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It was cold. I could feel the light wind caress my face, searching out the zipper scar above a long-mended eye socket. ‘Special Advisor’ is what they call me now, but it is just window dressing, a hook they will use to sell the final film. The real star was standing off to the side, smiling as he chatted with his girlfriend. Slender, muscular, graceful; not one of those nervous, quick-of-movement types, but a smooth and easy fellow.
Both helicopters sat quietly on the small mountain meadow, deep in the heart of British Columbia, their blue metal skins glowing in the early morning light. The newly-fallen snow all around them sparkled with the millions of tiny rainbows that were trapped in the frozen crystals. One would be used as transport to the top of the mountain ridge while the other would be loaded with cameras and hover away from the face to catch his every move.
Everyone was waiting for the north-facing chute to be bathed with sunlight. Dark grey shadows hiding along the right edge of the 2,400 foot drop had yet to be chased back under the rocks from which they crawl every night.
The bottom of the run was alive with people crunching about in the new snow, tending to all sorts of high-tech recording equipment. The director seemed to be very calm, having planned this day out to the minute. Lenses were cleaned one last time; batteries being kept warm to retain their charge. This was not some lark. This was big business and was being treated as such. A lot of money is necessary to make a production like this happen.
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High on the side of the steep, techies were shoveling out the pre-designated little flat spots to set their tripods while others muled the equipment up into place. They would get only one shot at this run, and they wanted to be sure it was covered from every angle.
Hard to tell what was going through his mind.
I wanted to warn him about what I knew would be his eventual fate. The broken bones, the myriad of doctors hovering around, the months of recovery, and the aches that will be with him as he rolls out of bed in his old age. Should I try to tell him how it will be?
I used to be invincible. Nervous perhaps, but never in doubt about my own ability. The hike up the ridge...the adrenaline just pumping through the system...the wave at the top to tell them I was ready...the sudden quiet except for the little whine of the gentle Selkirk wind... the pounding of my heart. I knew the route, had laid out the run on paper, and then reviewed it over and over in my mind. |
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Jumping over the lip and into the chute...knew the cameras were rolling....catching every nuance of my movements. Under the rock outcropping, off the tiny lip with a little air, jamming to the right to avoid the dark rocks...hearing the grind on the left ski as it caught the edge of a hidden stone…trying to recover...launching airborne as I miss the planned cut...getting sideways...crashing downward toward the edge of the chute. ...waking up in the copter as they fly me to the hospital.
This young star has yet to catch that edge on the tip of a hidden boulder, fly out over a lip, not being able to recover and landing in the ledges, bouncing down a steep, out of control, at the mercy of the Mountain Gods.
I looked into his eyes and realized when I was his age I wouldn’t have listened to me. He already knows in the recesses of his mind the possibilities. He has seen the films of my crash in this very chute...but he is absolutely convinced it won’t happen to him. He believes he is too good. He is sure he is about to join a very small fraternity that could make this drop. It is his time. It is his destiny being played out. All I could do was check his equipment one last time, pat him on the back and say “Good Luck!”
I watched from below when he tipped in and envied the sureness of his thoughts. He will be joining the rest of us soon, but I pray not today. |
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