Utah Windriders Association

The defunct monolith stands as a relic of times gone by. Abandoned by the society it was created to serve, If one looks closely they might make out a faded symbol high on it's walls... "K-Mart". But this lonely place now serves as a ritual grounds for the wind warriors of the modern day. I meet my comrade in arms once again in it's wicked confines. I arrive to see the sleek silver lines of the grocery getter already standing alone in the center of the huge arena. Ready for battle. For it's cargo holds no groceries, instead it hosts a quiver of time sharpened weapons. On it's space-age aluminum carriage perches a fine looking beast, a 450 pound machine boasting the power of 150 horses. It sits forward on it's haunches, eager for the battle ahead. We combine forces, taking stock of machine and weapon, picking our tools carefully, and merging into one efficient element. Words are not needed, we've been here before. Whether for glory or carnage, we are ready, and we're off. Headed toward the battlefield the senses become ever more alert. A movement in the bushes, a jerk of the head and widening of the eyes. Glass on the lake and a contemplative grimace. We waiver. Is this a good idea? But we have a well laid plan… and we must must be confident if we are to be victorious. We trudge onward. The loads are heavy as we strap them to the beasts. But the beasts are not burdened, they are of a fine French-Canadian breed, renowned for their strength and prowess. They scream furiously as we charge toward the battleground. Anxiety strengthens. Suddenly we are upon it. We share a knowing glance, this is going to be a good one. We withdraw our favorite weapons. The battle flashes like a dream. At times we are blinded by the elements, but the battle does not cease. When a ray basks the field in it's light, we strike with unrelenting fury. We howl like lunatics. It is on! And then it's over. The beasts carry us out slowly in the twilight. Our senses are dulled, our muscles drained. We return to the monolith, where my rig stands alone in the wicked lamplight. Darkness all around. We part ways, exiting our arena in separate directions. And there the monolith still glows dimly, alone in it's hazy luminescence, awaiting our return.

Nice, stuff...
one of the best Lake Creek days EVER..
I looked over once, to see a jump gone bad by Matt,
and it was so deep there,
all I could see was lines out of the snow to his kite above this hole in the snow.
HE WAS BURIED in the deep pow.
I almos cried when we had to leave
I really didn't want the day to end.