It s a cold evening in Montana s Anaconda Pintlers range, but the RV is a diesel-fueled oasis in Discovery s vacant parking lot. Slayer blasts over the din of the generator. Over a makeshift table strewn with metal CDs, ski mags, and Discovery trail maps, tomorrow s strategies are debated. Get the youth of Discovery Basin to defect to our camp, and mayhem is sure to ensue. Bryce asks, without masking his disappointment.
Chad asks with a malicious grin.
Proceed with evasive action. The morning dawn is cold and gray. Pitcher is nowhere to be found, and the team proceeds to Discovery s vaunted backside a well-pitched bowl of considerable vertical that hasn t seen snow in weeks. Fortunately, the Canucks aren t scared of car-sized bumps. By lunchtime, no less than 10 of Discovery s little grommets are lined up behind Chad and Bryce, who are sizing up a kicker at the bottom of the bowl, much to the horror of their parents waiting with baited breath below.