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A while ago I was riding Mammoth with long time locals Gabe Taylor, Bobby George, and Peter Benchetler when something of great wisdom and importance struck me–literally.

The day was what one would call epic. Some aggressive storm systems were pushing through the Sierra’s and it was snowing at an alarming rate–one of those, “it can’t snow any harder” type of days. After only a few runs of thigh deep powder it was apparent that this storm was changing the face of the mountain and was about to open things up. In the meantime we were “playing it safe” by riding the trees, In fact the little zone that ultimately changed my mood isn’t that well know, yet if you know where to go steep pitches through some old growth Jeffery Pines will grant you momentary nirvana, if only for a short time.

We pulled up and I thought I would film Gabe hit this little section with some amateur follow cam action. I had done all right with it the previous run on a mellower pitch so I thought, what the hell. As soon as Gabe dropped I gave him a second and followed. A second later than that I realized that this was in no way going to work as I was instantly blinded by his plume of smoke. The snow had stacked up here like nowhere else on the hill–it was easily 30 inches deep. Stunning follow cam footage abandoned, I break the opposite way and op for some glory of my own, yet the morning had another idea in mind. It was only after my initial turn away from the smoking alley to my left that I pointed it through a small funnel and was soon in need of a speed check. If you know anything about powder this deep and this light is that it amounts to a blinding wave of snow to the face know as “the white room”. While everyone raves about white rooming themselves it can be quite dangerous if you are in tight quarters, say surrounded by very hard, very numerous living organisms known as trees.

Here are the details of a tree: They are very tall and very strong. They are very old and they play a significant role in the development of our planet.

Ok, as if my inability to visualize anything was not enough I soon realized that all of the snow around me was moving downward in a mini avalanche through my gully. It has now been at least one second of elapsed time, a lifetime in terms of time split second decision making, and not only can I not see what is happening in my immediate surroundings but I am no longer in control and being pushed backwards and upside down towards… oh man… I hope not... BINGO!

Here are the details of my skull: It is round and of an odd shape. It has important squishy stuff inside yet plays a most insignificant role in the development of our planet.

Dazed and even more confused than usual I luckily regain composure and come to rest half buried in some still slowly moving snow. Knowing I may only have seconds of consciousness left, I scrambled frantically to get back on my board and finish the section through the trees so I could pop out to the relative safety of the marked run below.

I have about a minute off flat groomer to ride and assess what exactly has happened. Through some hazy half thoughts and blurred vision I realized that I should be okay. However, when you get cranked that hard, especially in the dome, it takes a minute to get your marbles in order if you know what I mean. Not knowing if this was no more than a nice little nugget brewing or a full scalping I decided to pull one of the bro’s aside at the bottom and ask for a little injury assessment–the last thing I want is the whole crew gawking at a massive flesh wound.

As we regroup at the bottom of the chairlift, high fives are flying and everyone is giving their respective “hells yeahs” while I am trying to keep my calm. I even dish out a couple fivers myself before I even ask…

Then I see my reflection in Bobby’s goggles, hear Peter say something to the effect of “Oh shit” and I know then I will need medical attention. A section of my black beanie is growing wetter and richer in color by the second and I can feel some fluid creeping down my face and into my own goggles.

It’s then that I weirdly ask, “Well…would one of you mind running me down to the ER?”

Silence.

After each buddy fumbling each of their half-assed excuses, it’s decided since Peter is parked “closest”, maybe ten cars closer than Gabe, that he will be the one to forgo the rest of the mornings bottomless turns and tend to the wounded, semi conscious individual. It is only fitting, that reaction, and as we make our way to the parking lot the only thing I can think of is maybe it's true what they say about friends on a powder day.