As I dropped in, I aggressively committed to the trough, threw a couple of wide-track survival turns and my head nearly exploded with excitement as I celebrated this amazing ski milestone for me. Perma-grins the rest of the day.
Friday I had a great day hiking above Coombs and taking some fun shaded runs through woods bordering Tower Three and off of Sublette.
After lunch at the Moose (which ended in a chimney fire...) we boarded the tram. My buds were divided between Rock Sorings Bowl and Corbet's, so I made the executive decision to hit the couloir.
I stepped into the starting gate, pushed off and made my hop-turn down into the trough. Except I missed. Instead, both skis launched over the trough like a kicker and sent me tumbling. As I gasped for air from the snow packed into my face, I knew I had to stop, but the acceleration was too great. Eventually I had the odd feeling of something flopping at the end of my leg. It turned out to be my foot and lower leg. I stopped well below the last indicator rock, just about to the traverse.
On self-arresting, I immediately screamed for patrol as my friends dropped in, climbed up, and supported me. Patrol arrived soon and assessed me and dug me out, moving me into the sled as my bones popped during the splinting process.
They skidded me down as smoothly as possible over 3200 vertical of tough snow and as I glided into the patrol facility, it was like being slid from an ambulance straight into an ER.
I must give incredible gratitude to the patrol, and the medical staff at the mountain and at St. John's Medical Center here in Jackson. They have all been incredibly professional, warm, competent, and caring. We are all blessed to have folks like these watching our backs on the hill.