“Shane brought his pup Ama (named after Ama Dablam) to Alaska when his dog-sitter fell through. She greeted us after every run, gave us endless cuddles and was the happi-est companion on the glacier.” Photo: Michelle Parker That’s how Elena and I found ourselves perched in the crosshairs of our dream line, our radio crackling with calls from Robin and Shane, who were just out of sight. Sluff had ripped down the runnels as they had moved onto the face. The mountains were shedding and Robin and Shane turned and bailed back to camp. Sometimes the mountain doesn’t entirely show itself until you are on it. Reading the signs from a safe place to make those decisions, we regrouped before making a move to the right, a shift that would put us over exposure as the heat of the day approached. A brief, honest discussion between Elena and myself made for an easy decision to turn and point downhill. Elena strapped in and ski cut the face below. Predictably, a lot of snow moved, uncovering an icy layer beneath. When you are flashing a line, skiing it fast, these small intricacies don’t bother you as much, but when you are descending slowly and carefully, it came seem more dangerous. When you go slow, you notice the texture of the snow surface and the steepness because you have time to think about it. We made it off the face safely and rejoiced in the low-angle powder turns below. This moment of decision-making and moving intentionally as a team solidified our trust more than years of successfully ridden lines ever could. We laughed our way back to camp and embraced—content with our effort, communication and teamwork. We made it nowhere close to the top, but to say no, and to turn and do so as a group is a beautiful thing—a nice reminder that the mountains call the shots. Back at camp, a quick weather check confirmed that in the coming days more warmth would blanket the range be-fore a massive storm would wreak havoc on the mountains. With predicted high winds, rain and snow on the way, we packed our bags quickly to catch the last sunny flight back to civilization. We didn’t see the day as a failure, but rather a series of good calls and a safe return. We gorged on the rest of the food (including a whole pie), and drank all of the spirits to lighten the load. The northern lights danced in the black sky as our disco ball spun and our tent filled with laughter well into the night. While we would have loved to have stayed longer, these mountains wouldn’t be the same if they didn’t leave us wanting more. SOMETIMES THE MOUNTAIN DOESN’T TRULY SHOW ITSELF UNTIL YOU ARE ON IT. Alaska Range 073
The Ski Journal Volume 17, Issue 2: Page 73
