Photo courtesy of nonanet
Sitting 20 meters above a steep black diamond run on the back side of Silverstar, I watched in wonder as a tiny soul slowly but surely trooped up the hill (not down it as per usual) with skis slung on her shoulder. She was accompanied by a ski-patrol guy clad brightly in red. As the Powder Gultch chair lift rotated me closer and closer I recognized with a shock, that the little figure carrying her skis up the mountain was indeed my lovely red-headed wife. As I soon learned, after skiing for an entire day and a half on a green run called Far Out, she’d decided to diversify her “easy run experience” by trying out a new run – this one on the other-side of the mountain. This wouldn’t be a bad idea, but unfortunately, my wife’s sense of direction leaves something to be desired. After following the markers for Aunt Gladys (a long meandering easy run that tracked across most of the mountain), my wife had “missed the turnoff” and ended up on Calipher – a steep black diamond populated by massive moguls. There was no easy way down.
Worry turned to panic as she stared down a steep black diamond run under the chairlift and contemplated snow-plow turning down the hill, all the while under the steady eyes of gawkers in the chairlift above. Several skiers came by and asked if they could help. One kindly gentleman from Salmon Arm named Pat (an older retiree who frequented the mountain every week) offered to coach her through the descent and take each mogul together. Even this was too scary a thought to contemplate.
Pretty soon, my wife made up her mind. Unstrapping her skis, she began a long march up the hill, tearing up under little goggles as she went. That’s when Matthew, the ski-patrol savior arrived. With constant reassurances that “this sort of thing happens a few times every year – don’t worry about it!” she trekked with Matthew to the top of the hill where Sarah, another ski-patroller waited patiently with a snowmobile to complete the extraction. It was an embarrassing journey that was made significantly less embarrassing by the considerate nature of all those around who were lending a helping hand.
After she’d been zipped back up the hill and rendezvoused with me, my wife was still regailed by the generosity and helping nature of all those on the mountain who lent a hand to help during her little personal skiing crisis.
Everyone at the mountain was incredibly nice and thoughtful and it showed how many good kind-hearted people are out there. Maybe you’d find that on every mountain, but part of me wonders if its something peculiar to the smaller and more rural ski areas.
Header courtesy of Paul Jerry