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There By The Grace of The Ski Gods

. . . or, Why I missed the "Fun Race" This Week

By Wayne Sheldrake

Mitchell Maltsberger was 15 years old when, on Dec. 31, 2007, he skied off a wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail, collided with a tree and died instantly. The accident was reported in local papers on January 2.

Mitch was on vacation from Oklahoma for the Christmas holidays visiting a small ski area in southwestern Colorado with his family. He was to participate as a groomsman in his sister's wedding soon after the vacation.
It is implied that in the moments before the crash, before he lost control, Mitch was having fun. Mitch was wearing a helmet.

Nationally, about 37 skiers and snowboarders have died per year over the last decade, according to the National Ski Areas Association.

I was skiing at that same small ski area on Jan. 3, specifically to test out a pair of very fast skis in preparation for a "fun race," held regularly on a wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail.
Confessing a ghoulish curiosity (over the years I'd nearly died twice in collisions with trees at that same ski area, collisions that occurred moments after I had been skiing very fast on wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trails and briefly lost control), I asked around for details.
The crash happened just over the moderate pitch of a wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail I knew well. There's a chairlift close by, which means people likely saw it happen.
Years ago, I'd fallen on that same pitch, but well above the trees, tucking very fast on a pair of 225cm downhill skis. During the fall, the right ski released, ricocheted off the snow and gashed through three layers of ski clothes to the bone of my left shin. Bleeding, I was taken to the bottom of the mountain on a patrol sled.
The occasion of tucking that pitch was that I had seen from the base area that morning a wide, smooth and freshly-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail at the top of the mountain. I was first on the chair and went straight for it.
I was not wearing a helmet.
I still remember the thrill in the moment before I fell. The snow was as neat and smooth as a fairway, and fast as a saw-dusted bowling alley.

When poor Mitch was found, he was already gone. For a second it was thought the impact had yanked his ski coat from his arms and twisted it around backwards on him. It was quickly discovered that it wasn't the coat that had been twisted around.

During the 2006-07 season, 22 skiers and snowboarders died. Eighteen were skiers, two were snowboarders, and in two cases the equipment used was reported as unknown. Seventeen of the 22 skiing fatalities were males.

By the time I heard this I'd already skied a few runs on wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trails, at speeds that were . . . fast - faster than I usually ski on snow much faster than it had been lately, and on skis much faster than I usually ski on.
To avoid heavier than normal vacation crowds, I nudged to the shoulders of wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trails. Though I skied closer than normal to the trees, I was having fun.
I was wearing a helmet.

The National Ski Areas Association reports that the increasing use of helmets among skiers and snowboarders has reduced the overall rate of head injuries, but it has not affected the fatality rate.

The strike and power and clarity of the edges of the very fast skis, found with a little tweak of stance and a specific niggle of technique, was irresistible. Thin, deep, silver-filled gouges elegantly gashed the boney snow. The delicacy of the tracks was . . . beautiful.
A deep, nearly tucked stance enhanced their performance even more and infused each run with an evocative psychic sheen - as if the speed and rhythm of the sinew-like turns stripped away time. In my legs and arms, and then my core, I felt that unmindedness, that agelessness, that brilliant unburdening vividness for which the soul's appetite seems endless so seldom aroused in common experiences,.
Maybe because I felt like I was 15, it was almost impossible not to think of Mitch, which meant the memory of the fall I'd taken above his spot was almost impossible to block out, too.

No significant reduction in fatalities has occurred over the last nine seasons - even as the use of helmets has increased to more than 33 percent, the association reported.

I did avoid the wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail where Mitch had last skied, but by the end of the day I was tucking frigid, desolate groomed intermediate runs in the indigo shadows of a post-solstice evening. I was probably too tired to be tucking by then, but the hip-torquing, vertebrae wringing, thigh-seizing pain seemed to add to the mesmerizing fun.

Jasper Shealy, a professor emeritus at the Rochester Institute of Technology in Rochester, N.Y., conducted research that found fatalities were most likely to occur on wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trails.

I went home that evening looking forward to the upcoming "fun race," held regularly on a wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail. While I drank a couple of self-congratulatory beers, I watched the news.
While I was skiing that January 3, 2008, an 11-year-old boy had died skiing. He was on vacation from the United Kingdom with his family at a large ski area in northern Colorado. He'd hit a tree. He had been skiing too fast on a wide, smooth and well-groomed intermediate-level "blue" trail. People saw it happen.
His name was Benjamin Trichler.
I had to assume that in the moments before the crash, before he lost control, Ben was having fun.
He had a helmet on.

(With thanks to the 2008 Durango Herald article, "Skier dies after hitting tree at Wolf Creek," for quotes from the NSAA and RIT.)

Wayne Sheldrake is the author of Instant Karma: the Heart and Soul of a Ski Bum.