After reading and discussing several short stories (and watching/discussing some films, too), my Comp II students had the option of writing an analysis of one of the stories/films or writing an original short story of their own. (They could also choose to write an original script for a short film and shoot it if they were feeling extra ambitious.)

Many of the short stories were imaginative, dark, and just fun to read. (I even wrote one myself, which I’ll share here in a week or two.) Jacks’s story, below, had particular resonance for me, as I could relate to his characters’ passion for wild spaces (even though I’m not a skier like them, nor do I have their youthful insouciance). I’m grateful to Jack for letting me share his work here. Enjoy!

British Columbia, Canada, is home to some of the best backcountry skiing in the entire world. Jagged mountain peaks jut out from the earth in every direction. For Evan and Simon, these mountains were like a second home. Whether it was skiing in the winter, biking in the summer, or hiking in the fall, the two friends were always doing something in the mountains.

This trip was just like the ones they had done many times before, up through the mountains of the infamous Rogers Pass. It was a dangerous area, with avalanches being common and the weather unpredictable. But nevertheless, the two had checked the forecasts and decided it was safe. The avalanche risk was only two out of five, and while it was not great, they were well equipped and knew where to go to stay out of dangerous terrain.

The forecast predicted clear skies for three days of the four-day tour, with up to 15 centimeters of snow forecasted for the second day of their trip.

“That snow coming on Monday could be an issue,” said Evan, “but it looks like it will just accumulate over the course of the day. We should be fine, and we will be getting fresh tracks all day!”

“Yeah, it will scare away all the inexperienced noobs and leave more snow for us,” responded Simon.

They finished their dinner and exchanged a few last words about the trip before heading to bed early so they would be well rested. No matter the experience level, multi-day ski touring trips require constant physical and mental fortitude, as the mountains change quickly and you have to know how to respond.

The loud sound of an alarm quickly jolted Simon awake. The clock read 4:45 am. He woke Evan before heading to the kitchen to make sure they had prepped enough food. They had three days' worth of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. On the third day, they planned to stop at a hut deep in the mountains of Glacier National Park that stored warm food and beds for ski tourers.

“Evan, are you almost ready to go?” asked Simon.

They had to leave by five o’clock to stay on schedule. Evan walked out, still groggy from waking up so early. He nodded before typing something on his phone and putting it in his pocket. Once they reached Roger’s Pass, the two hours of road with no gas, food, or just about anything but hiking trails, they would not have phone service until they drove out.

The GPS device that they used to stay on course had an SOS call function, but other than that, they would be completely alone. The rest of their friend group always called them crazy for going on these kinds of trips, but for these two, the feeling of fresh turns in meters of untouched powder with mountain peaks surrounding them, the reward always outweighed the risk. The crew loaded the car with their skis, bags, and coffee mugs, hopped in the car, and set off on their 3-hour drive to their starting location.

The nerves could be felt as they pulled into their spot. It was the excited nerves, the kind of nerves you get before starting a race or playing a soccer game. They were both excited but also knew the consequences of getting overconfident.

“Hey, bro,” Evan said, “you excited? It’s been a minute since we took this route.”

Simon laughed before responding, “Obviously, man. Hoping to cork 7 that booter off Avy Crest on our way back down. That jump gets bigger every year, and I know I can spin 720 off even smaller jumps. All I gotta do is add some twist; how hard could it be?”

They both smiled as they zipped up their matching blue jackets, clipped their backpacks in, strapped the climbing skins to their skis, and took one last sip of coffee. On their last day, they planned to build a nice jump in a zone not too far from the car. Trying to do crazy jumps on any other day was a death wish, as they would be too far to get help if something went bad.

“I’ll follow you. Let’s do this.”

Simon nodded and started the journey to their first zone. The sun had risen just enough to provide enough light in the woods, and the air was sitting at a calm -10 degrees Celsius. The mountain behind them was lit up with the rising sun, seemingly radiating in the spotlight. The road below was busy with cars rushing to get to Revelstoke, the ski resort on one side of the pass, or Kicking Horse, on the other side. A few other ski tourers were trekking up behind Evan and Simon, also chasing the fresh snow up in the high alpine.

It was around noon when they finally arrived at their first drop spot. It was a steep, narrow couloir that dropped into an open bowl with completely untouched snow. They stopped quickly to eat some lunch before getting ready to drop in.

“Man, this run is going to be dope,” said Evan.

“I agree," replied Simon, “but the wind had really picked up. Was it supposed to be this windy?”

Wind was normal, especially so high up, but the forecast had only predicted 30-40 kph gusts. These felt more like 70-75, a pretty big increase from the forecast. Dark clouds also loomed on the horizon. Evan looked around, protected from the wind by the steep walls of the couloir.

Noticing the dark clouds, he said, “Those clouds do not look good… I don’t think that was in the forecast. Maybe the snow is coming a day early?”

Simon nodded before responding, “Let's just drop this and see how it is after. You go first. Remember to ski out to the right and stop at the bottom right of the bowl.”

Evan nodded and clicked his poles together, excited for this run. “Dropping!”

He made quick turns to avoid the steep rock walls that would send him tumbling 100 meters below if he hit them. The snow was perfect, and Simon quickly followed, forming a figure eight with their two tracks before it opened up into the bowl, where they could make long, arching turns that they would remember for days.

“Yewwwwwwwwwww!” Simon yelled excitedly as he pivoted his weight to the front of his skis, hitting a nosebutter 360 off of a 2-meter rock drop.

When he eventually reached Evan, the two fell over backward into the fluffy snow, laughing.

“Holy cow, bro,” said Evan. “All that preparation and work was worth it for that run ALONE. Can’t believe we still have three and a half more days of that.”

“Agreed. Let’s get packed up so we can get to our next drop spot in time so we have time for one more before dark,” said Simon.

In their rush and excitement to get to the next drop, they failed to notice the dark clouds that were now practically upon them. In a matter of minutes, the weather had changed from a perfect bluebird day with little clouds to complete whiteout conditions. The wind whipped snow and sharp ice crystals at their cheeks, making it impossible to see more than five feet in front of them. In the wide-open bowl, they were completely helpless against the elements.

“Evan,” Simon yelled, desperate to make sure they did not split up.

Twenty feet ahead of him, Evan ducked down and started digging to make a desperate attempt at a shelter. The wind muted any of Simon’s attempts to call out to Evan. Despite being ten feet apart, both felt completely isolated on the blank canvas of ice in every direction.

Simon, still standing on his skis, was pushed over by the wind. Tumbling down the snow, he desperately stuck his ice axe in the snow above him, bringing him to a stop. Fear forced its way into both of the friends' minds. How much longer would these conditions last? Where was my friend? How did we not see this coming?

Evan snapped out the negative thoughts and just kept digging. “Right now,” he muttered, “I just have to stay alive. I can worry about finding Simon later.”

His cheeks had gone numb by now, and all he felt was cold as the ice continued to pierce through the air. He quickly tucked himself into the hole he had dug for himself, covering his head with his large backpack. It provided temporary relief from the elements, and he tried to focus on figuring out what to do next instead of worrying about anything else.

Simon struggled to get a footing against the wind, as his skis prevented him from being able to walk much. Taking them off was too big of a risk, as there was a good chance he would tumble down the slope trying to undo the bindings. Covered in fresh snow and ice, applying the required force to pop them off would surely cause him to lose his balance. Even so, if he somehow managed to get out, there was no way to make sure his skis did not tumble down the side of the mountain, leaving him stranded if he survived the blizzard. He looked down at the grey void below him, not knowing if there was a cliff right there or a flat patch of land.

Knowing he could not take any chances, he buried his skis into the snow and lay flat pressed against the side of the slope. He had to be careful not to get buried in, as the snow was coming down so fast he could see the snow rising right beside him. Not even five minutes later, he rolled over to prevent the snow from becoming too heavy on top of him. As he lay down flat again, a loud rumble filled the air, cutting through the howl of the wind. An avalanche.

Simon watched as large chunks of snow flew down beside him, quickly covering the area he had just been lying in with a 10-foot wall of snow. Had he been lying there as he was a minute ago, he would have been crushed by the sheer amount of snow. Even if he managed to stay alive after that, he would have been buried beneath a suffocating amount of snow. He shuddered to think about how lucky he was before realizing that Evan could have been caught in that avalanche, since he did not know where Evan was at all.

“EVAN,” he yelled again, praying for his friend's voice to respond from somewhere in the void. No response.

“Don’t panic, don’t panic, stay calm. He is probably just fine,” Simon thought to himself. He pushed away the urge to cry or shout in anger and instead started trying to work his way up the mountain.

Meanwhile, Evan was quickly realizing that he would be buried in his hole if he did not start clearing the snow out. He made a scoop with his mittens and started to desperately shovel snow out of the hole. In the process of digging out his downhill side to make sure it was sturdy, the new, weak layer of snow disconnected from the base, causing an avalanche.

He urgently stepped back as a foot of snow fell from beneath his feet, almost sending him tumbling down into the avalanche. Scared to move, he hunkered down behind the wall he had built and started to cry. It was so cold that the fresh tears turned to ice before making it off his frostbitten cheeks.

He wondered what he had done to deserve being in this situation. Twenty minutes ago, he was riding the line for a lifetime with his best friend. But now he was trapped in an eternal abyss of snow and ice, unsure where Simon was and if he was even still alive. They had checked the weather a million times before setting off, even checking right before entering the pass to triple-check it was good weather. This powerful squall had seemingly formed instantaneously, bringing cold hell to the innocent skiers rising the mountain below.

The cold was setting in, and Evan did not know how much longer he could make it before freezing to death. Just as he was about to give up on trying to survive, the wind suddenly stopped. The dark clouds still remained, and snow kept falling, but the visibility cleared up. While still not great, the outline of the peak of the mountain became visible, and below, he could see the path of the avalanche he had triggered. The sheer size it had accumulated shocked him, as it started out as just a small slide. The avalanche descended as far as he could see down the bowl and widened out at the bottom like the Mississippi River’s start.

Evan desperately looked around him, trying to find any evidence of where Simon had gone. But between the previous wind and the dumping snow, there were no tracks anywhere in sight. He started to get worried that maybe the avalanche had taken Simon with it, in which case he was almost certainly dead by now. But before he started freaking out, he noticed a blue blur halfway down the slope.

“Simon!” He yelled out, hoping to see movement. There was no response, but he hung onto a string of hope that it was his friend. He quickly unstrapped his skis from his backpack and stumbled to get them on. Carefully making his way down so as not to set off another avalanche, he raced to see if it was his friend. Once he reached about halfway, the blur suddenly yelled out:

“EVAN!? Please say that’s you!”

“Simon, are you ok?” he quickly responded, skiing the rest of the way down. Simon stood up, shaking all of the freshly fallen snow off his jacket.

“Thank god you are ok. I thought I lost you, bro,” they both said unanimously.

They dapped up, both feeling a weight lifted off of their shoulders, knowing that they had both made it out alive.

“Well, that was… something,” Simon said.

“Tell me about it,” Evan responded, “I am just happy we made it through. Where did that even come from?”

Simon shook his head before responding, “I do not think it's the best idea to keep going. As much as it sucks, we just need to get back in the car so we can warm up. Besides, clearly, the avalanche danger is way too high now to even do anything.”

Evan quickly agreed and started heading down into the woods that led back to the car. The two carefully made their way down, the effort of each turn slowly warming them back up. The path back down had completely disappeared in the new snow, but the pair used their trusty GPS tool to somehow make it down.

“I don't think I have ever been so happy to see a car,” Simon said when they reached the parking lot.

As the two quickly cleared the car of snow and loaded it back up, they sank into the car seats with a sigh of relief. The pair returned to their apartment just before midnight. The roads were sketchy, and they took it slow to make sure they got home in one piece. They did not even bother to unload the car and beelined for their warm clothes and beds.

“What just even happened?”

The reality of their adventure had set in, and Evan shook his head before responding, “I don't even know, man…”

“Don’t tell your girl about this,” Simon joked. “She would never let you go ski touring again.”

Evan laughed. Despite nearly dying, they knew they would only stop ski touring when they physically couldn't anymore.

“Wait until our friends hear about this, if they even believe it. But hey, since we both took off work already, Kicking Horse tomorrow? The powder should be fresh all day.”

Simon agreed before saying goodnight and heading to his room. Evan grinned and took a moment to realize how crazy it would be to explain to a non-skibum how he almost died one day skiing and still went skiing the next day. The two had a surprisingly mellow reaction to what had just happened. While they did almost die, the two lived to ski another day, and both lived to tell the tale.

“Good dad lore,” he thought to himself before tucking in for the night, excited for the next day of skiing. But maybe he would think twice about calling out people for being “noobs” again…