The Independent Newspaper © 2009

8 Beyond

The Independent Newspaper © 2009

9Beyond

The air was crisp and I could feel a gentle breeze through my favorite boarding cap.

I stood at the top of Mount Kato, Minn. Of course, this place hardly has a mount.

It's more like a small mound; it’s nothing like the mountains.

I knew this but, I had never seen real mountains. This would have to do for now.

Thirty seconds was all it took to get down. Thirty seconds was all I got before

I had to stop and ride the lift back up.Of all my friends there are only a few

that enjoy the sport of snowboarding as much as I do. Timothy Rutledge is one of them.

I never really knew him, but we had mutual friends.

One weekend afternoon, Timothy invited me out to the mounds. Nonchalantly, I accepted his invitation but, secretly, I was thrilled.

Timothy wasn't an experienced snowboarder and this he admitted to once I arrived. I found it amusing and was quite flattered when he’d ask for my guidance.

Timothy and I were having a lovely time together. He had a certain genuine nonjudgmental attribute about himself and he had smile that was so genuine and pure.

Eventually, the topic of traveling was

discussed and he told me of a road trip he was leaving for in a week.

He and two of his friends planned a last minute trip out to Colorado and California for Spring Break from Minnesota.

Unexpectedly, Tim invited me to come along.

Initially, I thought he was playing a mean trick on me but, he really meant it. I, of course, could never turn down such an awesome opportunity. I was ecstatic.

I was going on the trip of a lifetime. The best part was that our hotel and

gas were all paid for and all I had to pay for was the lift tickets and whatever else I wanted. We were leaving in a week.

Before I knew it, I was packing and then it was Friday we were on our way.

We drove for about 15 hours before we arrived at our destination, Estes Park, Colo., and proceeded to sleep in the local food market parking lot.

It was a horribly cold and wet slumber, if you could even call it that, but I found comfort in snuggling up next to Timothy for a bit.

The next morning I awoke early because that was the day we were going backcountry snowboarding.

We started at the base of the Rocky Mountain National Park where there was more than a foot of powder and it seemed like every step I took I had to take an additional two just to make headway.

Sometimes my foot would go through and I'd find myself waist deep in fresh white powder.

The climb was tough and I fell behind the boys often, but Timothy would be right there to encourage me.

Many times the boys offered to carry my board and pack but I refused every time—I wanted to earn my ride down.

There was no way I would let them

take that from me. Time seemed to linger and every time

I looked up I could never see the peak. It was discouraging, but I knew I could do it.

Finally, two and a half hours later, I successfully reached to the summit.

We hiked 2,200 vertical feet, one of the most physical climbs I had ever accomplished and I felt so invigorated—I was at the top of the world.

The snow there was raw and untouched and the powder shimmered in the sun ever so delicately.

Soon, we began our decent and butterflies seemed to move from my knees all the way up through my spine.

About half way down I remembered scouting about seven tree bluffs that covered a creek.

Tree bluffs are where the snow makes drifts in between trees making some natural jibs and gaps. They occurred on both sides of the creek. They look like soft delicate pillows.

The creek below kept the snow weak in the middle of them all so we had to have enough speed to jump between each bluff.

As I approached them I thought to myself, “I don't want to get caught in the middle.”

I successfully cleared the first two bluffs but the third was too far to reach and I fell forward trying to catch part of the tree branch and barely missed.

My weight couldn't be supported so I fell shoulder deep in the snow with a layer beneath me giving way.

I cried for help, but my partners had

already ridden past me. No one was around, and there was no way they were going to find me.

I had to save myself.I initially tried to pull myself up with

just my arms, but the snow just kept giving way. The weight of the snow on my board was too much so I cleared some of it off and tried to loosen the board once more.

I fell again and the water was getting so close.

I undid my bindings and loosened my feet. My board started to slip, but I caught it just in time.

I threw my board up above me into the unforgiving powder. My most priceless possession was safe now.

Then it was my turn.I made my own footings and packed

them down with the plan that I was going to climb out, but I had to do it slowly and carefully. Little by little I climbed and once I got high enough I pulled and grasped anything within my reach.

I got my body up on top and flattened out. I dug inwards towards the tree and held on.

I made it. I was safe and so was my board.

After that experience, the rest of the ride down was liberating. No mountain was going to consume me—I was invincible once more.

I told myself I was coming back, because here I got more than thirty seconds.

--Stephanie Forstner

Photo Courtesy | Stephanie ForstnerAdventures with Forstner on her snowboard locally and around the United States.