By: Christopher Maffei
This time I was ready! – (but), conversely I was late.
In a semi-jog and with powder skis in hand, the helicopter came into view. I placed my skis into the helicopter’s utility basket, grabbed the airframe strap, and hopped into the AS-350. Then, strapped on my belt – and closed the door. As I looked at the 3 other passengers they were not amused that I was fashionably late. Europeans, especially those of German descent always needed everything to be perfect.
I picked up the headset and started to listen to a mix of French and German over the intercom and apologized in French. Without a word, the pilot started the rotor and the whining of electricity was pulsating through the starter motor. As I looked out through the plexiglass, onto the landing area. The pulsating electricity turned into the sound of a turbine. The rotors were at speed and the pilot looked in the mirrors and pulled up on the collective. At that moment, the machine lifted into the air. I could feel the force of gravity pull down gently on my spine. As we lifted the rotor wash kicked up a thin cloud of ice from the ground and we were off.
Once again my life was in someone else’s hands. What a life it was. To make myself feel better, I started to ask myself some ridiculous philosophical questions.
Such as, ” How could a mishmash of random particles in the universe come together to form this beautiful machine that I was flying in? ”
The odds of it seemed beyond incomprehensible. Yet, there it was – and here I am. This tactic put me in a frame of mine of unlimited possibilities and I relaxed– delusional yet satisfying.
We started to fly over Zermatt. An area that has a dream-like effect on your senses and a place that automobiles are not allowed. To the left, I looked through the plexiglass to see the ice-covered Matterhorn. As we turned to the West. The warmth of the sun was starting to give me a tingling sensation on my face. A warming feeling I always loved as a boy.
These flights always relaxed me as well as my muscles. It was the wrong feeling. I was going to a place that was a (possible) avalanche area.
The Helicopter was on approach to the landing area, I twisted my belt off and the machine gently touched down. I stepped out, grabbed my skis and poles. So, did the others. The machine lifted off and there I was with a fantastic view. A view that I was somehow becoming accustomed to.
Unlike the year before, I had the correct skis and equipment. Most importantly, I had taken the time to practice in deep powder. I told the others that I did not want to spoil their virgin powder and to start first. As the first two started, I noticed they immediately started an avalanche. To me, It was the end of the world, but, to them, it was child’s play. They skied through it and past it in 15 seconds.
I looked at the guide and said with an even California tone: No way
Looking downslope, it was like looking down into the Abyss. A layer of clouds was obscuring the valley floor. The grade of the slope made for a feeling of being on top of Mount Olympus. On top of the highest peak with the Gods! An entity that I may be meeting very soon, I thought to myself. For God’s sake, how would I be judged!? I guess that would depend on who is judging.
Therefore, I needed to get down in one piece. When you are dropped off by helicopter, there is literally nothing around you – no lifts, no comforting cafes, and no people. Nothing. Nothing but Intense beauty and a feeling of loneliness. Thank goodness I had my babysitter! A woman with one purpose in life, to get me safely down the run.
So, with my one-z zipped up and powder skis clipped on. I started down. In deep powder, speed is the key! So are wide skis. That being the case, my practice during the early winter paid off. My fear started to melt away and I was in control floating and turning.
Even still, my guide passed me like I was standing still. She jumped off a rock to get well ahead of me to make sure the path was good.
I stopped and look down from the rock she jumped from. It was at least 40 feet.
Within 5 minutes, she traversed down an area of land that has claimed the lives of countless people over the years – as if it did not even matter. And as I stood looking down the precipice. I thought to myself, who were these people? The Swiss have an oversupply of good skiers, that’s true. But, this was something completely different. I thought to myself, was this kid from the future?
As I made my way down with care. I stopped down where Yasmin was waiting at the foot of the next cliff. And with complete sincerity without one hint of sarcasm.
She asked me, ” Kwis, how are you? Are you okay? ”
Completely emasculated, I lowered my head with a smile and I said, ” I could not be better, thank you for waiting “
What I saw next, capped the day off for me. *Yasmin started down again, started a significant avalanche – skied right out of it. Then, motion for me to come down. Without the slightest fear, she then went down one more chute.
The last half of the run was all about speed– keeping above the snow. Nevertheless, I wiped out and it took me 15 minutes to get going again. Still, this was much better than last year and there was some light at the end of the Swiss tunnel.
The speed at which Yasmin and her friends negotiated some of the most difficult skiing in the world was not human to me. Even if you ski every day at that level. At most, you can only get 3 months of good skiing out of the year. And the kid was only 22. Therefore, the only conclusion that can be drawn, is that these kids are gifts from the Gods. Immortal beings – on loan from Mount Olympus.
The truth is, watching Yasmin get down the mountain that day made me a better skier. I have been skiing all my life and this was far beyond chairlifts, groomed slopes, and Royal families at Swiss cafes.
I love the snowy winters and it has always been a magical time for me. The time that the snow is skiable is short. So is life. Being lifted down from the heavens to ski with the children of the Gods is even rarer still.
( * ) Name has been changed
Photos From Operator