Are You Living It?

The more astute reader will recognize this post for what it is: a story about unsterilized, latex gloves. Okay, ya got me! The Colorado Avalanche Report was kind enough to quote (not ridicule) Walker and I after our near death experience on Anvil Mountain Sunday (”Skiers reported 5 foot crown avalanches near Red Mountain…”).  We had skied 3 runs already in what one could only describe as “erotic” conditions; alluring alpine contours filled with fluffy soft, downy feathers begging two backcountry gangstas to trace loving lines along their… okay, I’ll stop there.  The point is, it was good. There was nothing to worry about, right? We had hiked intelligent lines all the way up the mountain, worn our transcievers, sacrificed a goat, practiced our shovel juggling technique, and, um, pretty much ignored the boldprint notice that warned of heavy slab buildup due to high winds.  We crested the ridgeline at its apex, still in the trees, kindof.  The depth perception was poor all day due to flat light and sideways blowing snow. Walker is tall and gangly like the goofy kid at the dance…well, like me, so when I was startled by his shout of “Oh sh–, watch out!” and looked up to see him falling over, I thought he was just being awkward. Slowly, my mind pieced together the action as snow rapidly built up into his body and began pushing him backwards.  My “ah-hah” moment occured as I became completely mesmerized by the large white cartoonish tendrils bearing down on me like a herd of angry snow weasels… scratch that… like giant polar bear claws!!! The first blast sent me back about 10 feet, and buried us up to our waists.  The second one had an actual sound associated with it, like a wave crashing on the beach.  I had just enought time to grab the snorkel from my Ava-Lung and shove it in my mouth before I was buried up to my chest and pushed another 15 feet back. That I actually attempted to duck dive the onslaught was ridiculous (think of a fly trying to pierce a pool of Elmer’s glue). After digging ourselves out, we traversed to the chute we had intended to ski (see picture, with our skin track just enveloped by the slide path) and I believe my exact words were “You are going to sh– yourself when you see this, dude!” The slide had run at least 3 feet deep at the crown, 350 feet wide, and ended 1500 feet down from the initial release, running up the next slope an easy 100 feet!  We had only been caught by the periphery; Lucky dogs!__Jay Rush