My Story Contest 2: Surviving an 800ft cliff

Alpine Wisdom!

For a majority of my life I have kept a cavalier attitude toward the many aspects of living. I strived to keep a light heart and a nimble foot when facing all challenges, both physical and mental. I stubbornly maintained a pride in my ability to adapt to any critical situation to the point of overconfidence. Yet nature has an almost poetic way of humbling you, and it was high up an icy mountain that I received one of nature’s best lessons.

(Kachina Peak, Taos)

It was late winter, the sun beamed down through the snowcapped trees as I trudged up the summit of deception peak, alone. Thick chunks of snow occasionally falling on me as I parted branches in thick clusters of pines. A few hundred yards from the summit, the trees cleared in such a manner as if some imaginary barrier had stopped them from growing. The wind had turned from a mild chill to a stinging bite on my exposed face. The snow had stopped sticking to itself at this altitude and would blow as clouds over the summit. The snowboard strapped to my back acted as a sail as it caught the wind resulting in an offset equilibrium and growing uneasiness. As I reached the peak, the vista revealed a vast and beautiful landscape. Soon after the visual distraction, awe inspiring emotions flooded my body followed immediately by a rising sense of fear and anxiety as the realization of the dangers at hand set in. It is at this point where the few brave press on while most succumb to the fear and head back down the mountain.

(Deception Peak/Nambe Chutes during summer)

As I peered over the edge to calculate my best possible descent a thought briefly ran through my head, “Bravery? This is borderline stupidity.” I stared down an eight hundred foot couloir with many of the rocks dangerously exposed due to a low snow year. My cavalier attitude set in and I brushed the thought off. I pulled out my camera and quickly snapped a few photos before removing my snow shoes and snowboard to prepare for what I had originally intended to be a thrilling descent. Immediately after I powered off my camera the snow below my feet snapped, what felt like an eternity was merely one second. The little bit of snow that escaped from under my feet revealed I was above a vast sheet of ice lightly covered in a dusting of snow. I felt my body start to slide, and in one valiant effort I turned my body to face the mountain and stab both of my hiking poles into the ice. My attempt failed, the poles were insufficient to grip the ice, and my uncontrolled descent began. At this moment I frantically attempted to self-arrest with my poles and feet to no avail. As I glanced between my legs down the mountain I had the purest moment of clarity: I was never surer of anything in my entire existence, but that of my eminent death. As I uncontrollably approached the first set of rocks my body tensed in anticipation and the impact threw me in the air. As I tumbled lifelessly over the rocks, I felt my brain in its most carnal instinct fruitlessly tell my body to react. Jagged rock after rock I tumbled yet still fully conscious of my situation until suddenly an impact to my head turned the rest of the fall into a blur.

(Peering over edge during final ascent to chute enterance)

I awoke at the bottom cold, broken, bleeding, and alone. A quick self-assessment of the damages revealed shredded clothes, seeping blood, and a seemingly few cracked ribs; surprisingly I felt no pain. I stumbled to my feet and stared hopelessly up the couloir I just tumbled down in awe. Since I had done research of the area, I knew of a secondary route back to civilization; a twenty mile trek around the mountain range through snow back to the safety of my truck. That option would involve me spending the night in the wilderness with only a few power bars and a lighter in my backpack. My other option was to climb the icy chute back up to the summit. This path would be quicker but there was great potential of slipping and repeating the experience all over again. I chose the latter.

(Seconds before my uncontrolled descent)

Adrenaline is a beautiful thing, it allows our bodies to do miraculous things, without it there was no way I would have accomplished the daunting task before me. I only had one snow shoe and one trekking pole, my other shoe and pole were lodged on a rock halfway up. I started my ascent, my brain calculating every step up the ice. With every slip or unsure foot placement the realization of falling back down again was constantly in the back of my mind but I pressed on. My body became a machine, all parts performing in complete synchronization. As I neared my last few steps to the summit, each step became more delicate and more important. Almost in disbelief I reached the summit, I immediately collapsed to my knees and outstretched my arms to the heavens in a moment of triumph. Through my sheer will, a little luck, and the biological help of adrenaline, I had survived.
That was the day I started to change my perspective on life. Before this incident I put so much effort in living life to the fullest. I would set an ambitious challenge, race to conquer it, then move on to the next. I was living too fast, I needed to slow down and appreciate the simpler things rather than focus solely on the grandeur. I not only learned to breathe in the finer details but to enjoy them as well. In doing so this has wholly made life much more enjoyable. The mundane has become more savory, daily routines are no longer taken for granted. Nature has taught me that life is not about the destination but rather the adventure on the way.
Even my attitude had undergone an overhaul. Family and friends would tell me that I could be a little overconfident, but nature has an uncanny ability to humble a person. No matter how skilled you are, or how many times you have done this before, nature finds a way to instill a fear back in you. In extreme environments like this, respect of your surroundings is vital. I lost sight of that respect and the mountains were quickly there to remind me. From that day on every step I take into the backcountry is a slow calculated step. I consider myself very lucky to have received such an important lesson.

(Alberta Peak ascent with a climbing partner this time)

While the very nature of these sports will always involve danger, there are precautions one can take to greatly minimize the dangers. My biggest mistake in this mishap was being unprepared. Had I been wearing proper crampons and been using ice axes I would have greatly reduced my chances of falling. Had I attended avalanche safety courses I would have known how to properly check snow conditions. I would have known that there was only a thin layer of snow over the ice. All the talent in the world is no substitute for proper equipment and knowledge. These things are literal life savers and I never step one foot on the mountain without them.
While I am no stranger to close encounters with deadly situations, this experience stands out above the rest. Rarely have I had an opportunity to come face to face with my own mortality like this. While it may have been a frightening experience, it has truly become a defining moment in my life.

(Video of final ascent out of chutes to safety)