D.O.A.

In all honesty, the approach to the large couloir affectionately known as D.O.A (Dead On Arrival), was more dangerous than the skiing itself. The 40-minute bootpack to access the out-of-bounds chute ends in what today was a somewhat hairy traverse. Right above the entrance to the couloir, the sun had baked the snow to an ice-slick so firm it was nearly impossible to hold an edge to traverse the 20 feet to safety. Had the consequence of a fall not been a 500 foot slide punctuated by rocks and ice, we probably would have skied across. However, we had to pop off the skis and use our boots to punch through the icy sun-crust to the soft snow below. The three of us, Chelsea, Paul and I, got across safely and clipped into our skis to begin the descent. Paul chose this moment to tell us a story about the ice we had just crossed. He started off "I saw a man die once in this situation. He slip and fell maybe 500 meters down the slope." This, as we're about to enter a couloir named DOA.

I had no intention of skiing hard today. In fact, I slept in till 10, ate a leisurely breakfast and meandered over to the ski hill around noon. I planned on skiing alone for a couple hours, just taking it easy. Imagine my suprise when I showed up at the shop and Paul and Chelsea were ready to shred. So we skied DOA.

Skiing the couloir mandates some caution. The chute isn't all that steep, maybe between 35-40 degrees; nevertheless, a fall is dangerous--it would be easy to slide onto the rocks. Sideslipping is a no-no because the fresh snow can sluff on the lower icy layer and knock you or your companions over. At its narrowest point, the couloir is maybe 8-9 feet wide. Basically you just jump-turn your way through the narrow section until it opens up a little. Overnight wind had deposited about 1-2 feet of snow, which rested on an icy base, making the conditions a little tricky. On any given turn you were thigh-deep or on ice. In other words, it was really fun.

Unbelievable, really. By the time we reached the bottom, the big goofy grin stretched across my face was in danger of becoming permanent. After a week of skiing bulletproof, overcrowded groomers, this reminded me why I love skiing. Ah, it was spectacular!! We had sunny skies and knee deep snow, 20*F on the thermometer and good company.