Consequently, now is the part where my whole scene gets twisted and I’m left with no other option but to retract into silence and let the events unfold as they will. In effect, I was sent to my room to think about my conduct, with “room” in this case being various backcountry peaks accessing numerous unridden lines.

Without warning I found myself atop lines that sang to the tune of unimaginable glory. With the most stable conditions of the year and days of blue ahead of us, I was suddenly a part of a dream scenario that the most creative mind couldn’t imagine – first descents…. one after the other.

This was Kingfisher’s first year in operation, or to be more accurate their first year of exploration, as their permit didn’t yet allow for them to take payment. Consequently, I stood atop ridgelines where no one had before, including the owners/guides Matt and Tim. It was unreal. I expressed my gratitude through my riding which tuned into a next level frequency I couldn’t shake the rest of the trip. I was in disbelief, yet I was taking full advantage. My conniving motives all but vanished in the majesty of my situation. I had no intention of letting any number of my personal handicaps surface, so instead of questioning the access I had been granted I kept my mouth shut. I was in denial, as the norm in many big mountain scenarios is to get shackled and relegated to riding relatively tame slopes as conditions rarely allow access to terrain of this magnitude.

I dedicated my first descent to my good buddy who had recently passed away. He was among the first to enlighten me to the beauty of exploiting your own intelligence as a means to extraordinary circumstance. His preferred method was piloting helicopters in Alaska and he was an inspiration to anyone who had the pleasure of meeting him. This snow-covered shoulder with a series of right-sided, steeper than shit, tree flanked chutes is now known as Cab’s Corner in honor of the legendary Christian Cabinilla.

My second first descent came via a rock/paper/scissors shootout with a couple guys in the crew.

As I lay my hand down flat on the third and deciding series of ro-sham-bos, my heart dropped as the verdict was clear. Paper beats rock. It was like winning the lottery but knowing that you had to spend it all in the next two minutes.

Clearly shaken by the win, and though afforded a few options as to my descent by our guide, I knew I had no choice but to squeeze into this chute I had an eye on as we approached the top of the mountain in the helicopter. This was a beast of a line by any measure, and I was very ready to do this despite its measure of enormity.

“Ok then,” I ask our guide Matt as I try and relax into my inner warrior, “Where do I stop and meet you guys?”

“At the bottom,” he bluntly replies.

“Bottom of what?” I retort.

“The bottom of the valley,” he says with a serious grin.

Before some technical wrangling through near vertical tree snagged spines, the first half of this route was a narrow chute guarded on one side by a massive rock wall and a fall line tree covered spine on the other. After that it opened up into an apron of glorious powder fields the size of a small ski area.

A couple of deep breaths later I’m in it, committed to an experience that just days before I could not have conceived. As one of the longest continuous runs of my life, a surreal feeling came over me as soon as I dropped in, transforming what should have been a gripping descent down the mountain into an incredibly silent and timeless encounter with the mountain, my snowboard and some otherworldly shit I am still trying to understand.

I can only hope future generations of riders will come to know the appropriately dubbed Paper Chute the way that I did.

Kingfisher is now open for business, and with many areas yet to be ridden they are accepting payment for life changing experiences. It is a true snowboarder’s operation with access granted based on knowledge, skill and experience, not dollar signs or egos.

On a personal note, I will be donating all future proceeds of my professional enterprise to Kingfisher Heli under the pretext of personal rehabilitation compensation. The thing is, and I really feel this to be true, is that I will most likely need to isolate myself in one of their cabins this winter. Provided with the odd first descent from time to time, I imagine some clear insight as to what I’ve been doing with my life will start to surface. This could be the ideal place to think about my behavior a bit more before I return to society. It would just be irresponsible to think otherwise…