In my younger days I use to ski powder like that in Utah. I haven't read the articles but from the way the rescuer was talking, he could have been a ski patrolman looking for him if he had been reported missing. Similar event happened to me when I hit a big tree that literally grew up out of nowhere. My girlfriend reported me missing and…
In my younger days I use to ski powder like that in Utah. I haven't read the articles but from the way the rescuer was talking, he could have been a ski patrolman looking for him if he had been reported missing. Similar event happened to me when I hit a big tree that literally grew up out of nowhere. My girlfriend reported me missing and it took a minute for the ski patrol to find me at the top of the mountain. Fractured my hip but that didn't stop me from skiing next year. But I was paranoid about trees.
He was better prepared than I was. Recreational skiers don't normally carry a backpack and a shovel in it. But I do miss the days of floating down the mountain side with your skis so deep in powder that you can't even see them.
I was thinking that the snow seemed a little heavy, what once upon a time I would have called “heavy powder” as opposed to “fluffy powder”. In that “once upon a time” I landed in about 6 feet of fluffy powder, totally different scenario, trails hadn’t been groomed and this was in the trees about a dozen feet off the trail; but it took me only a minute to get back up - regular snow skiing...the rescued guy appeared to be really packed in there. Definitely a miracle that the rescuer was prepared and strong, and even saw the guy! Wow.
Yeah, real powder is like skiing on a cloud. You can't even feel your skis making any contact. Makes you feel like you are skiing in slow motion even though you are moving down the mountain quite rapidly.
If only I had ever had the courage to point my skis downhill, I bet I would have more fully appreciated that light powder. I loved what I experienced, though, when the mountain I skied in south-central BC was populated with one t-bar (or something like that, definitely no chair lift), and we skied all day with no lines for about $6/day. Lots of really good times. Lucky me.
In my younger days I use to ski powder like that in Utah. I haven't read the articles but from the way the rescuer was talking, he could have been a ski patrolman looking for him if he had been reported missing. Similar event happened to me when I hit a big tree that literally grew up out of nowhere. My girlfriend reported me missing and it took a minute for the ski patrol to find me at the top of the mountain. Fractured my hip but that didn't stop me from skiing next year. But I was paranoid about trees.
Wasn’t ski patrol, just a normal guy who was in the right place right time.
He was better prepared than I was. Recreational skiers don't normally carry a backpack and a shovel in it. But I do miss the days of floating down the mountain side with your skis so deep in powder that you can't even see them.
I was thinking that the snow seemed a little heavy, what once upon a time I would have called “heavy powder” as opposed to “fluffy powder”. In that “once upon a time” I landed in about 6 feet of fluffy powder, totally different scenario, trails hadn’t been groomed and this was in the trees about a dozen feet off the trail; but it took me only a minute to get back up - regular snow skiing...the rescued guy appeared to be really packed in there. Definitely a miracle that the rescuer was prepared and strong, and even saw the guy! Wow.
Yeah, real powder is like skiing on a cloud. You can't even feel your skis making any contact. Makes you feel like you are skiing in slow motion even though you are moving down the mountain quite rapidly.
If only I had ever had the courage to point my skis downhill, I bet I would have more fully appreciated that light powder. I loved what I experienced, though, when the mountain I skied in south-central BC was populated with one t-bar (or something like that, definitely no chair lift), and we skied all day with no lines for about $6/day. Lots of really good times. Lucky me.
And I'm betting trees are paranoid about YOU, Phil--LOL!!