Bill Jennings: Tumultuous FlowRider lessons woes of ski season’s end

In online snow reports Sunday morning, the ski areas remaining open hinted that another weekend of operations was not a sure thing. Feeling restless with the ski season hanging by a thread, I decided to head to the beach – with my skis. No, I hadn’t finally lost my mind as a side effect of powder deprivation. Silver Mountain made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I accepted it.

The resort’s Sunday Ski and Surf Special lets you arrive at noon for some afternoon turns on the mountain, and then play in the Silver Rapids Waterpark until 7 p.m. – for $29.

The water park was built to serve as an amenity for guests in the resort’s Morningstar Lodge. It’s not often open to the skiing public. But in this warm, dry winter of our discontent, ski areas are trying to attract customers in unconventional ways. I got the deal the last day it was available – unless the resort decides to extend the offer. If it gets people like me to go skiing when they otherwise wouldn’t, why not?

Not having to show up until noon, I slept late and pursued my adventure leisurely. After driving up and over Fourth of July Pass, I pulled off the interstate for a late breakfast at one of my favorite small town establishments: the Mission Inn in Cataldo.

Not having a cholesterol care in the world, I ordered the chicken fried steak. The spirit of living dangerously also compelled me to order a side of biscuits and gravy. They’re homemade, after all.

I wasn’t expecting much from the skiing, but simply standing on boards and making a few turns would be enough to keep my day going well. The conditions at Silver Mountain reminded me of one of those days in May when the resort stays open on Saturdays, as long as people keep showing up. By the time I hit the snow, most of those who did show up were already gone.

The sloppy corn off the summit of Kellogg Peak was fun to plow through. But at lower elevations, remaining snow turned to sticky glue – about the only bad feeling you can possibly have on skis. After a few runs, I had skied all that was skiable. It was time to hit the beach.

Outside in Kellogg it was a pleasant spring afternoon. Inside the cavernous water park, the climate changed abruptly to summer – a humid 84 degrees. The slides, sluices and activity pools there are intended mostly for families with young children, except for one. My attention was focused on the FlowRider.

The FlowRider is a simulated surfing wave, with some key differences from the real thing. An ocean wave pushes you along on your board. The FlowRider comes straight at you. Pumps inject about 60,000 gallons of water per minute into a 3-inch sheet moving at 35 miles per hour, up an incline about 25 feet wide and 40 feet long. Thick padding surrounds the contraption.

To ride this wave, you have to enter the stream, maintain balance and control the board’s resistance to the energy of the flow. It takes a lot of practice. A few years ago I took a FlowRider lesson and learned to cinch my drawstring very tight. When you fall, which happens quickly and often, the force of the water squib kicks you like a football into the padding. It happens so fast, with so much power, it can yank your swimsuit clean off.

My last experience with the FlowRider left me slightly battered, and seriously humbled. Nothing had changed for me this time around. After a few punts into the padding, I settled for riding a body board while I still had a few shreds of dignity intact.

I ended the day enjoying a pale ale in one of the hot tubs at the bar. My attention wandered from a basketball game on the TV overhead, to watching people – at their expense and to my amusement – feel the FlowRider’s wrath. Alas, no one lost his or her suit.

At the time, I thought that if the ski season had to end this way, it could be a lot worse. But a few inches of snow have fallen in the mountains this week, so we have been granted a reprieve. It isn’t quite over yet.