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A snowboarding mountain grows in North Phila.

It's not easy belonging to a snowboarding club at a snowless, landlocked urban university - with no hills to speak of.

A snowboarder hits a rail during warmup runs before the start of a competition at Temple University on Friday, Feb. 13, 2015.  The makeshift course was placed in the middle of campus.  (Andrew Thayer / Staff Photographer)
A snowboarder hits a rail during warmup runs before the start of a competition at Temple University on Friday, Feb. 13, 2015. The makeshift course was placed in the middle of campus. (Andrew Thayer / Staff Photographer)Read more

It's not easy belonging to a snowboarding club at a snowless, landlocked urban university - with no hills to speak of.

So Temple students brought the mountain to their campus.

Armed with a dozen shovels, two cases of Monster energy drinks, and a 40-foot U-Haul, the students trucked 10 tons of snow from the Blue Cross RiverRink Winterfest skating arena at Penn's Landing onto the heart of their flat North Philadelphia school.

They shoveled the shavings in and they shoveled the shavings out.

Three times in all.

It took more than eight hours - almost an all-nighter.

All so they could be ready to hold their competition at the Bell Tower on Friday afternoon.

They had to battle brutal cold - with the wind chill, the air felt arctic at 2 a.m. - but they were warmed by the work and their numbers, nearly two dozen of them.

For one of them, a paper on Walt Whitman would have to wait.

Another would rip his pants.

Others had to go home for more layers and a change of socks and shoes.

But they were determined to show just how much fun snowboarding can be - and what a club as spirited as theirs could do when its members work together.

The cold night wasn't the only hurdle. Planning for the "rail jam" began in September. Club vice president Veronica Miller and her colleagues needed permits, facility agreements, and insurance. They had to find sponsors and a company willing to build the supports for the miniature terrain park, complete with a 13-foot drop.

A Western Pennsylvania company, Seven Springs, finally signed on.

There were hurdles along the way, so many that the year before, the club couldn't stage the event.

Sponsors dropped out. Some came back.

"It was a roller-coaster from start to finish," said Miller, 22, a public relations major from Millstone, N.J., whose parents had put her on skis almost before she could walk. "I had to slip out of class sometimes to use the bathroom [so I could] make a business call. It wasn't easy to balance, but it was a good learning experience."

Managers at the skating rink were eager to help.

"We move 8,000 pounds of snow on a busy Saturday, easily, so when these guys wanted five to 10 tons, 'Sure, go for it,' " said Jackie Lai, an assistant general manager for the Delaware River Waterfront Corp., and a 2014 Temple alum.

The night began at 6 p.m. when club members met on campus.

"Did you bring the hammer?" junior Shawn Wilson, 20, of Philadelphia, asked as a colleague approached.

"Got it," said senior Ashley Hagerty, smiling as she pulled it from her purse.

Two years ago, club members had trouble breaking up icy chunks. This time, they would be ready, thanks to Hagerty, a neuroscience major from Abington.

They also got a bigger U-Haul and brought a good number of metal shovels, not the flimsier plastic variety. And they arranged to have more cars for transportation, including Miller's family minivan.

"I think we learned a lot," Wilson said.

It also helped to have Ryan Goerke, 20, club treasurer, who just happens to be Monster's official marketing rep at Temple. The marketing major from Somerset, N.J., picked up the U-Haul at 5 p.m. and was waiting at the rink, two cases of Monster, chilling on an icy mound when the carloads of shovelers arrived for the first round.

Students climbed atop the six-foot mounds of snow piled under an overpass near the rink and began to shovel. Space was tight. They had to be careful not to shovel each other.

"Clink, clink," said Wilson, an international business major, when metal hit metal. "That's how you know it's getting dangerous."

An hour in, students knew they were doing real work.

"I'm not going to be lifting anything for the next week," proclaimed Maddy Hirsch, 18, a freshman art major from Freehold, N.J., as she tossed another shovelful into the truck then wrung out her arms. "I'll be like Betty Spaghetti."

With the U-Haul almost full, Goerke jumped out. He'd been in the back, moving the snow deep into the truck.

"My feet are so cold," he complained.

Didn't help that he was wearing sneakers.

But Goerke said his passion for the sport carries him. Started a decade ago, the snowboarding club used to take only local trips, but now ventures to Canada, out west. Later this month: Stowe, Vt.

The best part of riding for Goerke is the freedom. "There's no rules. It's like weightless."

Students finished packing the truck the first time by 8 p.m. and had it unloaded 75 minutes later, spreading the snow over an area 70 feet by 20 feet. Then they headed back for more. This time, the snow was icier and tougher to extract.

By the time they started to unload the second round, about 11 p.m., the crew was feeling ragged.

"This is the part of the night where the novelty starts to wear off, the wind picks up, it starts getting really cold," said Miller, shivering in her parka. "So everyone has to get really focused. This is the hardest part."

Wilson ripped his pants on a particularly tough heave and had to change. But he was ready to work as long as it took. He hadn't pulled an all nighter since a statistics final: "This is a lot more fun."

Passersby stopped at the Bell Tower and stared at the growing white mound.

A Temple security officer riding by on his bike, shook his head and lowered his face mask: "Where the hey did you get all this from?"

Junior Jocelyn Amico, 20, a chemistry major from Wilkes-Barre, brought her Bluetooth speaker to provide a soundtrack of Childish Gambino to the sculpting:

Rainbows, sunshine, everywhere I go.

It was after 1 a.m., and she still hadn't had time to go into the library to finish her Walt Whitman paper, due later that morning.

She hoped for leniency. "It's not going to be my best," she said.

By 2:15 a.m., the work was done.

And by Friday, noon, time to hit the slopes.