TR: Pillows Part II 2.6.06
SheRa, iskibc
Routt County
It lives in my dreams, it tinkers with my sanity. It stokes the fire inside, but also fuels the fear. It's a problem waiting to be solved, but one with high consequence.
For the past several years I've stared at "the line" in wonder and awe, trying to figure out its complexity. It's daunting and towering face looks down onto the creek 120' below. It stands at the entrance to the canyon with its near vertical pitch and rock ledges. It intimidates. It haunts. It challenges. It manipulates. It takes over the mind. This is what it's all about.
The Line:
Do you ever get tired of making excuses? Do you ever regret those missed opportunities? I wasn't about to let this one slip through for another year. I didn't want to make another excuse for not attempting it. The fear and unknown needed to be put aside.
There I stood looking over the edge.
Is this even the same line, I thought to myself. It's amazing how everything changes when you look at it from a different perspective. From this point it looked like one pillow drop to a 90' drop to the river below. Suddenly, I felt like a suicide jumper contemplating his/her destiny. The cold sweat began to run down my back. I couldn't let that "gripped" feeling overcome my body. Not now. I took a deep breath, refocused, and shifted my thoughts to the task at hand.
Standing near the top of the line. Where's Waldo?:
Over the years I've done a pretty good job at separating my emotions from the task. I've learned how to use the "gripped" feeling to my advantage. I worked myself into a deep focus on the line. Each and every move was worked through in my mind. I visualized these moves over and over again. Every now and then my mind would slip and my thought process would change from the mechanics of skiing the line to the potential risks and consequences. I noticed I now had a crowd watching below. Tourists and day hikers passing by were gaping up at the crazy man standing atop the canyon wall. I hate crowds. I can't stand the center of attention. But, I couldn't let it get to me. Then my thoughts switched over to the upper snow pack instability we had encountered 20 minutes earlier on a pillow line. The top 12" had sheared clean and fast from under my skis as I stood atop the line. Would it do the same on this aspect and pitch? Obviously, the line is a "no fall zone", so that was of concern. Too much slough and my day could be ruined in a hurry. There was a lot more exposed rock in the line from the view at the top. More exposed rock than I would like to deal with.
I didn't let these negative thoughts get to my head. I quickly refocused on my first move and blocked everything else out. It's amazing how focused the mind can get on a single task. Sounds and sights around me became non-existent. The only thing I remember seeing was the small pillow landing 10' below me.
The first quarter of the line was actually fairly easy. A couple of jump turns off pillow ledges, and some side slipping brought me down to the first crux. The face was much more fluted than I had thought it would be. I had to make my way across a flute towards the center of the face, but I was in an awkward position to do so. My skis kept slipping from underneath, sending me a couple of feet down the fall line each time. I needed to get over or else I would be stuck in a narrow chute filled with rock. Took some deep breaths and then went for the next move. I made it over the flute and quickly banked a jump turn onto the next pillow.
Phew! Made it without incident. Now my skis were dangling over air, and I couldn't see my next move, which was supposedly below me. I glanced over at SheRa across the river and she helped me through the next crux. Skiing part of a line blindly and putting your trust into your partner to get your through safely is an intense feeling. I took another deep breath, swung my skis around and made the leap to the next set of pillows. Some slough waterfalled over my head as I landed on the ledge. Besides that, the move was flawless. I glanced over at SheRa and gave her thumbs up to say "thanks". The rest of the line was in plain sight, so I took a quick breather, pointed my skis off the first pillow, slapped the second pillow, and aired to the apron.
A huge release of stress and excitement escaped my body at once. Across the river I heard the small crowd that had gathered cheering. It felt good to be on flat ground. It felt good to have nailed the line without making any mistakes. I stood there for a minute or two and glanced up at the line. Again, it looked nothing like it did when I stood on top. I felt great to get another monkey off my back. I can't thank SheRa enough for guiding me through the crux of the line. I hadn't had this type of feeling since the summer when we skied the Bell Cord. Felt good to push myself again.
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