Surviving Avalanches, Pioneering Backcountry Skiing, and Turning Alaska Heli Skiing Dreams into Realities - an Interview With Theo Meiners

Theo Meiners "cradling" a helicopter. (A. Meiners)

“People are drawn to (skiing) not just because of the speed, powder and jumping off rocks with soft landings. It’s more the piece of mind. I’ve participated in a lot of…sports over the years, but nothing quite does it time and time again like skiing.”

Theo Meiners and I don’t have much in common. He’s a living legend. His list of accolades, if laid out like fresh tracks in the Chugach Mountains, would stretch for hours and miles beyond the reach of the Alaska Rendezvous Guides helicopter. He’s been a ski instructor longer than I’ve been alive, has worked as an examiner for the PSIA for nearly as long, and was part of the Jackson Hole Air Force long before backcountry skiing became “mainstream.” He mapped out many of the first lines in Jackson Hole. He’s also survived not one, but four avalanches, and knows more about snow science than I thought possible.

Me, I’m just a girl who likes to play outside. But Theo and I do have one thing in common – we love the peace of mind our sports give us, and we love finding ways to open the possibility of those experiences to others. We caught up on the phone just before he left for Valdez to prep his heli skiing business for opening . For those of us on the East Coast, the ski season is almost over. But for Theo and the Alaska Rendezvous Lodge, the fun is just beginning!

Turning Dreams into Realities

“I knew it was going to be a big project and a lifestyle change because before, I'd just worked for other people and now I was taking on this financial risk. But that's what you are – you're a risk taker if you're a guide, a manager, so taking on the financial risk was just part of the evolution.”

Theo became well acquainted with helicopters after spending four years as a wild land firefighter. After pilgrimages to Valdez to work with the World Extreme Skiing Contest as an avalanche technician and judge, he took a job as a guide with the legendary Doug Coombs and worked his way up the ranks. “Doug and I had been friends for a long time before his meteoric rise to fame in skiing; the guy was a phenom. I learned quite a bit from him even though he was younger than I am. It was great watching him gain his confidence and footing on a global stage."

With a desire to make serious backcountry skiing available at a higher level, Theo took his lifetime of experiences and purchased 27 acres of land near Valdez. There, he built Alaska Rendezvous Guides. “We needed property, our own restaurant, our own hotel crew quarters, etc. It took us about four years to gain momentum and for the buildings to be completed. It’s been wonderful…we feel really blessed.”  Theo and his team have been fulfilling Alaska backcountry skiing dreams ever since.

When asked, “Why Alaska?” Theo launched into a discussion of weather systems, geography and meteorological phenomena, all of which make the Valdez area one of the snowiest places on Earth.  In describing how the ARG team chooses where to take clients, he drew me a mental picture of a constellation of stars. “Imagine…each star being a big mountain peak. The peaks are in groupings, and depending on the level of the group, we know where to go. Of course, we’re always looking for the best snow, and we’ll travel long distances to find it.” His incredible passion for skiing and snow science is obvious.

Theo dropping in... see if you can spot him near the top! (A Meiners)

Buried Alive…Almost

“People have three instinctive reactions to catastrophe and chaos – they fight, they flee or they freeze. That's basic human behavior when you see something biblical. My reaction was to fight and to survive.”

Theo has survived not one, but four avalanches. The worst, a Class 4, engulfed him in an area called Clueland in Alaska eleven years ago. Wet autumn snow bends vast forests of 25-30 foot tall aspen, willow, and alder trees, top branches touching the Earth. Packing a serious punch, winter storms bring up to 1200" of snow. Trees are buried and we’re left looking at a huge alpine face instead of a vast forest. On top of that face in that particular valley, surface hoar had developed at lower elevations. It’s an incredibly weak layer and difficult to detect, which can make lower elevations more avalanche prone. Theo hit a weak spot and the entire slope gave way. The avalanche propagated ¾ miles and was so deep that the tall trees, relieved of their burden, all stood up. The helicopter waiting to pick him up below was completely buried in spindrift.

“I was knocked over and resurfaced by using a technique called ‘brace and spin’” he says. (He’s pioneered avalanche survival techniques and makes information available for free on ARG’s website.) “I was able to slingshot myself out into some open areas between sliding snow. I was moving to the flank when I was hit by another wave. I did the same move again, this time coming up with only one ski on…I skied into the trees thinking I was going to impale myself and ended up six or eight feet up in the branches as the slide kept moving below me.”

Theo was lucky. He wasn’t injured in the first few moments of capture, which was crucial. But he also credits his situational awareness and survival instincts. His expertise in snow science helped save his life. He described the different avalanche zones, the destructive forces of each, and how knowing where you are in the avalanche can be the difference between life and death. He knew where he was, how to handle it, and fought for his life.

What surprised me the most about Theo's account of these experienced was the lack of fear and emotion he expressed. After the Clueland avalanche, it took him eight years to visit the spot again. That's the only indication I got that the experiences had any emotional effect on him. What was most obvious, though, is the fact that he's an incredibly intelligent and calculating sort of man with survival instincts some of us can only hope we have when the time comes.

Theo (far left) and part of the ARG crew. (A. Meiners)

Never Stop Learning

“At Alaska Rendezvous, our credo is: ‘We are all students of our environment, and we will never stop learning and never stop training.’"

Though a legend in his own right, Theo credits a number mentors with helping him develop direction and understanding. He'll always be a student, and always looks to learn more. His list of mentors include Karl Birkeland, avalanche scientist, Bruce Jamieson, avalanche researcher, Dave McClung, co-author of The Avalanche Handbook and Rod Newcomb, founder of the American Avalanche Institute. Ski mentors and training partners include Jackson Hole skiing legend and Olympic medalist Pepi Stiegler along with Fritz Stamberg among many others.

Theo’s advice to anyone seeking advancement in backcountry sports is to have a mentor. “Guiding and mountaineering is still kind of in the old school way of learning. It’s an apprenticeship in a lot of regards. No matter what you get from a class or course, until you really start to put it to use with someone with better skills, you don’t really learn. That’s why having a mentor is important.” 

And of course, Theo is a mentor himself. The ARG crew is poised to lead the future of heli skiing in Alaska, and he couldn’t be more excited. “There’s so much energy. It’s their future. If they can manage the learning curve, stay safe and not get injured, they’ve got bright futures as heli guides.” The future looks bright for Theo and the Alaska Rendezvous Lodge as well. “It’s a great environment. Lots of hot water, great food and kindred spirits. It’s people seeking adventure and getting to become friends. You know, when you risk with a group of people, you develop a bond. I don’t say that lightly. People become very close. The experiences you have, you learn a lesson each time. You learn something about yourself, your partners, and your environment.”

Theo and the ARG crew continue to learn their environment and to make safety the number one priority. It was obvious after the first five minutes of our conversation that returning from any adventure in one piece is paramount to Theo. His weapons against anything thrown at him are knowledge and experience. “It's really important that everyone takes their time and doesn't rush their adventures. What we say at the Rendezvous is that the really objective is to come home. Whether you're climbing Denali or Everest, going heli skiing, or going out to Red Rocks for climbing, plan your trip to come home. The peak or the summit is only halfway. It's that last run in the fading light, the alpenglow, it's sharing memories. Make lots of memories, but come home.”

So, if you're ready for it, Theo and his crew open the Alaska Rendezvous Lodge opened at the end of February. Give him a call and let him show you the experience of a lifetime. Or just travel to Valdez and revel in the fact that you're in the company of a legend.

Four Ways to Have Awesome Winter Weekend in the Adirondacks

The Adirondack mountains hold a special place in my heart. Aside from being beautiful and close, I've had many a great adventure there. Until the past year or two, most of my adventures in the High Peaks region had been in warm weather. But there's so much to do in the winter, and so much fun to be had! After a trip up to Keene Valley and Lake Placid this past weekend, I decided I had to do the region's cold weather possibilities justice on the blog! Here are my four favorite ways to guarantee an awesome winter weekend in the High Peaks.

Climb Some Ice!

George showing us how it's done with one tool*

This past weekend, friend and ice leader extraordinaire George took me and a group of friends out to Chapel Pond Canyon in Keene Valley. Our first stop was the Mountaineer to rent gear, including an older version of the Camp Cassin C Comp mono point crampons for me and ice tools for George - the Grivel Quantum Tech and Matrix Tech. (For the record, the tools and crampons were amazing, though I'm not convinced I'm experienced enough to pass judgment on mono vs. dual point crampons!) We parked at Chapel Pond and started the approach, which took us around the edge of the pond through knee deep snow and into the sparsely forested canyon. Our destination was Positive Reinforcement, a beautiful NEI 3+/4- flow that can, as we discovered, accommodate three parties and four ropes.

George led right up the center of the formation and set up two top ropes for us to work on throughout the day. The first climb, set up on the far right side of the flow, was the easier of the two with plenty of stemming and resting opportunities. The second, set right in the middle, took us over a more sustained vertical section. I had to feebly yell "take!" to my belayer near the top of the second climb as the predictable pump and panic set in. Some day, I'll be able to climb 90' of ice without panicking! Two other pairs of climbers came in and set up in between us. Watching one party forgo ATCs for hip belays and Munter hitch knots made for some interesting conversations.

*a note on the photo - I bet George a beer that he couldn't climb the whole pitch with one tool. I upped the ante to a six pack if he could do it without falling. He fell once. Only one beer for George!

Ski Some...Ice?

A cloudy, but beautiful day at Whiteface.

While in the vicinity of Lake Placid, it seemed silly not to visit Whiteface Mountain. With a 3,000 foot vertical and 86 trails, it's one of the best skiing destinations on the east coast. Not to mention, of course, the fact that it's dubbed the Olympic Mountain after being home to the 1980 Winter Olympic Games. Whiteface is a beautiful mountain with terrain appropriate for all levels of skiers and boarders. My favorite runs are the long, meandering Wilmington Trail and the short blue square Silver Glades. Every resort should have a blue square glade run, in my humble opinion. I love zipping through the trees, but only when I'm sure I won't crash into one!

This was my second trip to the mountain, the first being in March of last year. Conditions were less than ideal; it was a busy day and most of the runs were incredibly icy. From what I've heard, this is pretty typical of the mountain and of course, typical of east coast skiing. The runs we did were pretty well skied off and all the snow had been packed into giant randomly placed bumps. My advice: get there early on busy days or visit on a weekday if you can. But the views were just as I remember - beautiful! 

Climb a Mountain

Aleya approaching the summit of Algonquin.

The Adirondack High Peaks region is a perfect place to learn and practice winter hiking and mountaineering. Last year, Aleya and I summited Algonquin (5,114') during a three day mountaineering course with the Eastern Mountain Sports Climbing School. The hike took our group of four 6-7 hours to complete and we summitted in howling winds and sub zero temperatures. After climbing a few High Peaks in the summer, it was amazing to see what the tops of the mountains look like in winter!

While our group was out ice climbing, Cornell swimming friend Jayme was out tackling Mount Colden (4,714'). Jayme and husband CJ are well on their way to becoming 46ers - an elite group of adventurers who've climbed the 46 highest peaks in the Adirondacks. Armed with snowshoes, Jayme and her group set off from the Adirondack Loj and hiked 11.2 miles round trip to the summit and back. Jayme reports, "It was a really nice day; just the right temperature.  Not so warm that we overheated in our layers, but not so cold that we felt we had to tag the summit and make a madcap dash back down for cover from the wind in the trees. Views from the summit were minimal, but the hike up the mountain was very pretty, with so much undisturbed snow.  I would love to find a sunny winter day to go back up.  It would be stunning." Jayme and CJ chronicle their ADK 46er adventures at Paperchasers Gone Wild.

Be a Tourist in an Olympic City

Lake Placid Brewery. Yum.

Lake Placid played host to the Olympic Winter Games twice, once in 1932 and again in 1980. If you're not up for climbing mountains, skiing, or climbing ice, some of the Olympic facilities and activities in town are perfect alternatives. Visit the Bobsled and Luge Complex for a short but thrilling ride down the bobsled track. Take a tour of the Olympic Jumping Complex, including a glass enclosed elevator ride to the observation deck at the top of the K-120 jump. (The "K" refers to the distance ski jumpers aim to reach to receive the maximum number of points for distance.) Drive out of town to the High Peaks Information Center to learn more about the region. And of course, be sure to visit the Lake Placid Pub and Brewery for their famous Ubu Ale.

If you've been to the High Peaks in the winter, what are some of your favorite activities? Have you participated in any mentioned above?

Fluffy Stuff and Face Plants - A Week of Skiing in Revelstoke, BC

Skeptical of Dan's giant powder skis. (D. Herscovitch)

It’s not easy being average. If you’re a beginner, you’ve got so much learning to look forward to, so many new things to try. If you’re a pro, you boldly attack the most difficult option in front of you knowing full well it’s not out of your league. If you’re average, you’re stuck. You’ve got more to learn, but are just within reach of taking on the stuff the pros do. You're above the beginner options, but not quite ready for the expert stuff. You’re just not there yet.

Though applicable to other situations, in this case I’m specifically referring to skiing. I donned skis for the first time four years ago in Alaska. Until our trip to Revelstoke, I'd never taken a formal lesson. The only comparable terrain I'd seen was at Alyeska, and I've been mostly on small hills in PA since. My first real ski trip was an eye-opening, sore-leg-creating wonder of an experience!

Revelstoke - Heard of It?

Until trip planning started, I hadn't. The town of Revelstoke, nestled in the Columbia Mountains of British Columbia, was founded in the late 1800's when the Canadian Pacific Railroad was built through it. It's a picture perfect little mountain town. Hardcore skiers from around the world have visited Revelstoke for years, and with good reason. The mountains are tall, steep, and breathtakingly beautiful, not to mention the 40-60 feet of annual snowfall.

Revelstoke Mountain Resort (RMR) is only four years old and thus one of the best-kept drop dead gorgeous ski resort secrets. With over 5,000 vertical feet to ski from top to bottom, RMR has the highest drop in North America. In addition to 54 runs, one of which is over nine miles long, short hikes take you to the North Bowl and Greely Bowl as well as the summit of Mount Mackenzie for some serious powder.

Lots of Snow, Lots of Avalanches

The beautiful terrain at RMR, avalanche-free!

After spending a beautiful night at the Hotel Eldorado in Kelowna, BC (best fish and chips ever!), Dan and I took off for Revelstoke. We spent the day playing car tourists, including a stop at Rogers Pass in Glacier National Park. Both Revelstoke and Glacier National Park are part of the larger Columbia Mountains, a stunning set of ranges covering over 52,000 square miles.

Before the trip, I watched two pretty cool avalanche control videos that illustrate both the power of the terrain and the incredible ability of area personnel to manage it. We’d heard of week long Trans-Canada Highway closures due to avalanches, and experienced it first hand when we attempted to leave Revelstoke to pick up friends in Kelowna. The highway was closed 20 miles outside of town for two hours for avalanche control, and we turned back.

That being said, of course all backcountry travel requires extensive knowledge of and experience with avalanche terrain. Without it, park rangers even recommend steering clear of what would normally be easy day hikes. I'm not ready for serious backcountry skiing yet, but regardless, due to our lack of avalanche terrain knowledge, any backcountry travel was out of the question. There's so much I wanted to see that we couldn't access because of our limited exposure to that type of terrain. Where I grew up and where I live, avalanches just aren’t an issue. But an avalanche course or two could open up a whole new world of opportunities, and those classes are at the top of my to-do list now!

It's Not Easy Being Average.

When the foot of snow fell on our first night in town, I woke up elated and ready to experience my first real powder day! Dan and I stuck mostly to blue runs that first day, though I did manage a serious face plant after getting my tips stuck in powder. The rest of our group, all experienced and talented skiers, arrived that night. As a result, all subsequent days involved harder, steeper runs and a lot more speed. Most of them would jump in and out of glades, fly down steep groomers, and talk about hiking up to the summit of Mount Mackenzie to make fresh tracks in knee deep powder. I did my best to hold my own, go as fast as I comfortably could, and even duck in and out of the occasional group of trees. But with a place like RMR at your disposal and a group of ballsy, experienced folks with you, it's not easy being a Type II skier.

In the Greely Bowl trying not to panic. (D. Herscovitch)

I spent a good bit of the week feeling intimidated by the terrain. Revelstoke is steep, plain and simple. And it snows a ton and a half there, which means a significant amount of powder. Though all North American ski areas have the same ratings for runs, the black runs out west aren’t comparable to black runs where I’ve been skiing. They were, as expected, much harder. Revelstoke doesn't use double black diamonds to signify the hardest of the hard runs, which means some black runs were more difficult than others. I did my first hike to a run ever in the North Bowl of the resort, and when we reached the end of the hike, the drop in to the bowl looked like a step off a cliff. But I did it, and it was amazing.

I fought feelings of guilt for being one of the last down each run, feelings of frustration because I wanted to keep up, but couldn't, and the occasional feeling of terror. But I also felt incredibly lucky to be with a couple of patient, talented skiers to watch and learn from. They'd give me pointers when I wasn't too frustrated to listen, encourage me when I made it down a run I didn't think I could, and they'd push me to try things I was too scared to do. I took my first lesson with friend Amanda the day before we left, and though I need at least ten more, I learned a few things that made me more confident. I even managed a long series of sweeping turns in knee deep powder without falling on the last day!

All in all, it was an amazing trip, and Revelstoke is a beyond amazing place. Who wants to go back with me?

Revelstoke, Here We Come! (In Two Months)

Alyeska, where I learned to ski in 2007.

Normally, Mondays are days I don't particularly look forward to. But this Monday was...awesome. I booked my flight to Kelowna, British Columbia for my first real ski trip "out west." For someone who's grown up on the East Coast and spent the last few winters skiing in Pennsylvania, I'm not entirely sure what skiing "out west" entails, but I know it's going to be awesome.

I started skiing back in 2007 when I lived in Alaska, though you can bet it took me at least a month into real winter to try it at all. "You want me to hurtle myself down a giant mountain toward the icy Turnagin Arm on pieces of wood attached to my feet? Seriously?!" But try I did, and I discovered that those years of figure skating lessons paid off. I realized my instant, although uncontrolled, ability to parallel ski. (I figure skated until age 10, at which point I decided I was not, in fact, graceful, and swimming was much more fun.)

That winter, I spent almost every weekend at the Alyeska Resort outside of Anchorage. After a month of skiing, my "instructor" finally let me use poles, and I finally figure out how not to trip over them. I still don't plant them properly, though.

So, after much deliberation, waffling, and general arguing both internally and out loud, I booked my flight to British Columbia to ski at Revelstoke. Life's full of trade-offs, and I knew there would only be one big trip this winter. But I'm psyched that this is it! We'll spend a few days wandering around the Kelowna area, hopefully discovering a handful of outdoor adventures to be had. Then our little group will head to Revelstoke for several days of jaw dropping views and feet of beautiful snow.

I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous. As far as skiing goes, I'm about average, and I'm going to British Columbia to ski with a few folks who are, to say the least, incredible skiers. Black runs here in Pennsylvania give me a run for my money, and I didn't make it down a single black run at Alyeska without biting it at least once. A few days at Whiteface Mountain outside Lake Placid, NY last winter left me a little more fearless. But after several hours of steep skiing, my legs are jello, and concentrating enough not to fall is quite challenging. I know powder is akin to gold for skiers and boarders, but I have absolutely no idea how to ski in it. The closest I've come to skiing powder was sloshing through inches of fluffy snow that had fallen one day at Alyeska. That was three years ago.

Nerves aside, I'm beyond excited. I can't wait for the Canadian Rockies to take my breath away. I'm guessing just sitting at a window staring outside would be enough to keep me occupied for the entire week. But, this blog is called "Adventure-Inspired" after all, and I'm so looking forward to taking on the challenge of skiing in a brand new place, and learning as much as I can.

All of you skiers out there, what advice do you have for someone who's about to go on their first real, honest-to-goodness ski trip? I've got two months to get myself ready!

My Favorite Skiing Drills

As I mentioned earlier, I learned to ski at the ripe old age of 23 in Alaska with my wonderful significant other as a teacher. Thank goodness Dan was a certified ski instructor at one point in time. Almost three years later, I'm definitely not a pro, but can generally make it down any level of groomed terrain without injury! *knocks on wood*

Dan used a number of drills to teach me technique at various points of what's been a short skiing career, and we still revisit them all at the beginning of the season. I'd like to share some of my favorites, hopefully to the benefit of other beginner and intermediate skiers. I've solicited Dan's help on putting these together - my first almost guest post!

Sideslips
What's the point? This drill teaches you how to control your edges and perfect your balance.
Doing it: I've heard this drill called a number of different things, (side slips, etc.), but I like to think of it as doing my part to keep the snow completely flat, packed, and looking perfectly undisturbed, hence the name I've given it. This drill won't work well on powder, but is perfect for groomed east coast slopes! Stand with your skis perpendicular to the slope, and slowly roll over on to your edge. See if you can hit the edge just perfectly to slide down the hill slowly, sideways, leaving a completely flat patch of white in your path.


Poles as a Tray
What's the point? You'll learn to keep your upper body quiet and initiate the turning motion with your lower body. Helpful for skiers who tend to swing their upper body to turn.
Doing it: Grip the ends (not the ends, but a bit wider than shoulder-width) of your poles with your palms facing upward, (facing downward is as effective), and hold them at shoulder height horizontally in front of you. The poles are your "tray." Execute S-turns while keeping the "tray" as level and undisturbed as possible. Ziggyskier.com advises skiers to pretend they're snooty servants providing afternoon tea - no spilling!

Poles as a Viewfinder
What's the point? By learning to keep your chest pointed at the base of the slope and making turns from your hips, you'll have a lot more control and be able to execute cleaner turns more quickly. It's the same principle as the Tray drill above. You basically want your upper body to float down the hill at about the same height from the ground while your legs and hips do all the work.
Doing it: Grip the middle of the poles, one in each hand, and extend your arms. The poles will create a "viewfinder," as if you're pointing a camera at a point to take a photo. Use a specific view of base of the hill as your photo point, and keep it in your viewfinder as you execute turns down the hill. If you move your viewfinder too much, the photo will be blurry, of course. Ziggyskier.com calls this the "Frame" pole exercise. The "picture" in your viewfinder should be an area at the bottom of the run that is on the fall line. I.e.: where you would end up if you just skied straight down (and I don't mean the hospital).

Single Foot Turn
What's the point? Getting your body to feel what it's like to make perfect turns on both edges with both legs. Edge control. You will be forced to make the turn only on the edge of your ski, because if you let it go flat on one foot, you will fall. Beginner skiers tend to keep their skis flat on the snow and slide through turns, which causes them to catch edges and fall quite often. Also helps skiers link their turns together more smoothly.

Doing it: Ski down the run on both skis and when you begin a turn, lift your inside ski (if you turn left, it is your left ski) off the ground and make the turn only on your outside ski. Once the turn is completed, immediately put your foot down, raise the other, and turn the other way. If you have too much trouble balancing, you can let just the tip of your lifted ski drag on the snow. For a much greater challenge, try lifting the outside ski on each turn instead.

UppaDowna (not to be confused with @UpaDowna!)

What's the point? It forces you to focus on initiating turns by putting pressure on the edges of your skis and shifting your weight.

Doing it: Easy... crouch down into a sitting on the toilet position as you ski along and then slowly stand up as you initiate your turn, so you are standing at the apex of the turn. As you begin to come out of the turn, sit back down. You should be constantly moving up or down, not remaining in the standing or sitting positions for more than a second or two.

Post your favorites in the comments section if I've left any out!

It Snowed! and Snowed and Snowed and...

Snow may very well be my favorite thing in the world. If not, it's certainly right up there with chocolate, kittens...you know, wonderful things. When the first snow of the year drifts out of the sky, I can't help but do a little happy dance. Sledding, snow angels and snow men aside, it's as if Mother Nature's found a way to cover even the most unsightly parts of the outside world in a perfect blanket of white. Everything is just so...pretty! That is, of course, until what a friend calls "The Brown" sets in. The Brown - what happens when cars charge through the perfect white powder, dump trucks throw salt all over the concrete, and everything turns from the whitest of white to slush.

All of that aside, I just love snow. I love how inconvenient it makes things, how much trouble it is, and how you can't do much but accept its presence and enjoy it! This weekend was what will undoubtedly be called the Blizzard of 2009 in Philadelphia and most of the northeast. According to the National Weather Service, Philly experienced the "second-biggest snowfall since record keeping began." Imagine the fun! That is, unless you're one of the thousands of people trying to get somewhere in the mess. I was flying back from Monterey, California Saturday morning, and as the storm peaked, I found myself delayed and rerouted all over the place, finally arriving home 25 hours late. I was more disappointed about not being able to see the snow fall and all the havoc it caused first hand than I was about losing my weekend somewhere in the depths of the Memphis and Charlotte airports.

But the process reminded me of a few important concepts I tend to forget.

My little car after the Blizzard of 2009!

First and foremost, we're not in control. We're part of an infinitely complicated system on this Earth, and as much as I'm sure the airlines wish they could've stopped the snow, it fell and fell and there wasn't a thing anyone could do. My favorite part of living in Alaska was feeling so completely humbled by the beauty of landscape around me, and all that Mother Nature could dish out to those of us who called it home. I was so awe inspired by how small I felt, and for the first time, I really understood what little power I had over the world around me. And it was beautiful. Mother Nature and all of her chaos - beautiful.

Second, when we're confronted with being completely out of control, anxiety does little to solve anything. That's an obvious concept, but not something I'm very good at putting into practice. When things go wrong, or we find ourselves in situations that are difficult, we can control how we react to them. It took a note from Nina and conversations with other travelers to remind me of that.

My first day skiing with poles at Alyeska Resort in Alaska! Circa 2007.

After work on Monday, Dan and I dug my little car out of the pile of snow she was under (see above) and drove north to Blue Mountain in Palmerton, PA for a couple hours of night skiing. I didn't start skiing until 2007 in Alaska when Dan convinced me I was silly to be afraid, and should just give it a try. I was worried about barreling down a hill completely out of control and killing myself, or worse - that I wouldn't be good at it! I'll never forget my first chairlift experience, which turned into a humiliating one after two beginning snowboarders merged into me while we were getting off and I got trampled. But a few weeks later, I was completely hooked and we were driving down to Alyeska every weekend from Anchorage that winter.

Skiing here in Pennsylvania is different, but still fun and I was giddy with excitement to get back out into the snow at Blue Mountain for the first runs of the year. The snow was great, the runs were mostly empty, and it was a perfect 32ºF outside. We spent almost three hours running up and down the mountain. I was nervous to get back onto skis again, but Dan reminded me it's like riding a bike. Muscle memory is amazing, and my muscles didn't seem to have forgotten much! Of course, that was after I bit it at the start of the first run when I tripped over my poles.

Dan's an incredible teacher, even though I'm not always a willing student, and he gave me a couple of pointers and drills to try that seemed to make a difference in my skiing last year. (I'm convinced he'd have been a professional skier at this point in his life if he'd completely dedicated himself to it. Some people just have it!) Thanks to him, I've progressed from an awkward, scared, unbalanced and stiff skier to a somewhat less awkward, less tense skier. I'm hoping to gain enough confidence this winter to keep up with Dan and my other more experienced friends!

What I did learn with absolute certainly last night is that properly fitting boots are absolutely key, just like climbing shoes. The Tecnica Vento 80 boots I bought last year don't quite fit right. ("Wait, my feet aren't supposed to fall asleep?") I'll definitely be in the market for new boots this winter, and would love to hear your favorites!