Dead Leg IV
March 8th 1997 Last run of the day, fading light, a quick joint and then drop into untouched snow between dark green trees.
Powder fizzes as your board cuts over it, and we were riding fast, snaking tight, blind corners through trees.
Fizz- Turn - Swoosh - Cut - my stomach was up in my throat, gripped in concentration as me and Oli raced down the dense forest.
Oli shot off to the left, i took a right
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