A little true story… I went skiing a number of years back on Mt Hood. Resort skiing. That day I was with a couple friends that weren't strong skiers. I figured it’d be an easy day on the slopes hanging with them on the groomers so I left my phone and water bottle and such in the car. When out with my normal ski buddies we always pushed the edges of the park boundaries and skied the glades (trees) out of bounds. Untouched snow. Great tree skiing. Anyway that day I found myself getting bored. So I’d tell my friends to meet me at the lifts and I’d take the harder slopes to get to the same spot. I also repetitively pushed what thought were the edges of the boundary. One run I found myself blissing out carefree when I started realizing I had been out of bounds for quite awhile. I stopped. Took off my helmet…. Silence. Nothing. No tracks except mine. I quickly realized I had skied lower on the mountain than the last lift reached. The snow was knee to thigh deep. There was no going up. No way. No how. I took a couple minutes to gather myself. Took some deep breaths. Then knew I had one of two choices. Either had to be performed perfectly or I knew I’d be spending the night on the mountain. Ski hard left and eventually hit the road coming up to the resort. Though I knew that road was carved into the snow. In many many spots the road can be more than 10-15’ lower than the snow as they clear the road by blowing the snow up high. Creating a deep walled hallway that the road navigates. The thought of skiing to the edge but having no way to actually get to the road didn’t seem like a good prospect. So I took the long way. Down, to Government Camp, the town at the base of the mountain. I knew I had about two hours of daylight before I’d have to start digging a snow cave to stay ‘warm’ for the night. I had a lighter. I had a half a Jack Links beef jerky stick. Most importantly I had to pick and choose my path. I was in my downhill skis and boots. Not free heel boots. Meaning I had no real way of generating power with my legs. Therefore I had to pick my path well and not get greedy with taking every downhill slope. There’s box canyons and such I couldn’t afford to get trapped in as any uphill had to be met with skis off, hands and knees climbing. Using my skis, in hand, parallel to the hill, out in front of me to help flatten the snow and ‘pull’ myself up the slope. I encountered that a couple of times. Nothing full box canyon style because of smart choices but it was brutal none the less. It took well over an hour but I finally hit an area where there were cabins. The first guy I saw realized I was in downhill boots and new what I had been up against to look him in the eyes. He invited me in for a cup of coffee and drove me back up to the resort. My friends had ski patrol getting ready to start a big search. They figured I got hurt in one of the in bounds glades. Nope. Full on adventure. One I’ll never repeat. I’ll never not carry my phone with me again. Resort or not. I also carry extra beef jerky and m&m’s when I ski. I also no longer ski out of bounds like that. No one I know anymore has the skills and/or desire to play hard like tgat anymore. We’re getting too old.
I’m just glad I can tell the tale and didn’t freeze to death that night on the mountain.
I didn’t tell my (ex)wife about that for months after the fact. Didn’t need her freaking out every time I loaded up and went to the mountain.