The Cliff And so, another adventure comes to a close. This trip was entirely amazing. Mostly it was super fun. There was, however, a 15 minute period that was fully terrifying. Heli-Skiing is dangerous. We sign lots of waivers. In my case multiple times. We spend the first few hours learning our way around the machine and our avalanche transceivers, probes and shovels. We are also told to LISTEN to the guides instructions and ask for clarification if, and indeed when, necessary. So, we are on this run named White Horse… But first, you need to know something else about Heli-Skiing. It bonds you with people at a pace that is hard to fathom. You must help each other and you must rely on your group members. You keep them safe and they do the same for you. You are stoked for them when they do well and worried about them when they eat it. We help each other find lost skis, poles, and whatever else gets lost in the bottomless powder (including your new friends). We tell jokes (dirtier the better) at the pick up spots. We eat and drink together in the evenings. We spend so much time together that you can’t help but learn about each other. My group this year was awesome (last year too). By the third day we know each others inside jokes and are flipping each other shit left and right. Back to White Horse after lunch. This is a big alpine setting. We tore down the first run and the snow was epic. We then ate lunch. After lunch, we went down to a pick up and headed to the top. And here we are, way up in the alpine. No trees. Just a massive powder field waiting to be consumed. It’s super exciting and we are all talking about the lines we are going to take and, well, flipping each other shit. Our guide, who I’ve come to really like from our time together in the lodge and in the mountains, tell us to stay to the right of his track because there is a large cliff to the left. I don’t hear him. All I hear is stay to the right of the track. Missed the key instruction about WHY. That’s dangerous, as I would find out shortly thereafter. So, we go hurtling off and we start to stack up to the LEFT of his track. I’ve lost him, so I’m now way left with another skier, Julie. We go over a big wind lip that is a good 3 or 4 foot drop. I go a little more left on the landing. Then, a second… After the third one everyone hits the breaks kicking up powder. I can’t see, so I make a hard heel side turn on my snowboard. That, unfortunately, kicks me even further left. Julie does the same thing. And so there I am…about 15 feet down off the top of this cliff. I look down and it’s a crazy steep slope that’s easily 1,000 feet down in high avalanche conditions and the cornice is still rolling down the slope. Punching through a cornice is a unique experience. I don’t recommend it. I’m on the radio seconds later triggering what they call “Rescue Plan Alpha” and the whole operation becomes very serious. They pull Julie out pretty quick, but I’m in the poo pretty deep and this cornice is kinda dicey so they have to be careful and take their time. I start thinking about a Plan B if I some how trigger a slide and really quickly realize this will be the steepest thing I’ve ever been down and Plan B isn’t really a viable option. I sit there, in a relatively stable position, for about 15 minutes. As long as I don’t trigger a slide, I’m going to be ok. People keep telling me not to move and that is an instruction I plan to follow to the letter. I immediately prayed to God to save my life and that calmed me down quite a bit. Faith that God has a plan for your life and could have taken it if he wanted to is very comforting. I knew then that if I didn’t do anything more stupid than I already had, I would eventually be ok. My mind then shifted to my wife Monica. We’ve been together over half of my life. “What have I done?” “What if it had been worse?” There was literally one way I could have gone off that thing and been ok. My kids…I start to cry a little at the thought of leaving them this way. The lead guide comes back over the radio and he’s so calm. Whether he’s shouting down to me or on the radio with the rest of the team, everything is “he’s fine”, “we got him”, “just need a little hip belay and we can pull him out”. All this calms me as well. They get a rope around my shoulders and I take my first really solid deep breath in 15 mins. Once I’m secure, they pull up my snowboard with a rope. Then, I manage to spin my way around and climb out with rope assistance. Applause ensues. Another guide is telling me to take my time and calm down. But, I’m already calm. I’ve been calm for several minutes. Once I had that rope, I knew I was ok. They ask me if I want a lift back to the lodge. “Nope, I’m good”. I thank them all and explain a little of what happened. We take a little time to unpack things and I assure them I’m fine and will diligently listen to instructions from here on out. My guide takes responsibility, but it took two for this tango to play out. I strap in and head RIGHT…way RIGHT to rejoin my brother and the rest our group. Later that night, I am dubbed “Spiderman” by the heli pilot for my wall clinging abilities. He tells me that if I had tried to go down they would have found me at the bottom like a big snowball. We laugh about the whole thing and joke about how I have a story to tell my Grandchildren. This is without doubt the most terrifying thing that has happened to me in the last 20 years. At the outset of this trip, I put up a post on Facebook about my nature that ended with this. So, why? Yeah, it’s a freeking blast. It’s epic. But, that’s not it. You learn what it is to be alive when you face death. You learn to listen to His voice, despite the fact that it isn’t audible. You find that survival requires trust. You must trust your guides, your partner and yourself. That’s why we come here. We don’t come here to die. We come here to live. I still feel that way. The rest of the trip was a blast and I’ll be back next year. We ripped it up in B.C., just as we planned. I like to reflect on things and find the lesson in any adversity. I think there are several here: (1) Trust God’s plan for your life; (2) Listen to the instructions coming your way. They can save your life; (3) Don’t get cocky. Just like surfing. If you get too big for your britches, you get smacked down in a hurry; and (4) You learn what it is to be alive when you face death. I thought I had a good grasp on that last one until Tuesday January 6, 2015. I’ve got it now.
Posted on: Mon, 12 Jan 2015 16:29:37 +0000
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