3/10 Probs at Strawbs-- a limerick

[Travis Cook]

Probs at Strawbs

From dawn, I waited like a champ,
for the forecast from Kenny the savant.
He's led us aright to wind that would light,
And switch on the bliss like a lamp.

So I jumped in my ride for Strawbs,
Not knowing I was headed for probs.
I searched high and low for a puff or a blow
And nearly broke down into sobs.

The river, marina, and Chicken Creek East,
the fresh pow and some turns would be sweet.
But the flags were all still and no kites on the hill,
Riding today might be a feat.

On US40 I paused and I waited
but my hopes were quickly deflated,
Two guys at the River toiled with only a limp foil.
Heading up to Daniel's really grated.

But lo! Near the summit a puff!
It could probably be enough,
I unfolded the 13.5 and with the pump did I jive,
I was raring to carve up the slough.

No air! No pressure! Not a trace.
Despite my red face.
My pump was all cracked and totally jacked.
and no backup plan was in place.

In my throat a huge lump,
And feeling quite the chump.
I packed up my kite with a bit of keen spite
I've never been skunked by a pump.