Ok, my buddy Fred wanted one last trip up the tram. The snow in Lennon that morning was great so we wanted to try Marx. We made our way off Challenger via the LRT, this is a great shortcut if you have never used it. Basically you go skiers right down country club until you see a little sign posting, LRT. You then traverse over until you are at the end of the A-Z chutes and find a chute and "Walla"you are down to the triple chair and on your way up to the tram (No Mr K and no Cold Current chair ride to endure).

Ok so now we are on our way up and the snow is getting heavier. We know we are in for some great Pow. After reaching the top the Patrol informed us of limited visibility. We looked at each other and smiled as it brought back memories of a ride form the previous season when we sent some virgin boarders back down the tram so as not to get lost forever on top. We were now back in our skis and on our way to the Yetti when I laughed again thinking of Fred earlier this season laying on his back with both of his teli’s hanging in the air wrapped around one of the Yedi’s fence posts. The Yetti was basically a rock canyon at that time. But today the path was perfect.
 
We made our way over to Marx and started to make creamy turns in over knee deep high powder. We had face shot after face shot. Marx was never better and my skiing despite the 3 beer lunch was flawless and I was felling pretty good about myself as we approached the end of the run. We emptied out on to the Duckroad heading for the bar. We then decided that we could not pass up the delicious turns of Paradise so we ducked in. Again it was perfect with more face shots as we made our way down to the middle road for the long boring traverse in. Or so I thought…. 

Now, Lower on the mountain the snow was actually falling heavier and the visibility was very poor. As we were skate skiing down the traverse we came to a meadow area where you can bypass a section of the traverse and generally get a few extra really good turns in. Fred was ahead of me and there was no doubt where he was heading or that I was following. We grabbed a few more great turns and came down to what I thought was again the traverse. I could no longer see Fred ahead of me but feeling the flat traverse under my feet I had no logical reason to slow down. BIG MISTAKE!

 The next thing I felt was me flying down a 15 foot drop that delivered me back to the Middle road traverse that I had believed I was already on. When I finally bottomed out onto the traverse I was instantly spat out like a watermelon seed. I jettisoned off and then out the other side literally flying like a bird without being able to see anything.

 My life did not pass thru my eyes so I knew I was probably going to live. My only question was if I was going to be a vegetable or not. Finally I hit with a thud! My head hit something hard and I think I had achieved a 360 somersault of some kind. I lay motionless for a moment and then I heard someone ask if I was ok. I gathered myself, felt around and said “Yes I think so”. I then looked up and realized I was some 20 yards down the embankment. I started to get up when I realized I was short a ski. It was at this time that an "explicative" was first uttered! I looked for the ski in my general area while trying not to step in to a snow well that just might bury me over my head.

The nice couple that had stopped offered to help me look but I told them this incident was God’s way of obviously telling me I needed some new skis with a minimum of at least 100 ML underfoot. I had to use my poles and remaining ski as levers to help push my way up the embankment. Upon reaching the top I needed to be literally pulled up as it was too steep to climb.

Finally out and back on my two feet. I thanked the couple for their Montana friendliness. I was then ready to strap back on my remaining ski and traverse the remaining mile plus to the base area. I definitely felt the burn of one leg skiing and I got going a little too fast a couple of times but only fell once on my way in.

As I walked to the base area towing just the one ski I got some funny looks. I placed the now lonely plank into the snow bank and made my way into Whiskey Jacks. It was there that I heard the familiar cackling voice of my friend Fred asking my why I had only ski. After thanking him for his concern I mentioned a certain body part that he could kiss. At about this time the first of the many future beers to be consumed that evening commenced!

The moral of the story is find a better friend then Fred and never take any run for granted because 100% of the time your biggest wipeouts are on your "last  run of the day"!!