By Gregg Heid | PREVIEW Columnist
Skiing in a blizzard on Wolf Creek Pass, in 40 inches of new snow, I skied alone — not smart.
One of my pleasures up on the mountain is talking to people on the lifts.
That day three young men and I shared a lift. I used my same starter question. “Where’re you from?”
“Denver.”
“What about you?”
“Boulder.”
“And you?”
“Also Denver.”
Curious, I asked, “How do you guys get time off during the middle of the week to come down here to ski?”
One by one they gave their reasons. “I work out of my home.” “I’m unemployed, looking for work.” The third man stated he worked for a finance company and had a flexible schedule.
I thought about these Denverites; must be a thousand of them here today. They follow the snow on their weather apps and cut up our powder with their boards and fat skis.
I decided to head over to the Alberta lift and get away from those who don’t know the mountain.
Later that day, I went alone on a slope next to one of the waterfalls. I skied the trees so I could see. The slope was steep, so I turned 10 feet swaths to control speed; one turn to the right, then another to the left, right, then left. When I came around that tree on my left turn, there was a 10-foot tree with only 5 feet above the snow directly in my path.
My left ski went deep into the snow, my body hit the tree straight on, and I found myself bent over the tree parallel to the snow. I tried to push myself to an upright position, but to no avail as my poles sank out of sight up to my elbows. Now I’m worried. I pushed again and my stomach cramped.
“Help, down here, help me.”
No one came. I waited. My agony increased. I got scared. I yelled again just as a young man came around the tree below my right ski.
“Looks like you need some help. Let me take off your skis.” He reached for my right ski.
“No,” I said, “I’ll fall into the tree well.”
He popped the left ski binding with his pole. The tree I leaned over held me up. Then he popped off the right ski and I somersaulted over the tree.
I lay there looking up as the snow fell on my face, my body relaxed in the deep powder. I looked at him, “Man, thanks so much. You came at the right time. I could have been here all night.”
The man looked down at me and smiled, “Glad I could help.”
“Where’re you from?”
“Denver.”
