The Secrets of Snow & Stone

The chairlift, a rickety old double-seater, swung around and scooped up its cargo.

“Ah, finally. Want the bar down?”

“Naw. I’m good.”

“Snow was sweet on skier’s right! Bumps had a fun shape. Falcon always delivers the goods in these conditions.”

“Dragon’s Back would be mint right now.”

Dragon’s Back. The mountain, as if following a blueprint for a fortress of goliath proportions, had erected a rampart overlooking the aptly named Castle Bowl. On one end, a slab of rock jutted up like a bell tower with a wide chute connecting the top to the bowl below. Along this chute a series of jagged monoliths protruded at regular intervals, slowly diminishing in size, mimicking the dorsal fins along a dragon’s back. Darcy’s stomach knotted at the thought of skiing it. She was capable on her planks, but the run represented a challenge she was convinced was just beyond her abilities.

“I’ll agree that conditions are good. But you have to hike to it and first turns are…”

“It’s a no-fall zone. Darcy, you’d be fine.”

“Ummm, not so sure about that.”

“You’d be fine. Pick your line and commit. The mountain will take care of you.”

“Yeeahh … no. Me and commitment don’t go so well together. You know that, Reed. Are you sure you don’t want the bar down? My legs are shot.”

Threading its way through the tower wheels, the cable squeaked and groaned. The mechanical sounds contrasting with the pillowy tufts of snow in the air, swirling around the sky and landing silently on the frozen ground, slipping by, far below Darcy and Reed’s dangling legs. Evergreens, standing tall and proud, lined both sides of the chairlift’s path mixing their distinct fragrance with the sharp, wintery air.

“Are you hungry? I have two energy bars. This chair is so slow, there’s plenty of time to eat before the top.”

“That’s your energy for Dragon’s Back.”

“Reed, no way. Just stop already. You have to hike at altitude to the tune of about 13,000 feet. Then you navigate that ledged catwalk. Then you get to decide which side of the man-eating boulder you want to tempt your fate with. I’ve seen the body-cam videos. You know what? I’m putting the bar down.”

Reed shrugged. “What flavor is that?”

“Vegan chocolate nut with spirulina. It’s good. Want some?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Neither do you.”

“You really think I can do it?”

“Yes.”

Darcy sighed. Reed always knew how to tempt her. Secretly she felt it a compliment that he thought she could ski the bowl. She wanted to live up to his expectation. The snow, dry, delicate, and soft, felt like an accomplice in his proposition. She looked at her friend sitting with such easy confidence. He tempted her, but he was always there for her. Good ol' reliable Reed. The chair swayed across another tower.

“I’m trusting you against my better judgment.”

“Good! You should.”

“Ok. I’ll do it.”

Stuffing her snack wrapper in her pocket, Darcy adjusted her coat then lifted the bar so they could unload. Silently, the pair slid off the chair. They both knew where to go.

Reed pointed his skis to a short downhill section that led to the Castle Bowl trailhead. Darcy followed.

Clicking out of their bindings, they shouldered their skis and began the 40-minute trek to the top.

The wind rushed down from the peaks above, whispering a promise of grand vistas, untracked snow, and that elusive sense of freedom and adrenaline-fueled joy coveted by every skier.

~ ~ ~

Reed watched his friend make her way up the trail. He’d met Darcy six years prior. He loved her company; she had an effervescence about her that always brightened his mood and was always game to try something new. Like today.

He had also watched her flit in and out of relationships, in and out of jobs, in and out of fleeting interests, never seemingly able to settle. They were good friends. Buddies, really. Except for the fact that he wanted to spend more and more time around her, and he knew it. He felt protective of her, but he was ok with the friend zone. Why jeopardize a good thing? Maybe someday she’d figure things out and he hoped to be standing there when she did.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” huffed Darcy in the thin air.

“Isn’t it? I wanted you to see it.”

High on the trail, filled with the immensity of the mountains, their conversation dwindled. They were standing on ancient stone, thrust up from the earth; an exposed relic from another millennium. Like two ants, they followed the thin line etched into the snow from previous skiers that spiraled up to the top.

Shards of cold air thrust down their throats, contrasting with the heat building up underneath their layers of clothes as they moved forward with each rhythmic step. The pitch sharpened. Using his skis as walking sticks for leverage, Reed stuffed his boot tips into the snowy toeholds, heels hanging off small, snowy steps. He reached the top where a natural platform provided space for him to relax a bit and wait for Darcy. A few minutes later, she joined him, and they both looked around quietly accepting their humble stature against the enormity of the sky, surrounding peaks, and power of the earth below.

“People talk about experiencing some idea of a perfect place, like you need to die to get there because it can't possibly be here," observed Reed. “It is here. Just gotta acknowledge it and actually live.”

"Do you always wax philosophical before sending your friend over the edge?" Darcy asked, brow furrowed under her protective gear.

As for living, is that what she was doing? Because at the moment she was feeling pretty queasy.

“Ready?” asked Reed.

“I think I need to pee."

"You got this."

Darcy whimpered. One last indulgence of fear before tipping in. She glanced at Reed. He smiled at her.

"Ready."

“Be prepared for speed. I recommend turning left to the inside of that first boulder. You can’t really see it from here, but the rocks begin to space out. Let your skis run between them to extend your turns. I’ll ski behind you to pick up the pieces.”

Darcy threw him a scowl.

“Kidding! Trust yourself.”

Focusing on where she wanted to go, Darcy tipped her skis forward.

The rush of speed was immediate and the first turn was on top of her in a hurry. She gave a little hop to lighten her feet, shifted her weight, and forced her legs to change trajectory. The snow demanded all her strength, and yet it was the sensation of weightless flight that dominated her senses.

Darcy shifted her weight again, arced gracefully, and swished between boulders three and four. By now she could see the bowl opening below her. Everything felt fast and utterly silent like she was floating through a high-octane dream. Another turn. All sense of her physical body diffused into unadulterated joy. Just a couple more turns and she’d be out of the chute. She allowed herself to relax for a moment, and in that instant, the mountain tempted her to cut through two more of Dragon’s famed rocks. Feeling confident, she aimed for the gap.

Perhaps there was an odd patch of snow or the cover was thin in one spot and the hidden scree altered her line. In the communicative exchange between mountain and skier, such subtle shifts are what alter the paths of fate. Darcy only knew that she was no longer aiming for the gap. Instead, she was on a collision course with the monolith in front of her with no way to slow down and no time to turn.

An eternity passed in the seconds that followed. She thought of her parents, her siblings, and of childhood wonders. She thought of her flighty nature. She forced herself to wrap her thoughts around a single meaningful entity and waited to discover what would surface from the canyons of her mind.

Reed?

Of course. She would not waste her last moment of life in a state of indecisive denial. Thanking the mountain for her epiphany she committed herself to her fate.

~ ~ ~

Physicists like to point out how objects are made mostly of space. Electrons whiz around protons and neutrons in a subatomic dance that gives tangible structure to our five senses. But fundamentally, all that can be touched – flowers, fish, whipped cream, rain, kittens, a snake’s fang, even stone– are quite empty.

~ ~ ~

The moment Darcy pushed off Reed felt confident in her abilities. Watching her navigate those first turns confirmed what he knew. She could ski. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he let out a whoop of sympathetic joy as she shot through the first gap. Then his world imploded.

Reed watched her high-velocity bobble, her new line pointing her directly to the rock. He couldn’t breathe. His blood turned to jelly, muscles to clay, thoughts coagulating, refusing to form.

With reality melting around him, he launched himself down to get to his friend. Approaching the impact zone, calamity lurched his brain out of the sludge. Priority number one: do not freak out. Just think. Think! But when he arrived, his fight for composure dissolved into bewilderment. There was nothing save for two tracks leading up to the stone. No sign of a fall, no scattering of equipment. Nothing. Darcy had vanished.

Silence. One by one Reed’s senses returned. Ice crystals tinkled across his snow pants. A chilled breath of air whispered across his cheeks. A snowflake, a dot of wonderous, lacy perfection, landed on his thumb. Inhaling deep, fearful of what he might find -- or worse -- not find, he slid around the boulder.

Standing there, covered in muted, glittery dust of ground granite, was Darcy. Unharmed. She looked at Reed. Every shaggy, ragged, ungroomed thought about her life had distilled into the kind of clarity that only comes with the wisdom of time; time measured by mountains, by stone, and by ancient waters that have traversed the planet for millennia. What could be said? Exulansis took over.

Eventually, disorientation turned into laughter. "You were right. The mountain took care of me.”

Together, they skied gently down to the world waiting for them below.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If you enjoyed this story, please leave a little love by clicking the heart below. It will make me very happy. :-)

A version of "The Secrets of Snow & Stone" was originally published on Medium, under my pen name, Elizabeth Eugene.