• Preview
• Cross-Country
• Short Track Cross-Country & Dual Slalom
• Downhill

	click

Triple digit temps pried at my pores as we raced through Salt Lake City, Utah, and into the Wasatch Mountains. It was scorching; my legs were sticking to the upholstery as I fumbled with the GPS unit that was so conveniently mounted on the dashboard of our rental car. Not only does the Hertz Neverlost steer you in the right direction, but it displays the street you're on and the direction you are heading. Welcome to the new millennium people — you're being watched.

We pulled into Park City, craving a cool drink — preferably an alcoholic beverage. We entered the first drinking establishment in sight and were promptly asked for our memberships? I'd heard such rumors about Utah, but never really believed them. The bartender went on to explain what we were up against.

"Being a snowboarder, I wouldn't normally be allowed to ride the lifts at Deer Valley, but I'm in disguise...and yes, I'm holding a grudge..."

You can find a stiff drink in Utah at a restaurant or a private club. Since we weren't so concerned with food, we'd entered the latter of the two.

State law prohibits smoking inside public establishments, so bars are coined "clubs," and their relaxed rules allow patrons to get their nicotine fixes; however, a membership is required or you can find a member who will sponsor you. I didn't want to join a club — I wanted a stout.

From across the bar, a kind soul saw our desperation and gave the bartender a nod. Suddenly we were new members of the clubhouse and soon enough I was swilling my first of several 3.2 brews.

Closing time rolled around and we began the zig zag home where we found the Park City Police breaking up house parties. They didn't seem to mind the youths having shopping cart races in the parking lot of Rite Aid, nor were they concerned with the two belligerent locals scrapping in the street. We were far from rebellious when we broke into the hotel pool later that evening.

	click

Eventually, sleep settled in and Thursday morning brought intense temperatures. I peeled myself out of bed and Riley and I headed over to Deer Valley Ski Area for the real reason we're in Utah — NORBA of course. Being the host resort, the parking lot was full of bright lycra, knobby tires and flashy team trailers.

I hopped aboard the only spinning lift which whisked me to the top of the downhill course. Being a snowboarder, I wouldn't normally be allowed to ride the lifts at Deer Valley, but I'm in disguise...and yes, I'm holding a grudge.

As I walked the downhill course, I thought I'd stumbled upon a bank heist. NORBA is in full force and kicking up enough dust to force course marshals to cover their faces with bandanas, giving it that "Wild West" atmosphere.

Friday, the future Olympians make mad laps around the cross-country course during the marathon of mountain biking. Saturday hosts the short track cross-country (painful) followed by the SoBe dual slalom. Riders attempt to break the sound barrier on Sunday, when the armor-clad downhill racers reach silly speeds.

I'm sizing up a three-story cannonball from our hotel balcony. If you need me, I'll be poolside.

— Lucas Kane, off the deep end for MountainZone.com