Nathans crash

We ran into our friend, Brad. His board was bright orange, his coat metallic yellow. He asked us if he could join us, his warm breath created a steamy cloud around his mouth.

“Hey, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“All day,” I said. “We found a huge cliff up the Cascade run. Do you want to come see?”

Nathan kicked the snow off his board. “I saw some nerds looking at it, but I knew they wouldn’t jump, but I’m hard core, so I’m going to,” he said.

As we took the lift, the wind carried hard snowflakes into our faces. As we climbed higher and higher, it got colder and colder. We had to put our hoods on and cover our faces with our masks.

Brad was sitting in the middle. Nathan and I teased him about not keeping up with us. “Well, at least I’ll go home alive,” he said.

“Well, at least we’ll have fun, geek,” Nathan said.

“You gotta take chances in life, Buddy,” I said to Brad. “What are you afraid of? Don’t you wanna be like me?”

“Shut up, Nick, you ain’t tough,”

“I’ll bet you 10 bucks he biffs,” said Brad, anticipating a good show.

He fell into the powder in pain and disappointment. “You’re stupid,” he said.

At the top of Cascade ski lift, the highest at Meadows, with the sky blue and clear we could see the high mountain peaks in Central Oregon, like Three Sisters and Mt. Jefferson. The desert land sprawled out miles away to the east, dry and parched, a stark contrast from where we were, frosty white and cold. When we looked west we could see all the green forests and the tall Portland skyscrapers.

I said, “You know this means you’re going to have to do it again, right?”

“No,” I said, “the camera didn’t work.”

Brad and I dug into the soft snow like soldiers ready for battle. Brad screamed in joy, much like a little girl. “Shut up, geek,” I said to him. He just screamed louder.

We all flew down the mountain then got back on the lift. Nathan reminded me to make sure the camera worked this time.

Some topics in this essay:
Mt Jefferson, Hood Meadows, Buddy” Brad, brad dug, , “i’ll bet,