As the week progressed, the eight guest testers casually fell into the ski test routine along with the pros. For three days, we were like one giant, well-oiled machine. Unfortunately, the machine had to be taken down and its parts sent to different parts of the globe. SKI had staggered our arrival time one day after the pros to give 
them, I imagine, at least one day of amateur-free testing. When I walked into the lodge for breakfast on our fourth and final morning, the atmosphere was not as energized as it had been the previous days.
The mood was somber, almost sad. The friends we had made were gone. In just a few short hours we would be heading back to reality as well and this wonderful experience would be nothing more than a memory. Despite the change in scenery, we pressed on. Outside waiting for us were blue skies, 11 inches of overnight fresh, and an entire category of skis just waiting to be tested.
I was the first to reach the top of Sterling Express. This was going to be my 37th run and I was deeply entrenched in my own routine. I skied down to my usual starting spot, tightened up my boots, and secured my clothing. I stood motionless for a while listening to the unending barrage at Park City and staring longingly at the perfectly groomed lines that seemed to go on forever. I was tempted to stay there perpetually, daring anyone who approached to poach my lines.
A small group was congregating off to my right as I soaked in the sun and took in the crisp mountain air. In the middle of the pack was Wayne Wong, the freestyle skiing pioneer of the "Hot Doggin" 1970s. Until that moment, the "Wong Banger" had only existed in movies and on the pages of SKI Magazine. Suddenly the untracked corduroy didn't seem as important. I skied over to talk to him.
"What's happening Wayne?"
"I'm sorry," he replied. "I forgot your name."
I was wearing the jacket SKI Magazine provided for the tests and it was obvious that Wayne had mistaken me for a pro. Rather than go into a complicated explanation, I decided to run with it.
"No worries," I replied. "It's Joe Moylan; we met a few years back at Beaver Creek."
"Well, how you been Joe?"
"Not bad," I said. "You guys about to do a burn?"
"Just about," he replied. "I can't believe how good it is this late in the season!"
"Me neither! You mind if I join you for a couple of turns?"
He nodded his head and with that, we were off. I skied half of Birdseye with his group then decided not to tag along for too long. He seemed to be entertaining the group or in the process of starting a lesson and I didn't want to intrude. I raised my pole in appreciation as I passed and incited a similar reaction from Wayne in return.
I made my way down leaving railroad tracks in the fresh cord behind me. As I approached the final pitch, I noticed some ungroomed and untracked fluff near the tree line. It wasn't much, but it was still too enticing to pass up. As I skied in, my right plank buried and vanished out of sight. I ejected immediately, tumbling head-over-heels for roughly 300 vertical feet. I came to stop and wiped the snow from my face just in time to see the Wong Banger, laughing as he skied past.
"All-Star wreck," he yelled!
I looked back up the mountain to see both of my skis, my poles, my hat, goggles and one glove were littered all over the run. It was a yard sale in every sense of the phrase and people were raining down hoots as they rode the chair above. One lady asked if I was ok. I put my hands up and waved to show that I was. Thunderous applause followed. I pushed myself up to my feet and took a bow before making the long march back uphill to fetch my gear.
I should have been humiliated for wrecking like that in front of so many people, but the fact that the Wong Banger had taken notice filled me with a deranged sense of pride. There couldn't have been a sweeter ending to an already amazing week.
Results and Deer Valley 2010
That afternoon the eight amateurs congregated for the final time to talk about the day's category and compile our data. I think SKI brought us in to provide a fresh perspective that its primary demographic could relate to. After all, the vast majority of SKI Magazine subscribers are not professionals. Were we successful? I'd like
to think so. Within just a few runs we were all speaking the vocabulary of the job, could verbalize the different mannerisms of each ski, and were quick to separate the obvious dogs from the clear stand outs.
It is interesting to note that a handful of skis in each category fell into the good graces of both amateur and pro. To some, that fact may be surprising given the huge disparity between our skills, but not to me. Though a pro may pick one ski and an amateur may pick another, their reason for doing so are one in the same; the ski feels good. It shouldn't be surprising, then, that the winners "felt" the best to both groups of testers. In my opinion, a well manufactured ski should appeal to a broad market and if I had the means, I would focus on the skis we all liked when shopping for a fresh set this fall.
I'd like to close this nonsensical account by saying our process for data compilation was wholly unscientific, which is why it was so much fun to collect. In all honesty, this was a dream come true and the single greatest experience of my young adult life. If you had the opportunity to participate, but passed, feel free to take a moment and kick yourself. For the rest of you learning about this for the first time, all I can say is do whatever it takes to be here next season. Just keep in mind you will be competing for at least one less spot. Nothing short of a restraining order will keep me from Deer Valley in 2010. - Joe Moylan