A little over a year ago my brother and I were skiing at the resort closest to our university. It was early December and the resort had just opened for the season. We had just bought season passes and were thrilled to be able to ski consistently for the first time in our lives.
The resort was small, but we didn’t know it well, so we spent the day exploring and savoring each turn down the mountainside. Snow started to fall early on and as the day progressed it started to build up so much that each time we went down the mountain there was more and more powder.
Soon, my brother and I started to catch powder fever. Each run we started going further and further from the beaten path, searching for the spots of fresh powder. We found that one side of the mountain seemed to be less tracked out than the rest, so we kept going down there, each time going a little further from the main part of the mountain.
We thought we were geniuses and had found a proverbial gold mine of untouched, fluffy snow. We were wrong. In our excitement of the moment and arrogance that we had outsmarted everyone else on the mountain, we soon found out why no one else had gone where we were.
As it turned out, we had reached the point of no return, we no longer were able to cut back over to the main part of the mountain to get back on the lift. We had no choice but to keep going down towards the unknown.
I tried my best to enjoy the powdery turns, but with each one the reality of our predicament grew, and I soon had to face the realization that we were going to be lost, late in the day, with no idea where we were.
Finally, we saw that the main highway was where we were headed, which was a relief. Now we at least knew that we could get back to the resort, even if that meant a 2 mile walk in ski boots.
The mountain started to level out with a little distance between us and the road, so we had to lurch ourselves forward through bushes and groves of aspen trees. After what seemed to be an eternity of snowshoeing with skis instead of snowshoes there was only a couple hundred feet between us and the road.
The only obstacles we had left to overcome were the small creek before we could reach the road and the long trek back to the car.
As we came to the edge of the creek we decided to throw our skis and ski poles across and then try and jump over the water. The jump, most likely because of our cumbersome ski boots, proved more difficult that we thought and by the end of it both of our feet were soaked.
Soon we were hiking down the road towards the ski resort. As cars passed we saw that some people were laughing at us, and we soon understood why.
After about 10 minutes of walking a car stopped and asked if we needed a lift. As we got into the car the driver told us that he knew exactly what had happened to us, and proceeded to describe the exact circumstances which we had found ourselves in. He knew that we had gotten too far over on the mountain and weren’t able to get back to the lift, he knew many people whom had done the exact same thing.
As the sky darkened we were dropped off at our car and the ordeal was over. As it turned out, we weren’t as smart as we thought and there was a reason why no one had gone where we went.
Sometimes the path less traveled leads to amazing places and sometimes there is reason the path is less traveled.