Pitfall

Pitfall

The abominable snowman stomped in the front door of the cozy resort cabin, rolled the bundle of firewood off his arms and dusted the flakes from his shoulders before removing his wet layers to hang next to the fireplace. Then he unlaced and toed off his insulated boots to exchange for floppy slippers, grabbed a log and fed it to the blaze before sinking into the deep, button-tufted arm chair next to the hearth.

“Here ya go, Bro.” I handed my best friend the steaming cup of hot chocolate with the marshmallows beginning to melt down into frothy pools and the sweet aroma wafting upwards to welcome the mix of senses.

I settled into the matching arm chair on the opposite side of the crackling fireplace cradling my own cup. The blue flames eagerly licked at the new offering as the nearly burnt fodder succumbed to fate. The hickory mingled with the chocolate and marshmallowy flavors to say get cozy and curl up awhile. Let it snow.

And snow it did.

As he warmed his frigid fingers on the hot mug I asked, “How does it look out there?”

“Big fluffy flakes still falling. This dusting will soon become a layer and by morning there should be a thick blanket. Perfect for our back country skiing tomorrow up in the higher regions. Temperatures are rapidly dropping, though. Hope that won't spoil the outing. Been looking forward to this annual trip a long time already.” Abe Snow and I had been friends, fraternity brothers, since college days. We both had stressful careers in the city and relished this get away.

“Yeah, remember that arctic blast we suffered through what, four or five years ago? I think the cold caught a cold. Atmosphere so thick and gray it felt like trudging through frozen fog. Breath crystallized on its way out and back in again. Made your lunges feel like they were burning.” I shuddered.

“Looks like you are still nithering remembering it. We will have to beware these fluctuating temperatures increase the danger of avalanches. But there is nothing like being the first to swish out onto the pristine new powder up there off the piste. Timing couldn't be more perfect for this snowfall as long as it doesn't turn into a wind-whipped blizzard. Everything should look washed pure and clean with the evergreens dripping white frosting down across the mountain tops.”

“Well, aren't you waxing poetically. Speaking of waxing, we may want to double check our skis and then hit the bunks so we get that early start. Weather permitting the helicopter takes off with or without us to ferry us up top.”

The early dawn peek out the frosted glass of the front picture window confirmed it would be a made in wonderland kind of winter day customized for our play date. The newborn sun was unfurling its first golden rays across the virgin landscape unleashing zillions of sparkling mini suns. It didn't take us long to down a nourishing breakfast and get bundled into our latest ski tech gear. With the full day stretched out in front of us we couldn't believe our good fortune being blessed with perfect conditions as we headed for the ski patrol station and the lift to our destination.

Making this yearly trek for more than two decades we were well seasoned skiers anxious to attack the slopes. Yet we patiently suffered through the mandatory safety meeting nodding for all the appropriate responses. We were such old hats at this we should be the ones teaching these patrol youngsters what is up and what is down on these hills. Check your equipment. Don't ski alone. Stay within bounds. Yes, there are still bounds in the high country soft powder regions. Keep your buddy in sight. No flying off unfamiliar cliffs. Avoid loud noises. What to do if there is an avalanche. And on and on...

Finally into the chopper and rising above the hubbub of the resort and all the activity of the headquarters and bunny hills and lift entries we were on our way. And, oh, what a magical dreamland spread out below and all around us while we drifted upwards. Ribbons of perfectly manicured trails were fanning out from the lift drop zones. The little scurrying ants diminishing in size as we rose. The blinding pristine whiteness shimmering against the darkened tree line then mountains looming ever higher and more distant. Vales and valleys rippling the vistas. The rocky crags making them look wicked and wonderful all at the same time. The sun casting shadows and veils or sprinkling diamonds before us, clouds floating lazily by until sliced by the blades. When we neared the summit I could make out individual evergreens standing as silent sentinels guarding the pathways robed in their white garments of fur. The beauty took our breath away and was so refreshing for the soul.

Discharged from the copter we waved as it whooped-whooped above us waiting for the intense wind to subside and the noise to fade. We deeply inhaled the thinner air and grinned at each other as we took in a new sensation. Silence. Silence so loud it bespoke volumes. Silence we never heard in our everyday city lives. Silence we reveled in. Silence. One of the reasons we made it a point to escape from the world below and start our adventure on the mountain top. Silence we wouldn't interrupt by talking out loud. We had our map in mind and knew which way we planned on embarking.

We raised our poles toward the skies in a silent 'thank you' then breathed in the beauty and the silence once more before we swished away. Slowly at first still in awe and wanting to savor the wonder. Then we picked up speed until the chilly air was nipping at the exposed skin on our cheeks. Everywhere else was safely covered. The temperature was just right and the wind was tolerable. Soon we were flying down that hill pluming out fresh powdery untouched snow. Two old friends doing what they loved to do. All our plans and dreams coming true in that winter wonderland, in that glorious moment, on that glorious day.

As we neared the tree line we saluted the silent sentinels and proceeded single file taking turns as the lead down the narrower path ways and staying aware of the widely spaced markers. On this advanced trail there were challenging jumps and natural moguls but nothing life threatening. We were thoroughly enjoying our adventure. Stretching our horizons. Unwinding our minds and our muscles.

I took the lead and sailed over a low cliff making a perfect landing and bumped over a couple of small rises. I was on a roll and wanted to continue to keep up the momentum but the nagging safety reminder to keep your buddy in sight plagued my conscience so I pulled up to watch Abe experience the same victory.

But Abe didn't come over the cliff in the assumed allotted time he should have made it. Why would he have slowed down? Trouble with a binding? I gave him a little extra time but still no show. Did he take a wrong turn? My trail should have been obvious.

I listened to the screaming silence. Did I miss a whistle blow? That was supposed to be our signal for help. How am I supposed to backtrack up over that cliff to see what the problem is? I fished my cell phone up out of my layers and called his number I had on speed dial. No answer. One. Two more times. If he has fallen and can't get to the phone of course he won't answer. If I call ski patrol would they get to him before I could? They may think I am being an alarmist. Really. Everyone takes a tumble now and again. Give him time. What if he face planted into a tree? Na, he is better than that. Okay, okay. I'll call ski rescue and I'll start back up the hill. Better to be safe than sorry.

***

I watched my buddy launch himself over the rim of the frozen world with sheer abandonment then drop out of sight. I was looking forward to the same adrenaline rush momentarily. But in that split second I took my concentration off my own forward movement I veered too close to the lower boughs of a snow laden evergreen and...

What happened? I felt myself falling then WHAM! I have a face full of snow. I can't see a thing. I can barely breath. I reach my hand toward my face to brush away the snow but even more seems to pile in around me. I realize I am in serious trouble. I can't move. I have the sensation of blood rushing to my head.

No wonder! I understand now I am upside down, face planted at the bottom of a pit. A deep hole around the bottom of an evergreen tree. The boughs bend down as repeated snowfalls build up to touch them creating a hollowed-out nearly snow-less well underneath the branches. The snow around is compact but the walls of the well easily crumble when disturbed and crush inward entrapping unsuspecting doofuses like me. As a seasoned skier I had been warned numerous times but still never thought this could happen to me. I am always so cautious.

Think now. Don't panic. I must free myself and fast or I won't survive. Trouble is every movement causes more snow to collapse in on me. I must make a breathing hole. I try again with smaller, slower moves. It feels like forever but I finally could take a breath.

Time is ticking away. How long can I hang upside down and not pass out? How long before this cold cocoon causes hypothermia to set in? How long will it take for my companion to realize I am no longer following him and come back to rescue me? Or call for back-up? I can't get to my whistle or my phone. Did the beacon engage? How long? How long? How long?

What were those statistics again that I never paid attention to? Snow induced suffocation. Drowning in snow. Most enthusiasts don't die in avalanches, its in tree wells. Like this one. In test studies no one can ever escape by themselves. But people have survived if they can keep their wits about them.

Keep my wits about me. Move extremely slow but reach for the trunk and pull yourself up. Which way is the trunk? I am starting to shiver. I can't feel my extremities. Will anyone even be able to see me? O, Lord, I need Your help. Send me an angel...

***

It's been twenty-five minutes or more but I am almost at the top of that jump. I am exhausted. Whew! Made it. Now where could Abe have gone? Are those skis sticking out of that tree base? Hold on, Buddy, I am here. I'm coming. I just need to take it slow. And dig in from farther out so I don't crash more snow down on you. Great! The ski patrol has arrived. “Hey, Fellows. Over here.”

Once we got Abe shoveled out and onto the stretcher he was barely conscious but the big man turned his ice-encrusted bearded abominable snowman grin up at me and shattered, “I kn-new th-there was a r-reason you are n-named 'Angel'.”