Danger on Loon Mtn.

Ice is not a Friend on the Slopes

While my children were growing up, we lived in New Hampshire for several years. One of the things we loved doing as a family in the winter was snow skiing. It only took us about an hour to drive north to the ski areas in the White Mountains.

Our favorite was Loon Mountain. It had three separate peaks for skiing and a great bunch of ski lifts, from gondolas, to chair lifts, and T-bars for the bunny trails. My daughters all learned on the bunny trails and then moved up to the intermediate blue circle trails. No one in our family was at the most difficult black diamond level.

My youngest, Heather, was in 8th grade. She and I liked South Peak where 60% of the trails were blue circle. Our two favorites were Boom Run and Cruiser. They were on either side of the other 40% of the trails down South Peak which were all black diamond. We decided on Boom Run, the longer trail of the two.

The night before, there had been a brief period of frozen rain. We decided if Boom Run was at all icy, one run would be enough. It would be hard work staying on the trail and there was no sense taking any chances.

About halfway down, we hit an icy patch and we had trouble holding an edge with our skis. We both dropped to a sitting position to scoot to the edge of the trail where the plowed snow was piled. There would be more traction there and we could slowly work our way down, on our butts, if we had to.

What we didn’t know was just how slippery it would be trying to traverse sideways over ice and we could not stop sliding. As Heather got close, I grabbed her skis and pulled her toward me, but our momentum took us toward an open gap on the left where a sign was posted: Black Diamond: Danger.

I yelled for her to keep leaning hard to the left and I did the same. Luckily we were able to get to the piled snow and I had to let my skis and poles go so I could dig the toes of my ski boots into the snow.

I don’t know how long we sat there, but it had to be close to an hour. Then a member of the ski patrol came by and asked if we were in trouble. We told him we were and he used his walkie-talkie to call for more help. A few minutes passed and another member of the ski patrol came pulling two “sled-like” things we had to climb inside and then be strapped into —they looked like coffins without lids.

Each had a strap that went from the ski patrol guy’s waist to our “sled”. They skied down to the bottom of the mountain with us flying behind … FAST … very FAST! I was never so terrified in my life —so much so that I was afraid to open my eyes. I only hoped they were black diamond skiers and they knew what they were doing. I didn’t want to go flying off the mountain out into the cosmos …

If there was anything even remotely funny about the ordeal, it was at the bottom when Heather told her sisters and her dad,

“… THAT was so much fun!”

(who ARE you, child?)