I find myself standing there in that same spot I have stood so many times before. Here at the top of the hill looking over the run. You can see a beaten dust path as it winds its way down the hill. There are many ramps and jumps of many shapes and sizes. I stand here at the top of the hill on this warm sunny day with the breeze bringing in the summer air. The grass is green and soft, ready to catch you as you fall. I stand there at the top of the hill anticipating the feeling of flying though the trees and off ramps at phenomenal speeds. But yet there is always that fear. That fear of doing something wrong and smashing into the ground with the dust flying and you bouncing across the ground like a rag doll.
Now is the time, the time to go, the time to start my mad kamikaze run down the hill. I throw my feet in the bindings and slowly begin to creep my way over the crest of the hill. I start to gain speed as I continue down hill. Before I know it I'm moving at an incredible rate. There is a dust cloud forming behind me as I zigzag though the trees; as they create a picket fence look among them. There is a breeze in my face as I glide over the bumps and rocks beneath my feet.
Then there it is, about ten feet ahead. The place of glory and triumph, pain and despair. The place where you can defy the laws of gravity for several seconds. The place where you take flight and soar like a bird and have the feeling of weightlessness. This place of pleasure and pain is my ramp.
My ramp is not just a mire mound of dirt, but a mound of dirt shaped perfectly. My ramp is two feet high and curved just a little for that extra bit of air. My ramp will put anyone five feet above the earth with the greatest of ease. My ramp is a ramp of dreams.
It's getting nearer. BUT WAIT! What shall I do? Do I reach with my backhand grabbing the deck between my toes for an "Indy"? Or do I go for the tail grab, reaching for the back truck and pointing the nose down? I know, I'll do "the method". Oh the method, beautiful yet technical, deadly and complicated.
I'm here now. I'm at the foot. I'm at the foot of the mountain, the mountain I call my ramp. Here I go, to late to turn back. Up the ramp and into the stratosphere. I go for the method. I bend my knees making my shins parallel to the ground. I reach back grabbing my deck between my heels. I have done it, I have completed the method. The feeling of nothing around me has set in. A sense of levitation takes affect with the ground beneath me and the sky above me. The ground is getting closer as I fall to the ground. I straighten my legs and prepare for impact. I land with the greatest of ease. The dust starts flying once again and the wheels continue their rotation around the axle.
The trees are flying by now and the dust is making its way into my mouth. The dirt has a gritty texture and dries out the saliva within my mouth. I continue my journey to the bottom of the hill. I finally reach it and the sweat starts to form on my face. Now I stand there at the bottom of the hill looking back upon the triumphs and tragedies that have occurred on it. I think back visualizing myself coming down that great hill hitting every jump and trick possible. At that moment I realize how much I really love the sport of mountainboarding and I hope that I will never have to quit this sport that brings such joy and happiness, excitement and triumph.
~Andrew Kelley~
