Follow Me...

Fateful words on that perfect spring day. I wish I had know better. The winter had been warm and wet and spring arrived with the mountain blanketed deep in snow; more snow than it had seen in around fifty years. The stuff was bottomless all over the mountain. Rides were being taken in places that were left high and dry in average years. I took a couple of runs and met up with some other boarders on the lift. The hot topic was the epic rides being taken down the south side of the mountain; the side that is out of bounds and usually too sunny to hold snow. The stories of 8 feet of untracked snow and challenging, unexplored terrain had us all stoked.

As we sat at the top of the mountain buckling in Bucky, one of the ragged crew, said "Hey dudes, follow me... I've been down the south side and I know where some awesome rock drops, powder chutes and log slides are. Just stick together and I will show you how to turn back to the ski area." As he's saying this I'm reading the sign that says:

THE AREA BEYOND THIS SIGN IS RUGGED WILDERNESS AND IS NOT PATROLLED BY THE SKI AREA. BE PREPARED TO TAKE CARE OF ANY EMERGENCY YOURSELF.

We asked ski patrol patrol about the potential for avalanches and got the green light to head out of bounds.

There were about 7 of us who ducked under the rope and dropped into a dreamscape of white. The latest in a series of storms had dumped almost a foot overnight and the sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the low, fast moving clouds. We couldn't see another set of tracks anywhere as we blasted through loose stands of trees, whooping as we encountered unexpected delights. There were so many hits that one of us was in the air at any given moment. Bucky set the pace through a line that took us all closer and closer to the edge of our ability. Hesitation would have been disaster; you needed speed to jump over the logs and rocks with out landing ON them. We slashed between the trees, worried more about surviving the next few seconds of the downhill rush than where we were going.

When we stopped to group up and rest Bucky says "Oh-oh, I think we passed the point were we can get back to the ski resort. I looked downhill and all I could see was an impenetrable tangle of ponderosa pines. I considered the options; hiking uphill in snow over my head was not one of them. I opted to continue down and hoped to hit the ski area access road soon. As we bashed through the trees the terrain got flatter and slower until a fall meant 5 minutes trying to get started again. The group ended up in a gully and we got separated by falls and differing speeds. I shouted ahead to the other riders but my loudest shouts were sucked up by the trees and the snow. They could have been fifty feet away and not heard me. I was alone. I was lost.

I began thinking how isolated I was. I was only a mile or two from the ski resort, less than 10 miles from Flagstaff, but if I got lost out here they might not find me until the spring thaw. I pictured myself laying in the snow dead with my Sims board still on my feet. I looked up at the sun and it seemed to be heading for the western horizon with more determined speed than I had noticed before. I was scared. My legs burned from an hour of constant riding. I was getting so low on the mountain that the snow was thinning out. Soon it was almost flat and only a few inches of snow covered the rocks. My board was taking a beating. I pictured my self whipping Bucky as he repaired the evil gashes in my P-Tex. I crossed a cross country ski trail and knew I was really far down the mountain. Ahead I saw a black stripe and had to refocus before I realized what it was: the road.

I was baking in my parka. I peeled it off and sat by the side of the road. My thumb was ready but it wasn't needed; no one was driving up the mountain. It was so late in the day that I was lucky to find a ride up with some afternoon snowboarders who rounded the bend after about 15 minutes. As I hopped in the back of the pickup the driver asked "Did you ride all the way down here. "Yes" I answered, "How far down am I?" "About two turns from the highway" he answered. I had ridden about 8 miles down the mountain. We spotted some more of the lost snowboarders around a curve and we loaded them on too. About two miles up on the road Bucky was thumbing for the scarce ride back up. The driver said "Sorry dude, I'm too full to take you up, my chains are banging the fender already". So we head up, leaving Bucky standing by the side of the road.

I didn't see Bucky any more that season, I'm not mad at him, it was a cool experience since I lived through it. I'm just gonna think twice before I listen to someone who says... "Follow me..."

Michael Cornelius