Trust in a No-Fall Zone

At nine years old, I signed up to climb Mt. Tumbledown during my first summer away at camp. The day hike came on the heels of a rainy canoe trip down the Saco River. The double play prompted Justin, the trip counselor who always wore what I now know are Chacos, to remark that I was “quite the outdoorsman.” Considering I’d signed up for the only two off-campus excursions just for the chance to get ice cream on the way back, I didn’t think I deserved the honorific.

During mid March, my pal Jonah from Williams suggested we take a backcountry ski trip to descend Tuckerman Ravine, a ravine on Mt. Washington known both for its steepness and block-party style spring skiing. Due to its east-facing position and Mt. Washington’s notorious weather, Tux accumulates some 40–60 feet of snow per season. At age twelve, I had a snowball fight there in July.

As we drove up Thursday, following a summer-Friday amount of traffic leaving the city, we got a call from our guide, Josh. Josh had grown up around North Conway, NH and followed scholarships to a series of ski high schools as a mogulist. Two surgically repaired knees later, he would self-consciously acknowledge that Jonah perceived his caution as “dad skiing.”

Josh asked a bit of our background and plans for the weekend. I’d expected to spend Friday getting acquainted with the gear and avalanche safety. The…