Personal Experience of Accidents in Mountains

The soft snow hardened beneath my feet as I sauntered up the mountain. It was like heaven on a winter's day in the Alps, while on a skiing trip. All around me, the snow was falling on the lucid landscape. Time had stood still, and the only sign of movement was the gentle meandering snowflakes. It was as if nothing could spoil that idyllic setting. As I admired the radiant scenery, a sudden movement caught my eye. A colourful clash of blue and yellow against the blinding white snow expertly interlaced through an imaginary string of posts.

I watched, transfixed, until slowly, my senses heightened and my awe turned to horror as I realised that the skier was off piste and gathering momentum as his body fought to gain control of his situation. The spray from the snow surrounded him in a lace like fashion and made his speeding frame shimmer like a heat haze.

The distant rumble was hardly audible, yet I was suddenly aware of it gaining momentum and force and a frozen horror fixated my body to the spot as I looked past the skier and saw the tumbling snow of an avalanche.

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Filled with apprehension, I turned from the approaching hazard, hastily fastened my ski's on and leapt forward. My view of the past "heavenly scene" had drastically changed to an uttermost felling of terror as I raced down the slope. Reaching a small cave cut into the side of a rock, I tried my luck and bravely swerved towards it and lurched.

Headfirst, I plummeted like a rock into the midst of the small cave and landed onto a solid rock surface and passed out.

Some time later, I awoke, finding the entrance blocked with fresh snow. A little light shone in from above. The unwelcoming sound of the alarming rolling of snow had ended, replaced now with the whirring of helicopter blades. Abruptly, I clambered up the rock face and up to the surface with a new feeling of hope and waved to it.

I was one of the lucky ones.