Skis, snowboards and Lake Superior.

The northern winter deprives me of rock climbing, my favorite outdoor activity. This year, instead of pouting and waiting for the snow to melt, I seized the season as a chance to expand my recreational repertoire. My plan: learn to snowboard with lessons and advice courtesy of six ski areas in the Northern Wilds and transform into a slope-shredding mountain goddess.

First step: face the bunny hill.

Magic Carpet Ride

I headed to Spirit Mountain in Duluth for a “Learn to Ride” session. Learn to Ride is a program developed by the snowboarding gear company Burton to educate and encourage newbies. My session took place on Spirit Mountain’s gentle beginner area (generically called a “bunny hill”).

My instructor, Pat, walked me through basic skills like getting my boots laced, moving around on flat ground with a snowboard, and navigating the “magic carpet” that shuttles beginners to the top of the hill. I mentally dubbed him “Patient Pat.”

We moved on to more exciting things like carving, stopping and balance. I learned that flailing your arms like a demented windmill won’t keep you from falling over. I also learned that, if you’re a nervous novice snowboarder, every hill looks tall and steep, whether it’s a bunny hill or one of the three green runs at Mount Baldy in Thunder Bay.

Lift Envy

The gondola climbs Moose Mountain.

At Mont du Lac Recreation in Superior, my young but proficient instructor gave me additional coaching in the art of carving, riding diagonally downhill with one board edge slicing the snow. At one point, I snagged the wrong edge. I prat-falled backward, landing squarely on my tailbone. Oof.

The sting subsided after a minute. Still, I started to think padding would be nice–specifically, one of those novelty inflatable sumo suits.

“When snowboarding, I definitely recommend wearing a helmet and wrist guards,” says Sara Meikoe, ski school director at Loch Lomond Ski Area in Thunder Bay. Wrist injuries are one of the most common snowboarding injuries.

Now and then, experienced skiers and snowboarders would fly down the periphery of the beginner hill on their way to a lift, a sight both inspiring and discouraging. Though I was making progress, I despaired of reaching that level.

Would I ever graduate to a grown-up hill?

Author excited to take another crack at Big Bunny.

Attitude Adjustment

Before my next outing, I donned wrist guards, knee pads, and a strip of foam over my tailbone. I didn’t swaddle myself in bubble wrap because I didn’t have any.

The wide bunny hill at Giants Ridge in Biwabik sported two inches of fresh powder that day, which made carving easier and wiping out gentler. The instructor praised my plop-on-secretly-padded-butt falling technique. “You’ve got a very good instinct for self-preservation,” he said. The eldest of my assortment of snowboard instructors, he inspired me by sharing that he had learned to ride seven years earlier—at age 56.

By the end of the lesson, I could regulate my speed, stop consistently and even link turns, albeit in a somewhat wobbly fashion.

“Let the hill do the work,” the instructor reminded me, “but remember that you’re in charge.” He encouraged me to cultivate a “snowboarder attitude.”

Queen of the Hill

A light snow was falling at Lutsen Mountains in Lutsen, Minn. I buckled my helmet—a new addition to my protective arsenal—and met my instructor, Derek, who had me strut my stuff in the learner area.

I carved. I sped up. I slowed down. I stopped. Satisfaction surged through me. I wanted to shout, “I’m the queen of the bunny hill!”

Derek deemed me ready for something bigger. We rode a lift up Ullr Mountain, home of friendly runs like the reassuringly named Big Bunny.

“You will know you’re ready to try something harder when you feel confident and you have your basic turns down,” says Meikoe.

I didn’t feel much confidence. The first time down, I was quaking despite the expert guidance. But on each subsequent run I got bolder and better. After the lesson, I ran Big Bunny again and again, carving the wide tongue of snow. Every little skill I had learned came together. A huge grin lit my face as I swooped laughing down the mountain, dancing a swift tango with gravity.