Frozen Fear: My Brush with a Cliff

Professor Swanson pointed out that my technical “fix” did not quite meet the criteria from this week's assignment, so I opted to redo it. Herein lies my experience. I found myself in a precarious situation that required a fix. I needed someone to come and rectify it, then help me extricate myself. Once fixed, I could go back to my normal life. It required trust in a stranger, something not easily given by me, and a calm sense of belief that everything will be okay. Essentially, I had to trust in a power beyond myself to literally save my life.

I was living in San Francisco at the time. I had a roommate, Vickie. We were both avid skiers, she more accomplished than I. Yet, I followed her wherever, being the risk-taker I am. We were skiing one bright, blustery, clear day at Squaw Valley. We had just disembarked from the Headwall lift, ready to tackle the moguls of this very steep black diamond run. Upon disembarkation at the top, called Baldy for a reason, where wind had swept any semblance of snow from its crust, leaving a rounded sheet of thick, rutted ice for us to traverse from west to east in order to ski down a fully snow-packed trail located in the valley of this peak where wind dared not go.

While skiing in a traverse to our intended destination, the wind suddenly gripped me, causing me to be tossed back on my skis. I began a fast and treacherous tumble, inadvertently taking Vickie down with me. Amid the chaos, a voice deep within me urged me to stop. As we tumbled, rolled, and slid, I listened to that inner voice as I always do. I dug my elbows into the earth and gradually brought us to a full stop. I remember lying there, gazing up at the beautiful blue sky. Suddenly, a real human voice spoke sharply, commanding us not to move. Three men at the top were watching us intently. One of them took off his skis and climbed down to where we lay, still entangled and facing west. The sudden turn of events happened so quickly that I do not recall how it unfolded; or pointed in that direction.

As he approached, he reiterated how important it was to stay still. We followed his instructions. He first helped Vickie, who was practically on top of me. He removed her skis, lifted her, assisted her in putting the skis back on, and guided her as she skied down, facing east. Then it was my turn. I remained calm, listening intently to his every command except one: “Don’t look down.”

Less than a foot away was a drop - a long, steep descent into a crevice of sharp, ragged boulders. I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. The guardian instructed me, and I followed his guidance. Soon, I found myself turned back towards the east, skiing back to the main ski run. I marveled at how the man managed to climb back up in his ski boots; it was a mystery to me. Maybe he sprouted wings and flew up. As I reached the long, steep mogul-covered run, I suddenly froze - the gravity of the situation hit me. Just then, another angel in the form of a ski patrol member skied by and asked if I was okay. I admitted I wasn’t. My pride had plummeted off the cliff earlier, and I knew I needed help to get down the mountain. With his assistance, I made it back safely. I am immensely grateful to them, wherever they may be, and thank them from the bottom of my heart.