In the end all that remained of our ordeal on the mountain were miles of ski, snowshoe, snowmobile and cat tracks under several inches of windblown snow. Tonight I lie snug in my bed, warm and wondering how to explain how an event like this can feel so profound yet be so simple. Though it must be profound if I wake up at 3:00am to write this story. I search for the take home message, what to say that puts meaning in all of this.

What I remember most is lying in a cramped, wet, cold snow cave. There are 4 of us in there, and one injured, stoically stuck on the edge of the hole in too much pain to be moved. We have protected her as best we could from the elements, taken care of her most basic needs - food, water, ‘shelter’ (if a sleeping bag against 30-40 mile/hr winds can be called ‘shelter’). We lay feet first in our little cave, packed like sardines against the elements and begin the agony of waiting. Action is so much easier than waiting. Looking back now it is amazing to remember what went through my mind then. Was it about my 3 children, my friends, the meaning of life, or a higher power? No, life seemed boiled down to each falling snowflake and the functioning of my body. Time has no place here. It went by fast, maybe slow, it just finally went. So I lie there, under my wet Goretex hood, vaguely thankful that I have on all the clothes I brought, and a hat. I hear the wind, my breath, my friends’ sighs. Concentrate on the vague warmth permeating through all those wet clothes that the body next to me is generating. Noticing in amazement that my body is shivering uncontrollably. Realizing how astonishing it is that my body will create its own heat by burning that chunk of salami I ate in such a hurry before I left the warmth of our cabin. So I shiver and look out from beneath the tiny crack in my hood at the snow flakes as they gather slowly at first and then more quickly. As the crack of light, flooded by my weak headlamp that my cold fingers can’t turn off, fills with more snow, and I am left with two small crystal windows on the moments of my life. The headlamp has made my windows bright and shiny. The snow flakes sting, one at a time, as they fall on the sliver of skin exposed to the elements. I shiver some more. This is the moment I take away from our ‘adventure’ and yet there is so much more.

Action is so much easier than waiting. What started out as a day of ‘training’, with my ‘gym’ a beautiful mountain covered in glistening snow turned out to be a lesson in human strength, courage, teamwork, generosity, and spirit. So we snowshoed and visited with friends in our cozy Sierra Club hut until late in the afternoon when a pair of friends, that had gone out for a quick back country ski, called saying that one of them had fallen near the top of a windy ridge, was badly injured and could we come and get them off the mountain. I need to say now that hindsight is a totally unfair comparison. So many ‘could have beens’, ‘what ifs’, and ‘should haves’. Suffice it to say that I have learned through these events that time ‘lost’ sitting down and going over the possibilities and making multiple contingency plans is time well spent. We made many decisions and took many actions that ‘could have been’ different. When the walkie-talkie squawked its message I was dozing in my sleeping bag. We took action. There were 7 ‘hut dwellers’ and 2 high up on the mountain. A storm was coming in, high winds, low clouds and about one hour of daylight left. Our friends were needles in a haystack. We could talk to them on the radio but couldn’t find them. The first time we went out we stomped around the mountain with an intense sense of desperation and were unsuccessful. So down we trudged and made a new plan. Everyone found their respective ‘jobs’ and fell into the rhythm of making decisions to better the chances of the women stuck on the mountain. Some of us hiked, later they told us that they ran, down the mountain for the Tahoe Nordic Search and Rescue team. They were witnesses to the nearly military ‘attack’ on the mountain made by waves of search and rescue volunteers as they set out to find the 5 of us up the dark and storm blown mountain. Some of us found their best role was to stay in the cabin, make food, melt snow, heat water, comfort the dog, keep the wood-burning stove stoked, and wait. I think this was the hardest job. They had no radios or contact with the search and rescue (SAR) team, only the sound of the snowmobiles, the flash of the flares, and the blare of the air horn. Where are they?

The rest of us, with a steady resolve and a last minute fuel load in our bellies, had hiked up the stormy ridge in the dark with packs filled with what we hoped were the elements of survival. We were looking for ski tracks that might lead us to our friends. Unbelievably we found the tracks, the snow had not yet covered them, and with a quickening of our pace and hearts we glimpsed a sparkling headlamp light through the trees. We found them within an hour of leaving the cabin. Now it was dark and the storm was beginning to rage around us. We were exposed, our friend in too much pain to move. These two women were brave. We found one digging a snow cave and the other, fractured femur and all, clinging to their companionship and hope. Neither ever complained. Both endured. In moments when I wanted to run down off the mountain and leave them there with our gear they held fast. No panic, just determination. So we stayed and hunkered down for the rescue. SAR contacted us on our walkie-talkie, 20 minutes away they say. 20 minutes turned to hours. "Where are you? Can you see our lights? See our flares?" (The light diffused into a red glow in the white out conditions) "Hear our horns? Where are you?" Flickers of light, our friend reports to those of us still in the snow cave. So we crawl out and peer into the snow flurry. Yes there are lights! In that moment when you realize that there are people out there who will pull you away from your worst fears you feel grateful, joyous, camaraderie, and love. I could only see their headlamps winding through the trees. Vaguely amazed that these people could ‘ski’ up this steep slope at such speeds. I loved them then, and I could barely see them, let alone know them, as I squinted through my frozen eyelashes. Anyone who would battle though a snowstorm looking for a few stranded souls had to be lovable.

SAR teams apparently don’t mince their words or actions. They may have said ‘hey’ as they approach our relieved group, but swiftly they made a cooperative effort to get us all off the mountain. A platform was shoveled out, a litter constructed, medical assessments made, positions were taken and we moved down the mountain. One in a litter, four under our own power, down the stormy mountain. Yes were found, at midnight. Our descent was an event, we lost our way once (if you can call it that - with radios, GPS, air horns and the lights from crawling snowmobiles). On the ridge awaited two snow cats and two snowmobiles and an even greater number of SAR volunteers on skis to help us. We were escorted down to our cozy hut by graceful skiers and the bright headlights of a snowmobile. We found out too that two of the SAR team had gotten lost out in the storm. From our hut we continued to watch the snowmobile lights as they searched the dark for the rest of their team.

We were so glad to open the door to our warm hut. Warmth is such a comfort after being cold. Hot tea, relieved friends, we all were OK. It is 2:30 in the morning.

I woke up to a snowy wonderland. We hiked out to our cars along the buried cat tracks of the night before. Was that all for real? Our friend went to surgery and we came back to our homes and families, but not unchanged. Life is too precious to waste. Simple pleasures are the best. There are people who are willing to risk their lives for a stranger in need. Kindness, courage, spirit can be found in the panes of a snow crystal window.