Sitting up on top of the small mountain I looked down the slope, watching the others move gracefully under the influence of gravity. It didn't look so hard. It looked as though all I had to do was get on my feet, point myself in the right direction and let go. "No problem," I thought to myself.

But then I looked down directly at my feet which were strapped to a board about three feet long and perhaps 12 inches wide. It wasn't the board that gave me second thoughts. Nor was it the fact that my feet were basically nailed to this board. What got me was that my feet were actually hanging over an edge. Up till this point I had had no edges to go over. There were just these gentle slopes upon which I would sit down, or recover from crashing as the case may be, get my bearings, stand up and gradually move along all the while trying to keep my feet under me. It was all rather challenging but was nothing that couldn't be conquered with some time and patients, and it was all by no means scary.

But this was scary. Here I was at the top of the hill, three ski-lifts up, with my feet nailed to a plank of wood and dangling over an edge. "How the hell did I get here?" I thought, "And why did I agree to this?"

Earlier in the day, Tomoko, Yuki, Amy and I had driven the two plus hours to the next prefecture over, Nagano. Nagano is quite famous for its skiing facilities. In fact, the Winter Olympics were held somewhere in Nagano a few years ago. Tomoko had picked out a place called Echo Valley which she and Yuki had been to before. It was a nice area with two lifts in one direction and three in the other. When we arrived, there were already people coming down the run that we could see from the parking lot and although it looked steep, it looked fun. I had no intention of actually being good at snowboarding, this thought based on my past experiences of skiing and skateboarding, but I was game to give it a try. I also had no intention of going to the top of what I was now looking at. It looked damn steep and if you followed it to the bottom you could see buildings and people. "How do you stop?" I thought to myself, noticing that they hadn't bothered to install, in front of the buildings, one of those nets that catches crippled planes trying to land on a aircraft carrier. "Could be a long day," I thought.

So we made our way to one of those buildings in attempt to rent everything needed for snowboarding except courage. It was quite easy to rent what we needed thanks to Tomoko and Yuki's Japanese abilities and soon we exited the building looking like a couple of snowboarders but feeling more like a couple of crash test dummies.

"So where do we get the lift tickets?" I asked Tomoko.

"Uh, don't you want to practice first?" she said to me in a kind of Yoda-esque, all-knowing way.

"Right. That would probably be a good idea."

So we walked up the hill a short way with our boards under our arms watching the other snowboarders make it all look so easy. Some were better than others, sure, but for the most part they were graceful, and fast, and most importantly, able to maintain that vertical posture needed for nearly all human endeavors (nearly all).

About a hundred or so yards up the hill, we sat down and Yuki and Tomoko showed us how to strap the boards to our feet. It was at this point that it truly hit me how hard this might be. Normally people are able to move their feet independently of each other as need be in order to catch their balance. Try standing still and having someone push you over and you might notice that you'll usually move either just one foot to regain balance or, if you move two, you will move them separately. Now try standing on one foot with your other foot tied up around your rear and have someone push you over. You will instantly notice that it is much harder to maintain balance. This is akin to what it's like on a snowboard, and I think having two legs shows the genius that is evolution. Animals with four legs are even better at this balance thing.

So with our feet now strapped in and the hill beckoning to be conquered, Amy and I looked at each other. "Well?" I said to her.

"You go first," she predictably said to me.

So I did. Or rather, I tried. I tried standing and was able to maintain balance for less than a second as I moved three inches down the hill and resumed the seated position. "Well," I thought, "that wasn't so hard." So I got up again and was able to increase my personal best by two inches. Then again, another inch. At this point I noticed that Amy was laughing but more disturbing was the fact that I could still see her snowboard without looking behind me. "Gonna take all day," I said, "just to get back to the rental shack."

At this point, I changed my plan of attack to one that involved me simply squatting as I tried to keep the board under me. This tactic worked better and from my three foot high vantage point, I could see the bottom of the hill, along with all the people and buildings, getting closer at a faster and faster rate. And then when I felt satisfied and decided that I didn't want to endanger the lives of those below I simply executed a controlled crash. "Alright! I can stop." Amy and her board were now behind me a ways and as I looked back she, Tomoko and Yuki gave me the thumbs up signal.

As I unstrapped and made my way back up from whence I came, Amy was giving it a go. Tomoko was helping her and although there was much laughing it was obvious that Amy was having a difficult time. "Keeping her feet under her?" you ask? No. Standing.

So as they worked on posture, I went a little higher than before and strapped in. Yuki was going up and down and helping me out where need be. She was really my little snow angel on this day as, despite the absence of actual spoken language, she taught me to do many things: how to strap in, how to unstrap, how to get on the lifts, how to get off, etc. And she was always smiling. And, get this, her name, Yuki, means "snow" in Japanese. Perfect.

After about a half hour, I had made the short trek up and down this small section a few times, Amy had done it perhaps twice, and then Tomoko asked us if we were ready to get lift tickets and go halfway up. At this Amy and I looked up the beast of a mountain. I was game, Amy less so, but we agreed that we'd have to try it at some point. So we practiced a bit more and our guides went to get the passes.

Now, in skiing and snowboarding there is probably one aspect that scares people more than any other. Crashing into a tree? No. Crashing into another person? No. Going off a cliff and falling to your death? Nope. Well, then?......The lifts; namely getting off the lifts. I'm not sure exactly why this is but I can speculate that it must have something to do with embarrassment. Seems that humans in general would rather suffer major injury or even death than be confronted with embarrassment. On ski slopes there are many places to get hurt, many people to run into, many different ways to crash. But for the most part, if you crash coming down the mountain it's perfectly acceptable, for, at least you are trying something that involves speed and takes skill and concentration. But if you crash getting off the lifts, it is an entirely different thing. People are always watching the lift exits, you aren't being asked to get off at the speed of sound, and it really takes no great skill to be able to do so. So falling when trying to exit a lift seems to be the most feared aspect of the sport among rookies.

These were the thoughts going through my head as I sat with Yuki on the two seater lift. We had all agreed that Amy would need some English instruction, thus, she was with Tomoko. About halfway up Yuki made it clear to me that I should angle my board straight ahead, step in the middle of the board with my rear foot, then use the chair itself to stabilize myself, and then, when I had good balance and my weight was on the board and not the chair, lightly push off. All of this was explained to me using gestures and perhaps two or three English words, but I got the idea fairly easily. How many ways can there be to get off a ski-lift? So we moved slowly up the hillside and approached our landing zone. Tomoko and Amy had been in front of us and, surprisingly enough, it looked as though Amy had made it off in good form; now it was my turn. Somehow, though, the speed of the lift seemed to speed up. Not that this was true; it was probably just the point of reference factor with the ground getting closer and closer that made it appear as if we were speeding up, but as I touched down and transferred my weight from ass to feet, I somehow lost my balance slightly and with my rear foot not strapped in, I reached it out in attempt to right myself only to find that my lead foot was gliding along the snow quite nicely. In the end it was a near disaster but somehow I managed to crouch down and glide to safety on the one foot with my other lightly dragging behind. Not a graceful moment, but at least I didn't cause a lift stoppage.

Now the four of us were halfway up the two lift slope. It was probably about 300 meters long and was a nice gentle slope down to the buildings. Although it was, indeed, a nice gentle slope, from this vantage point it looked rather formidable considering Amy's and my lack of extensive snowboard testing. To me it looked like it would be a difficult time, fraught with a few crashes, a few close calls, and possibly even a concussion. But to Amy I think it looked damn near impossible. "This doesn't look safe," she said more than once in her wise, old-before-her-time way. But "safety" is a relative term and after a few moments of deliberating and making sure the coast was clear from the slope behind us, I got to my feet and was on my way.

I must have made it at least six feet before crashing; for, I could still hear the sound of Amy's voice saying, "That was good, honey!" as I wiped the snow from my forehead. "Yeah, thanks," I said giving her a big smile and getting back to my feet. And this time I went.

I went far, relatively speaking, of course. I went all the way across the slope holding my speed steady and staying in that now much sought after vertical position. It was hard to stay up and I had to control the angle of the board carefully, but I managed to stay up and move along at an angle to the hill until I got to the other side of the run. Turning was something I hadn't practiced much and figured I'd learn eventually, the first challenge being to stay up, of course, so here I was approaching the other side of the run thinking to myself, "Hmmmm, now what do I do when I get to that point?" So I did what any snowboard rookie would have done in my position, I executed my, by now, much practiced, controlled crash.

I looked back up the hill towards the girls. They were still sitting where I had left them. I was out of ear shot but I saw Amy clapping her hands above her head and waving. Yes, I was her hero.

But although she had watched me, she obviously hadn't taken notes, because she was still having trouble standing. Tomoko and Yuki were being very patient with her and I sat and watched for a while. Up, down, up, down, up, down she went. I wasn't sure what the problem was and I am still not exactly sure, but it seems to me that it was more of a mental thing for her. I have deduced, from logical thinking on the subject, from my own observations that day, and from my many interviews with her afterwards, that she was under the false impression that it is possible, at least as a rookie, to standup without moving. And what I mean by that is that she wanted to stand without sliding down the mountain even so much as an inch. She wanted to stand, get her bearings and balance, and then begin her slow descent of the mountain. But as I had quickly found out in our initial trials, that was just not possible. You had to be willing to stand while sliding. That was just the way it was. But, alas, my poor Amy just couldn't get it.

This is not to say that she didn't ever get up. She was able to get up a few times on her own and a few times with my help. And once up, she was able to control her speed and maintain balance pretty well. On this first run from the end of a lift, I had gone all the way down after crashing a few times while practicing my turning, and then decided to walk back up to where Amy was (she was still halfway up). When I got up there she was giving me the old, "Honey, I just can't stand! I can't do it!" So I listened for a while and then helped her up. And wouldn't you know, I stood there and watched her go all the way down to the end and somehow control her speed well enough so that she didn't hit any people or buildings. She looked like and angel floating down the hillside, albeit a drunk angel but an angel nonetheless. "Well done," I thought and then crashed as I attempted to get down to her.

After lunch Tomoko and I went to get me a halfday lift pass. She and Yuki had already bought theirs and we all decided that Amy would probably be ok with the single passes we had gotten earlier in the day. So we rode two lifts up the three lift run and separated. Tomoko and Yuki went to the top upon Amy's and my insistence that they not babysit us all day long, and Amy and I began our slow descent.

Amy was still having a hard time getting up, but once up, she did pretty well. She just maintained that slow, steady, board-at-a-perpendicular-angle-to-the-hill method that I am sure all newbies to snowboarding employ and did ok. We both fell a few times but it was all in good fun and none of it really hurt. At one point I even helped my girl get to her feet, then got to my feet, and then promptly, after about a hundred yards to steady going, crashed into her. "Why did you do that?!" she asked me, half yelling, half laughing, "You know how hard it is for me to get up!"

"I got you up, I can take you down," was my response. Hell, I had crashed too. It wasn't like I meant to use her as brakes.

At one point on our descent something potentially disturbing happened. Amy were stopped on the side of the run when we heard a siren-like sound coming from up the mountain. I wondered what it was all about but didn't think too much about it and we continued talking, all the while the siren getting closer and closer. Eventually it was coming down our run and we both looked up to see two snowmobiles, one following the other. "Guess someone got hurt," I said to Amy, but then we noticed, as they passed us, that the first snowmobile was not only dragging a bodyboard sled, but that the apparent person on this sled was completely wrapped in the tarp, as in bodybag style.

"Did someone die?!" Amy asked me, probably ready, yet again, to remind me how unsafe this whole sport was.

"No, no," I told her, "They probably just have the person wrapped up so that snow doesn't get kicked up on 'em." This I said as I thought to myself, "Shit, man, that's a dead body!"

Now, we will never know the true contents, or the state of those contents, in that bag but it sure as hell looked to me like it was dead body. "I hope that's not Tomoko or Yuki," I thought to myself, "That would really put a damper on the day."

But soon we recovered our thoughts to the matter at hand and continued down the mountain. Amy did well and I was doing well and the sun was shining while six year old kids went roaring by. I was getting better at turning, but not too much so, and Amy was getting better at maintaining an upright position.

So the rest of the day went well for me, Amy never did quite warm up to the whole thing, though she has agreed to do it all again at some point in the future, and I went up a few times by myself and descended the mountain practicing balance and direction and speed control. It was all very challenging and physically tough, but it was fun.

So now, after being talked into it by Tomoko, here I was at the top of the three lift run. It was getting close to the end of the day, the lifts would be closing soon, and here I was, faced with my biggest challenge of the day. At this point getting off the lifts was pretty easy, maintaining a consistent speed was pretty easy, and keeping my balance on those lower runs was pretty easy. Turning was still a challenge but I was slowly getting there; perhaps this would be the descent upon which I learned.

But I still had to get over this edge. Tomoko was sitting next to me and looked over. "Don't push yourself," she said, perhaps not realizing that just being here was already a push for me. Yuki had already shoved off and Tomoko was waiting for me. "Well, gotta do it sooner or later," I thought and tried to get to my feet. I did manage to get to my feet but then managed to lose it under the unfamiliar angle of the mountainside and fell back. I slid for a few seconds with my arms outstretched and then stopped. "This is steep!" I said to myself and then tried again. But again I was on my back within a second or two. "How in the hell...?" and I was up again, this time, for a few seconds more. Then I was down again. I was definitely erring on the side of caution when it came to crashing as I kept falling backwards. Falling forwards would have resulted in more pain and more sliding. But I just kept getting back up, sometimes not even allowing myself to stop before popping back up to have another go at standing. It was challenging, it was hard, it was even a bit frustrating, but it was damn fun. Tomoko was also descending and was passing me, stopping and then allowing me to pass her, and every time I passed her, her face seemed to say "Well, he's still alive and trying." And I was.

So I managed to get down the steep part through a combination of crashing, sliding, and at times actually snowboarding. After that it was all easy. Not to say that I kept my feet the entire time but I did pretty well, avoided killing any children, never needed snowmobile assistance, and made it all the way back down to Amy who took a picture of me as I fell right in front of her and for the last time of the day.

Amy and I have both agreed that we'd do this again. I think that with some reflection Amy has realized that she can, indeed, stand up and that she just has to accept that she's going to move while doing so. She's a very cautious girl, which might be a good thing, but I think she'll be much better next time.

As for me, I just need more practice. I don't plan to ever be the stuntman on the hillside, but I do enjoy speed and would love to get fairly good at this. Anyway, thanks to Tomoko and Yuki, I got to snowboard for the first time, and in Japan. Bit strange that my first attempt at skiing was also in Japan about 20 years ago. But that was an entirely different experience where I broke a ski and decided that winter sports were not for me. Maybe snowboarding will bring me back around.