The infinite sea of white stuff is rising up to meet us as if it’s been patiently expecting our arrival. The thunderous whir from the helicopter’s overhead rotors seems to vibrate right through my bones. Aldo and Ben are across from me shifting restlessly in their seats, and from their eager expressions they’ve already mentally unbuckled their harnesses. They’re practically salivating to get their skis down onto that pristine, virgin powder.
Our mountain guide Jake stands up and shouts loudly across to me, “Up you go, Sabine. Ladies first around these parts!”
I nod to him and unclick the five-point latch that holds me pinned against my red-vinyl seat. I snap the buckle hooks closed on my ski boots and cautiously move across the narrow body of the chopper until I reach the long black metal basket. He’s busy loading my skis inside, glancing up to yell, “Step in slowly and take a seat!”
I stare nervously over at my cousin, who calls out encouragingly, “You’re in the hands of trained professionals, Sabine. Drink it in! It’ll go quickly. See you below.”
Jake offers his hand as I lower myself down into a seated position. The rigid metal offers zero comfort as I try hard to hold my rampant nerves in check.
Don’t look out. Do. Not. Look. Breathe.
Jake yells, “Hold tight to those chains and don’t watch the cable above you. Focus on the ground. We’ll be on the mountain before you know it!”
He sits opposite me, does a final safety check and gives his partner Neil a thumbs up.
As if in slow motion, Neil pushes the basket out over the edge of the open door.
I try to crack a joke, desperate to ease my fear, “If my grip was any tighter, my fingers would fuse together.”
He grins as if it’s just another sunny walk in the park. The arcing blades are kicking up a furious wind, causing us to sway hard. I do my best to reassure myself, thinking that even if the cable snapped, we’re not that far off the ground now and we’d certainly make it. Wouldn’t we? At least the helmets would help ….
“Beautiful, right?”
Jake’s staring across at me and I go for it, taking a long, appreciative look around.
The peak is a glorious pure white, proudly reaching up toward a boundless blue sky, “Very. It’s stunning.”
A huge billow of snow gushes up as the rectangular basket plops down in a harsh jolt from the uneven weight distribution. I sigh in relief that we’re safe and in a flash he’s up and out, removing my skis and helping me up.
The powder is swirling all around us from the overhead chopper as he tells me quickly, pointing to his right, “Okay, Sabine, here’s your gear. I want you to wait over there by that tree. Less wind.”
“Got it!”
I take my lime-green Atomics and ski poles from him and trudge the hundred feet over toward the towering tree. Turning around, I’m impressed that he’s already heading back up to the hovering chopper. These guys definitely know their stuff. It only takes a minute before Neil is pulling him back inside. I watch from a distance as he preps Aldo for the exact same ride.
When my cousin first suggested a heli-skiing trip, I was excited but concerned that I might not be able to afford it, especially since it was only a few weeks after Christmas. He assured me that he’d found an established mountain guide organization online. It was based out of Skagway, Alaska, highly rated, and offered all-in-one packages. I hopped online to research and verify the details before telling him I was in. That was three weeks ago and now here we are, at the peak of a monster mountain, the gleaming slope practically calling out for us to take on the challenge.
We met Jake and Neil yesterday when they picked us up from the miniscule Skagway airport after the flight from Montana. From there we traveled to their office to sign several consent waivers before participating in a ninety-minute ‘Worst case scenario’ survival class. We were reassured that animal attacks and avalanches were extremely rare, but still a frightening possibility in this region. Everyone was issued a locator beacon and a small metal shovel that slides down vertically into our backpacks, both mandatory equipment for anyone on a heli-ski tour.
Aldo rushes toward me, breathless and pumped, “Is this not badass, Sabine? I mean, look at this place! Hell, it’s a million times better than I’d imagined, and we haven’t even taken a single run yet. And weather permitting, if this storm holds off, then we’re set for three more lifts up the mountain today. Gotta get this on video; my buddies back home will lose their minds. Here, mind holding my gloves for a sec?”
I shake my head and laugh as he hands them over and fishes out his cell to begin recording, first the chopper that’s beginning to lower Ben down, then a sweep of the mountain. Aldo’s the most talented skier I know, nearly making the cut for the Aspen X games this past season. His specialty is tricks and jumps. I’m always in awe watching as he goes for big air, flipping backwards, skis in a cross as he brings his entire body around to land like it was nothing.
We both check our gear for the tenth time and clip on our skis, not wanting to waste a second once the helicopter leaves.
“Damn, that was epic!” Ben shouts, his graffiti-effect snowboard held tight in hand. He shoves it down into the snow and high-fives Aldo.
Jake jogs over to us, calling out loudly, “Okay, nearly ready, just a final safety check. Turn around. I need to see that your beacons are transmitting.”
He checks each one, along with the position of our shovels.
“Next, we just started giving clients a satellite phone to carry. Some mobile phone carriers have a signal this far up the mountain, but in case yours doesn’t, I’m giving this to Ben, because he has the most room in his bag. I want you to stick close together and have an awesome time, but also to be safe. Remember everything that we went over yesterday. In the worst-case scenario of an avalanche, if you freeze up, just force yourself to do two things—race for the sides, where it is less likely to cover you, and do everything in your power to stay on top of the slide and grab for something—a branch, a tree trunk, anything. Got it?”
Nervously, I speak up, asking, “Do you have a feeling with all this new snow that we’re going to have some kind of problem, Jake?”
He smacks my shoulder lightly, “Hey, listen, Sabine, I would never put you up here if I thought that. I give this speech every time I drop clients. And we’ve had hundreds of happy customers in the past five years. Safety and survival are what we’re all about. That’s why we’ve gone ahead and refunded you for tomorrow. There’s no way anyone will be out in the monster blizzard they’re calling for. All right, we’ll rendezvous at the base. Aldo has the map if you have any issues, but the path is pretty straightforward. Our number is stamped into the base of the sat phone. Call if you need us, even with a basic question. We’ll be looking out for you. Everyone good?”
We nod and watch him race back to the crimson and white helicopter. The pilot has kept it in an unfaltering hover, probably not an easy task.
We’re busy adjusting our packs and neck gators for the last time when Ben asks, “So, who’s heading down first?”
Aldo teases, “Easy, the one who’s geared up … and that would be me. See ya at the bottom!”
He drops, gliding smoothly down the face, skis leaving an ‘S’ pattern in their wake before we can reply.
“That bastard! C’mon, ready Sabine?”
I pull down my Spy Optic goggles and shout, “Good to go, let’s move!”
We both take off, crisscrossing each other’s paths with ease, as the flakes shimmer like diamonds beneath our waxed edges.
We’ve nearly caught up to Aldo when we hear it: the inhuman roar comes out of nowhere, yet is suddenly all around us. Terrified, I keep moving but look up, thinking maybe the helicopter has circled back for some reason, but the sky is empty; it’s long gone. Aldo’s turning back, his face a mask of horror as he screams, “Go! Go! Dear God!”
Only one thing could elicit that sound, causing the ground to quake and give way, making it feel like we’re surfing. Likely the most macabre word in the dictionary—‘avalanche.’
“Sides! Sides!” I scream to them, knowing my shouts are falling on deaf ears because the booming sound is everywhere. I’m doing everything in my power to ride it, desperate to stay upright, petrified of being buried alive beneath tons of snow.
Aldo and I are both heading to the left, when off to the right Ben goes down, gone in the blink of an eye. I scream for him, losing one of my poles as the thunderous snow rages around us. I’ve nearly made it to the trees when a huge weight that feels like a concrete boulder smashes into the back of my knees, knocking me down with the force of a bull on a rampage. My skis are ripped from my feet and I’m twisted around then flipped over onto my stomach, speeding face first down the steep incline.
“Noooo!”
I look down and reach out for the only object coming my way that isn’t white: the long branch of an evergreen is closing in on me hard and fast. I manage to grab the center of the thing as a tidal wave of snow threatens to cover me. I lift my head, knowing that as long as I can breathe, I have a fighting chance. My goggles are coated with snow and ice, making it seem like I’m staring through a foggy, frozen fish bowl when as suddenly as it began, everything stops. Like it had never happened. The world around us is eerily silent. I sob in relief that I wasn’t killed. It takes only seconds for the emotion to turn into white-hot panic as I realize that the guys are nowhere to be seen. I slowly lift my goggles on top of my helmet, astounded that it has miraculously stayed on my head. I stand and take a tentative step, only to stagger sideways, dizzy from being tossed around so violently.
All right, keep it together and shout for them ….
“Ben! Aldo! Can you hear me?”
Somewhere off to my left, deeper inside the tree line, a low groan starts up.
“I’m coming! Keep making noise!”
My legs are shaky and uncoordinated as I stumble toward the awful sounds that are merging into a wail of agony.
I recognize the gray and yellow jacket; one side is half buried in the snow.
Reaching him, I drop down to my knees, fearful of what I’m about to see.
“Hey, I’m here, Aldo, talk to me.”
“Holy fuck! My hip’s gotta be shattered or somethin’, ’cause it hurts so damn bad. Shit! Sabine, quick, get the sat phone and call for help.”
I begin to unzip his pack. He groans, “No, remember? Ben has it! Get him to call. Fucking hurry, I’m about to pass out! Fuuuck!”
“I … okay! Do your best to stay conscious. I came over to you first. I have to go and try to find him.”
He screeches, “What? Hurry! He could be covered by that shit, losing oxygen as we speak!”
My mind blanks in terror as a surge of adrenaline shoots through my body.
“My pack was torn off. I’m taking your shovel.”
“Just find him. Hurry, Sabine!”
I pull out the two-foot-long tool and rush, lightheaded, back to the face of the slope.
Nothing but white. Everywhere. Oh no! No, no, no!
“Ben! Ben, where are you? Ben!” I yell frantically at the top of my lungs as I scan the lumpy aftermath. Then I see it—three lone pieces of red fabric poking out of the snow.
Oh my God … buried alive.
Falling twice in my manic attempt to get to him I finally make it and start plunging the shovel in, removing as much snow as I can as quickly as possible. It seems like forever before I reach him, cringing as the steel edge strikes his torso. I toss the shovel aside and start digging like a dog, knowing that he’s got to be out of air by now. I cry out when I see his hat and long hair. I shove more of the snow away, and he gasps and starts coughing.
I continue to dig him out; he’s trembling all over and can’t stop the gag-coughing. By the time he can roll onto his side, I have sweat dripping into my eyes, mixing with the tears that are tracking down my numb cheeks.
I touch his shoulder, “Ben?”
He’s still trembling like a leaf when he says shakily, “Cupped my free hand around my mouth, just like Jake told us yesterday. Bought me just enough air. Was startin’ to pass out.”
He struggles to sit up and starts crying.
I rub his back, wanting to soothe him, “Shh, it’s all right. We’ve all made it. Ben, I have to call for help, Aldo is hurt badly. I need the phone.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He reaches for the strap of his cross-body style backpack and despair washes over his face. It’s gone.
Aldo’s screams are coming from the trees and I try to sound brave, “It’s okay. Hey, do you have your cell on you? Jake said it might work up here.”
“Yeah, yeah, right here. He slowly unzips his coat and reaches into his chest pocket. What he pulls out is a crushed rectangle. He tries to turn it on, but we both know it’s futile.
“Aldo has one. Let’s see if his is in any better shape. Can you stand, Ben?”
“I think so.”
He tries to get up but when he is almost standing, he falls like a lead weight.
“Agh! Motherfucker! My ankle!”
God. Think! Stay calm, Sabine … reassure him help is on the way.
“Ben, Aldo still has his beacon on; they’re likely searching for us as we speak. I know it’s going to be a challenge but I have to get back to Aldo, and I can’t leave you here. You’re going to have to crawl over with me, okay?”
He’s gritting his teeth and holding onto his ankle. “Yeah.”
“Just follow me. Take your time; the worst is over.” At least I hope so.
I trudge back across the snow as fast as my ski boots will allow, winding my way though the vivid green trees toward Aldo. I try to mask my shock when I reach him. He’s deathly pale and has broken into a profuse sweat. He’s far quieter now and I resist the urge to look beneath his clothing, knowing I have no medical training and no matter what I find, there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Help is coming for you, Aldo, just try and lie still.”
I search his pockets, finding another crushed screen. I try it anyhow. Success! It’s still functioning.
“Aldo, what’s your code?”
He moans, “Three-eight-seven-three.”
My hopes are annihilated when I see the ‘No service’ signal illuminated in blue at the top left corner.
Damn it!
I turn back and shake my head at Ben, who is dragging himself toward us. “No service.”
I open Aldo’s pack and take out the flashing transmitter. Handing the beacon over to Ben, I tell him, “Guard this with your life and if possible, do your best to keep him warm.”
“What! Where are you going?”
“I’m taking the map and am heading to the bottom for help. Right now.”
“No way, that’s insane! You even said they’ll come for us. The beacon is a radio signal, and they have to have seen or at least heard that avalanche.”
“Ben, we won’t survive the night out here. The temps are way too low. I’m not going to sit here while you two are in pain, and every second wasted could have dire consequences.” We both stare at Aldo. “I’m getting down to that base to make damn sure someone knows about us.”
“All right, Sabine, but don’t get lost. Do your best to follow the course we had planned. I hope that avalanche didn’t fuck the terrain up so badly that you can’t find your way.”
“You and me both. And Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Please keep him alive. You know how much he means to me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I’m going to stake your board down in the snow just outside of these trees to give them a colored visual.”
“That’s good. Hold up, Sabine, do you want to try and ride it?”
“Can’t. Wrong boots and the bindings are set for your much larger feet. It would never stay on. Stay strong and I’ll see you both soon.”
He gives me a serious look. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
With the map clutched in my glove like a lifeline, I slide my crystal-flecked goggles back down onto my numb face, bound and determined to find help, knowing that every second is absolutely critical in this grim scenario. If I fail we’re likely all doomed.