Chapter 2: Getting Out There
The weather that morning was typical for early April, clear and calm. The forecast was for mild temps and no wind, so I planned to dress light with just a t-shirt and a windbreaker. It would be about a three-hour traverse and hike from our mountain's summit to The Edge, a very long but mostly flat, skate-hike across a five mile crest of ridgeline with assorted stops for boot hiking. Most of it would be over snow but parts would be over rocky areas as we had heard from others. Only Rudy had a backpack that carried skis, but Sam and I said we wouldn't mind hauling ours on shoulder when necessary. We figured on loading the chair at 8am and skiing around eleven-thirty, depending on how fast it warmed up from the sun, hopefully turning the snow into a firm yet carve-able entity. Then we'd hike out the valley for an hour or so to the nearest road, where Sam left his Jeep waiting. The plan was for a nice and simple day trip, really not that extreme at all.
Jovial voices signaled enthusiasm from a distance as I was about to enter the locker-room. Rudy was psyched; his smile beamed through adrenaline-filled chatter that emanated well beyond the lockers.
“Oranges, chicken salad sandwich fixings,” Rudy said as he showed us the contents of his supplies. He held up a small green bottle. “A little Jager to calm Josh's nerves. Should we partake in some now?”
“It's not even eight o'clock,” I said.
“So?” Rudy opened the Jagermeister, the licorice tasting 70-proof liquor that allegedly had traces of opium due to the added ingredient of poppy seeds. He took a swig and handed the bottle to me expectantly. “It's got to be noon somewhere, Josh.”
“Alright.” I shook my head and took a weak sip, which resulted in facial protests from both Sam and Rudy. I took another deeper chug.
“That's the spirit,” Sam said. Then he drank and gave the bottle to Rudy who proudly put it back in his sack of goodies.
“I brought some trail-mix,” Sam said. “Sun-block, lip stuff if anyone needs any.”
I opened my backpack to display additions to the trek. “Mars bars and four cans of ice-cold Budweiser for the victory toast at the end of the run.”
“Four? Nice,” Rudy said.
“Has anyone heard from Tess?” Sam asked.
We looked blankly at each other, not wanting to voice our real concern that she wouldn't show.
“She'll make it,” Sam added.
“She'll probably show at 8:15,” Rudy said, “fashionably late.”
We collected our things and walked out toward the base of the ski area. The sun was just climbing above the ridgeline, already starting to shine on the frozen snow and warm things up. I checked the wind speed by looking at the uppermost ridge tops, barely seeing a trace of snow spirals in vortex below the largest cornices. Minimal wind and sunshine—a perfect day for spring skiing.
We put on backpacks and stepped into ski bindings to take our place in line at the Summit Express chair at 8am as planned. Now that it was well into spring, the resort opened an hour earlier than normal and closed at 1pm. We watched the first skiers and boarders glide forward and load the chairlift while scanning around for any sign of Tess. The minutes ticked away as riders approached the chair, assembled their gear and loaded. Some knew us and said hi. 8:15 went by and then 8:20 passed as our hopes diminished.
“Typical female. Builds you up then doesn't show,” I said, finally breaking the silence.
Sam and Rudy exhaled breaths in disappointment. I began to shuffle my skis, moving slowly toward the chairlift. Sam and Rudy followed while Rudy kept glancing back over his shoulder. The riders in front of us loaded their chair as we started moving forward.
“There she is!” Rudy said.
I figured he was joking. I turned around and was stunned to see Tess approaching from fifty yards away, already in her skis and skating powerfully toward us. She waved from a distance, wearing a backpack and a huge smile. My heart raced with adrenaline.
“Thanks for waiting,” she said upon arriving.
“We were just about to leave your ass,” Rudy said.
“Sorry. Complicated morning but I'm here now. You guys ready?”
Everyone nodded and we shuffled forward to take seats on the chairlift.
High fives flew among the group as we sat on the Summit Express chair heading to the top of the mountain where the long traverse would begin. As we rose in the moving chair above familiar terrain, I felt my backpack pushing me uncomfortably forward in the seat. Not wanting to fall off the chairlift, I asked the others to watch out for the safety bar coming down.
“I told ski patrol we'd be hiking there,” Sam told us. He was our supervisor, after all, and knew enough to inform the right people should anything happen.
“Smart,” I said. “Very smart.” I never would have thought of that. I was already in a daze trying to see myself skiing down The Edge. Will I fall? Might I get hurt? Can I impress Tess? How will I keep my confidence up?
“I also told Julie,” Sam said. Of the guys in our group, he was the only one with a girlfriend.
“Perfect,” Rudy mentioned. “We should have a rescue party there by nightfall if Josh breaks his legs.”
Tess laughed and nudged me with her elbow. I didn't even hear the joke, completely lost in thought. I stared in a daze at my ski tips dangling from the chair. Rossignol, do it for me today. I clicked the tips together, causing the small buildup of slush to slide off and fall below. How steep could it really be? I felt the first waves of anticipation, the adrenaline and, most importantly, the fear.
Sam broke my silence. “Here, eat some of these,” he said.
I looked over at the little sandwich baggie he held, carefully protecting it from the breeze on the high speed chair. He opened it, and to my surprise there was a fair amount of psychedelic mushrooms. I hadn't seen any for a couple of years since college. The thought of shrooming my way down The Edge must have put a mixed reaction on my face.
Rudy noticed the bag too. “Oh boy, shrooms!” Without hesitation he grabbed a small handful and began munching on them. As he chewed, I saw black and gray pieces stuck between his teeth and attached to his lips. “Never quite get used to the taste, do you?”
Rudy smiled at me, his teeth speckled with mushroom bits that I assumed would be there for hours.
“Tess, what do you think?” Sam asked.
“Sure, I'll do some,” she said, reaching into the baggie and selecting a smaller amount than Rudy had. She popped them in and chewed quickly, then swallowed fast. Rudy laughed at her method.
Sam put the baggie in front of me and politely said, “You don't have to if you don't want to, Josh.”
“No, no. Shrooms. Sounds great,” I managed. Rudy and Tess looked at me expectantly. “It's just a surprise. I can't believe we're going to shroom today. This is great. Thanks, Sam.”
“Yeah, thanks, Sam,” Rudy said as he continued to munch on his.
I hesitated while inspecting the little psychedelic caps and stems. I had taken mushrooms several times before and always hated the rancid taste. It had nearly made me vomit more than once. I tried LSD as well during that phase of my life. For a while I had sought to trip, to transcend reality, to go across the borders of sanity and experience something my normal brain was incapable of.
But I never went all the way. I never lost control. I never sat on a car hood holding a large rock insisting it would die if it touched the ground. I never talked to people who weren't there, or licked the living room furniture, or stared at my hand for hours on end. I never took the high doses that meant once you did it there's no going back, though I witnessed others doing those things, and it scared the shit out of me. On one occasion, I came pretty close to that level and fought with all my strength to keep my marbles. I respected the shrooms as a powerful drug, one that could keep you laughing all night or one that could place you in another zone altogether. I was afraid of them, but now that everyone else was eating shrooms, even Tess, I really had no choice.
I reached my hand int
o the baggie and grabbed some stems and a couple of caps. I pinched my nostrils shut with one hand and shoved them into my mouth with the other, chewing efficiently while making an effort to taste nothing.
“Interesting method,” Rudy observed. “Similar to Tess, but I can tell Josh is even more repulsed.”
“Hate the way these things taste,” I said with my mouth full of them.
“Yeah, but it's worth it,” Sam said as he munched a couple of caps.
I swallowed mine half-chewed and rinsed my mouth with water, desperate to rid myself of that horrible taste. My head shook. My whole body shook. I fought off the urge to vomit over the side of the chair. Tess and Rudy watched every reaction from me and began laughing wildly. And then the feeling passed.
Extreme Skiing and Psychedelic Mushrooms: The Art of Chasing Fear Page 2
