We got off the ski lift right before the high winds forced Kirkwood to shut it down. That left us at the top of Caples Crest with a handful of other snowboarders and skiers, all huddled to the ground to shield our faces from the stinging squall.

The winds had begun as Leslie and I approached the top. Our chair had swung precariously in the frozen gales. It would have been fun, like a playground swing, had it not been for the ten foot drop and piercing cold. Unless you grew up on an Alaskan playground, I suppose.

As we crouched on the ground, I looked down the slope. All I could see was a sea of white. Visibility was near zero. There were some dark splotches which I assumed were trees.

"Is it safe to go down?" a nervous snowboarder asked. Fortunately, at the top of Caples Crest was a Ski Patrol station.

One of the patrols answered: "Sure, if you're very careful and know what you're doing. You can also hang out here and wait for the winds die down. If it gets worse, we'll start taking people down."

A few daring souls took off down the slope. I silently watched the white swallow their bodies.

Several minutes passed with no mercy from the storm. Leslie turned to me. "Want to go down?"

I shrugged. "Sure, what do we have to lose? Just our lives, right?"

With that, we go on our snowboards and slowly slid downhill. I quickly realized that to say "visibility was near zero" was like saying "the sun is kinda hot." There was literally a wall of white in front of us.

In other words, the storm was tighter than a virgin's ass, and we squeezed through it like a cucumber without KY. Got the image down? Good.

We carefully glided through the soft snow. I've never boarded in snow as powdery as this before. I imagined this might be something like how surfing on water feels like.

The first twenty feet or so were smooth going and really damn fun. Then the winds picked up and I tumbled head-first down the mountain. With the soft snow all around me, I felt like I was falling into a bed of really cold cotton.

There was a slow-moving dark blur next to me, which I assumed was Leslie. I tried to push myself to my feet, but instead buried my arms into the snow. The harder I pushed, the deeper my arms sank. I had to pack the snow down to finally get back up.

Slowly, we made our way down Whiskey Slide. Except for a few boarders and skiers that flew past us, the slope seemed mostly deserted. The storm continued and the powder got deeper and softer, making each fall a real chore from which to recover.

Finally, we saw a sign. "A black diamond," I shouted. Leslie nodded. "What do you want to do?"

We're both relatively new to snowboarding and mostly stay on greens and blues. Although my first snowboarding trip was years ago, I go on an average of only once a year. A black diamond in a blizzard would be, well, what's that s-word that means something like death? Oh yea: suicide.

There was a path next to us that was a blue. We tried to make our way there, but only slid further down the black. So we dismounted our boards and began walking.

The powder was high now. Each step consumed our boots. Walking through it was excruciating. I think I uttered just about every piece of profanity I could think of while making that arduous trek.

We came across a skier and several other boarders. The winds suddenly picked up and we all crouched again. I imagined us becoming frozen snowmen on the slope. One day, kids will visit us and put coals and carrots on our faces.

"Hello?" yelled the skier. "Do you know where we are?"

I marched over. "Not really. I haven't been able to see a damn thing."

"I haven't seen any signs either," added a snowboarder.

We all surveyed the mountain around us. The snow was still coming down hard. Part of me wanted to stay here until the storm passed. Another part of me thought back to the frozen snowmen on the slope and wanted desperately to get off the mountain.

"Maybe we're right above Low Whiskey and High Whiskey," I offered.

"I don't think we are anymore. Look." The skier pointed down the slope. "It's all closed off over there. We can't get down that way."

"What's down there?" asked a snowboarder. He pointed towards the right, where Leslie and I came from.

"It's a black diamond. It's open if you want to take that route."

The skier and boarders exchanged glances and shook their heads. I guess they were new at this too.

"Oh, wait, I have a map!" chirped the skier. She pulled out her map and we all clustered around her.

"Ah, I think that closed off area could be this area here with the dashed red lines," I pointed at the map. "So that means if we go left, we'll be right at Hay Flat."

"Ah! Great!" cheered the skier. "Thanks!" And with that, she skied over to the left. Leslie and I walked a little bit more before trying to get on our boards again. The other boarders hopped on their boards right away and glided past us.

The snow was up to our knees now. In some areas, it even came up to our thighs. We weren't able to get back on our boards again. Each time we tried, we sunk deeper into the snow. So we opted to continue walking.

Did I tell you that walking through knee-deep snow sucks? Well, it does.

After twenty minutes of an agonizing hike, I decided to try getting on my board again. Leslie continued by foot while I wrestled with my board. But it was no use. At the rate I was sinking into the snow each time I tried to get up, I was bound to end up in Australia soon. So I started walking again.

I made it to several rolling hills below me. Since the snow was still too soft for me to get onto my board, I hatched a brilliant idea: I put my board on the ground, sat down on it, and pushed myself forward.

In effect, I rode my board like a sled down the rolling hills. If you've never tried this before, you've got to try it at least once. It's hella fun!

Steering can be an issue though. Several times, I had to kick my feet down to stop myself from crashing into a tree. But other than the potential tree-splattering danger, it was fun!

Finally the storm started to ease up. I could see more hills in front of me and the Snowkirk ski lift beyond them. Energized, I continued sliding.

The last hill before the ski lift seemed really steep. Really steep. Suddenly, I found myself blazing down the hill. I sensed the incline drop sharply and I saw a cliff in front of me. First, there was hill, then there was air.

I leapt off the board and kicked my feet deep into the snow. My board slipped beneath me and disappeared into the void.

Time stood still for a moment. I contemplated what had just happened to me. I had no idea how tall the cliff was, nor what was below it. I wondered what would have happened if I continued to ride my board down.

Cautiously, I climbed towards the edge. The hill made a steep drop of about fifteen feet. Below that was a hole in the snow; in the hole were some rocks and flowing water. And in the water was my board.

"Mike! Mike!"

I saw Leslie standing in a distance near the ski lift. I waved back and looked down. The side of the cliff wasn't total vertical. I took in a deep breath and started climbing down. Fortunately, I made it down without incident.

The hole where my snowboard fell was about eight feet deep. It looked like there was a stream under the snow and ice here. I walked around the hole to try to figure out a way to climb down. The snow around it didn't seem stable and I decided to abandon the board.

I marched through more knee-deep snow towards the ski lift, cursing along the way. A Kirkwood lift operator was with her and he called the Ski Patrol. After they retrieved my board, Leslie and I continued down the rest of Hay Flat and Snowkirk. By this time, the storm had mostly subsided.

My legs were on fire from the walking and my wrists were stiff from the falls. As we glided back to the lodge, I almost cried for joy. If there weren't people everywhere, I would have kissed the lodge itself. Maybe even given it some tongue.

After all of this, Leslie and I treated ourselves to some snacks and hot chocolate. As we kicked up our feet in the warm, safe lodge, I looked out the window.

"Want to go back out there?" I asked.

"Sure!"

And we went back for more.

. . .

Have you ever been caught in a blizzard?