades, skinning up and all. Just tried to find the video but I failed. I'll ask him where it's hiding and post it up. The sound quality is horrible, but it's pretty funny to watch.
 
Also, forgot to mention. There's a guy who lives in the West Kootenays who makes his own snowblades. He's in his 30's, still lives with his mom, was on house arrest a few years ago for pouring acid on peoples cars. He snowblades the pow, and is super cereal. At Red Mountain he is known as the Dark Knight because he always wears black everything. At Whitewater they call him Darth Blader.

He's quite strange and I've never actually tried to talk to him, but those that have weren't too successful.
 
As soon as you click into a pair of snowblades you can feel something. It's like electricity is being pumped through your bloodstream; you feel alive. You begin to notice changes in your life. They start out small: your walk gains a little swagger, your hair becomes more lustrous. The more you snowblade the more you feel it, girls start taking an interest in you, kids start looking up to you.

You use them more and more, addicted to the lifestyle they've brought you. Before you know it you're blowing lines off strippers' titties in the VIP room, drinking Don Perrion. High up ski reps are talking to you, telling you why you should ride for their company. You're stomping pillow lines and dub cork 12s with ease.

The success goes to your head, you're never seen without your snowblades. Your eyes look a little sunken and the dark circles grow more prominent. You grow paranoid, every girl who talks to you just wants a piece of your success, all the ski reps are trying to trick you into a bad deal, the feds are after your blades.

You seclude yourself, just you and your blades. They're your only friend, only they understand you, they'll be with you forever. You rent out entire mountains for the day so you can ski blade in peace. Your agents start to get concerned, you're not pleasing the public anymore. they stop helping you so you retreat to the backcountry. Nourishment is secondary, all that matters are your snowblades and shredding the gnar hardcore. Before you know it you're an urban legend. "They say on cloudy days, if you travel too far off the beaten track, you can see him bladin through the trees, shreddin up gnar lines. Sticks and coagulated animal blood in his beard and hair." "I heard, if he catches you he eats your guts and wears your skin to keep warm"

Finally after living in the woods for god-knows-how-long, you venture out into civilization, scaring civilians, but really you're more afraid of them then they are of you. Mothers cover their children's eyes, babies cry. You feel dejected and you look down at your snowblades in your hands. You think about all they've brought you and you start to cry tears of passion and unfathomable pain. A cry that only a wildebeest, orphaned after a pack of lions brutally raped and murdered his family out of cold blood -not for food-, leaving him lying in his parents' bloody carcasses.

You see a trash can and take one last look of longing and hatred at your snowblades before dropping them in and walking away. You walk off into the sunset, thinking about the future to come, a blank slate. You know that the wound left will never fully heal, but you walk away a stronger man, a man who will carry with him forever the joys and burdens of his past.
 
Fuck, I left off the end of the line: "A cry that only a wildebeest, orphaned after a pack of lions brutally raped and murdered his family out of cold blood -not for food-, leaving him lying in his parents' bloody carcasses."

It should read: "A cry that only a wildebeest, orphaned after a pack of lions brutally raped and murdered his family out of cold blood -not for food-, leaving him lying in his parents' bloody carcasses would know."

 
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