Dwyer’s been absent from almost all of the FIS posts this winter. And for good reason, his schussing skills have progressed to the point where he skis so quickly that he is nearly impossible to catch on film. OR. And this is the more likely scenario, he gets so remarkably deep that it’s impossible to verify his presence in any reports. He’s become the UFO of the Wasatch – The Unidentifiable Faceshot Obtainer. Dwyer’s never refused a faceshot, and doesn’t plan to start declining them in the foreseeable future. Unlike most UFOs – we know who this powder criminal is – we just can’t verify his existence. That is, until now.
Sleuthing around the Wasatch, camera in hand, I found what I thought were frames of the masked powder pillager, yet when I returned home, I couldn’t tell for sure. Here, see for yourself.
And again, I shot what I thought would amount to a crisp, clear sighting, and nothing.
I even snuck up behind him, but alas all I could see were his top sheets!
These time tested ski photography techniques were not working. All of the sudden I knew what all the loonies (not Canadian dollar notes) felt like, they knew they’d seen UFOs, they just didn’t have any proof!
So I resorted to a new technique. A yodeled into the wild, thick Wasatch forest, and with my best yodeling voice I said, “Young Dwyer, come out of the woods and stop being a poward [powder coward]. Show yourself.” And, I heard back, almost immediately, “Yee shall be rewarded with the gift of my powder presence on one condition – if and only if, you agree to buy me as many Chicken Wings as I can consumer at the Iron Blossom.” Promptly, I agreed, for what else was I going to do, shoot artsy shadows all day?
One. Two. Buckaroo. Dwyer put the Famous, into Famous Internet Skiers right from the start.
He kept on coming until it was almost certain he’d shellack the lens with snow.
A quick brotherly rendezvous occurred. Dwyer repenting from his curmudgeoness, and myself welcoming him back into the fray. He quickly set the agenda for the afternoon — proceeding to Dwyer’s private powder knob in the distance.
So this is where he’s been hiding. He didn’t want me dilly dallying, nor taking pictures of the entrance to his hidden mountain. I only scraped together one shot of the journey to this faceshot obtainer’s home.
The day was drawing to a close, and the sun was low on the horizon. Just enough time for one lap through this heavenly place. Dwyer figured if he was going to be on camera, he’d do it justice, damn it! And so he did.
Dwyer find one last ribbon of light, and shredded the heck out of it. Shredding lessons in.
One last glimpse was caught on camera. It’s been passed around a few of the quieter spots on the inter-webz, so if you’ve seen it, pardon me. If you haven’t it’s been likened to Hermann Maier downhill fall in Nagano.
Except. Dwyer didn’t crash. Reeled it right in and kept skiing, like the champion he is. Here’s to verifiable, yet hard to find skiers who know how to get deep, and stay there!
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