Snow Blind (25 page)

“Be careful now Dan.” Juliet is the last thing I hear before I set off.

I match the rhythm of the words to each step. I dare to look up to see Juliet and the others. The snow tunnel evaporates behind them with each step, another twenty or so and I am off the ridge. I count them down, looking only for the safest foothold on the broken ice and snow below me. The rough safety rope rips the palm of my glove with every step. Seventeen left; it must have ripped a stitch in my glove as a pinprick of icy air hits my forefinger. Nine left; we are the last group visible on the ridge. Four more steps; even now a fall would be fatal. As I reach the end I step backwards onto the glacier and fall on my backside a safe distance away; having held my breath for most of the walk I am entitled to squeeze some air into my lungs.

“I thought I was over a couple of times there.” Juliet joins me in my prayer. We laugh together for the first time since I knew a child joins us. We are a broken family who never got a chance.

Max and Robert calmly appear, but Steve is gripped with fear. He sits away from us to recover some composure and lies prone on the snow.

“Steve, Steve,” Robert shouts up to him. “Listen you idiots, get your skis on quick. You don't know what is below the snow. You have a better chance with the skis as a platform. That goes for you two as well.” We follow the sound advice.

Gargantuan sheets of snow stretch before us. They eat up as much of the rock-scape as they can cling to.

“Seeing as we are carrying a few passengers we will head down the easy way. Keep right with me, and go under those cable cars as we head towards Italy. We will turn left behind that rock outcrop to the narrow bit, then it's straight down to the Montenvers train. We should be in Cham for four as planned.”

“This narrow bit, are you sure Dan and Steve can ski it?” Juliet interrupts Robert's belittling of the journey ahead.

“Of course, they're men aren't they? Come on then big daddy let's be having you.”

“It's not about sex; it's about ability.”

“Well I am confident of my sexual ability, what about you?” Robert casts a sharp glance at me; we share something too now, I am the only one here to have seen him in the sex act.

“What are you staring at? Lost your bottle like last night?”

“I am happy to follow you Robert if you say you can be trusted.” The end to the sentence is seen aggressively.

“What do you mean, trusted? I am trusted to run a multi-million pound company aren't I? I was the one trusted to organise your stag weekend for free rather than your busking best man wasn't I?”

“You also said you had organised a guide for us. You also said you wouldn't embarrass Dan last night…” Juliet is having none of it.

“I don't think he meant it like that.” Johnny tries to defuse Robert.

“I said I could lead this group from the start and I will. I've done this numerous times; it's the best buzz. Something a stag will never forget!” By bringing it round to me he has won the reluctant acceptance of all.

“Let's go do the VB then staggie.”

“Sure, in for a euro in for a pound. It is a stunning place mate so I suppose I should say thanks.” I converse with him.

“Keep about ten yards apart and follow me. Juliet, since you are so worried, you take up the rear-end position that you love so much.” Robert's insult draws a few titters.

Robert's skis draw a line outside the arc of any of today's skiers. I follow him, knee deep in a carpet of snow. My skis are held in perfect parallel lines by the trough of snow we are skiing. I try to move my ankles outward to get an inside edge but they are locked. I am alarmed; this isn't skiing, its more like being on a conveyor belt. Without control of my skis, the terrain sets the speed, altering my pace through imperceptible changes in gradient underfoot. To prove my point Robert stops for us to re-group; I strain to move my invisible skis into a snowplough. I use every muscle to slow me down but only halt by travelling over the back of Robert's skis.

“Magnificent lark hey? Look it's Mont Blanc up there.” He points out a snow-capped rounded hummock starting a few hundred metres away. How far have I travelled to reduce the aspect of such majesty? Europe and I can get no higher, although three climbers are trying to. The peak sits impassively: a benign giant reduced to a hummock from this height.

Robert and I set off immediately when the others arrive. Juliet is coaching a tentative Steve to stop; like me he needs something to run into to make it happen. We draw into a small valley formed by Mont Blanc on the right and a rocky outcrop to the left. Robert makes no concessions, immediately skiing through to the other side. My legs have started to shake, a straining leash against the force of gravity. Sweat runs from the edges of my hat to a dripping point under my chin. When I stop again I must put a more relaxing track on, maybe Massive Attack. I wonder what Bepe and Sophia are up to, most definitely at her parents or some distant relative close by. Home tomorrow, this trip has been exhausting. I will read all his books tomorrow night and do his bath, no matter what hassle I get from Sophia. Wonder if she remembered to check my mum and dad were okay to arrive on Thursday at the hotel? I see my knees disappear and it scares me, how deep can I sink?

“…Left Dan.” Short, sharp and in panic.

“Keep fucking left Dan.” Robert reiterates what I couldn't hear at first. The snow has fallen away steeply behind the outcrop and I am careering towards Robert. He must have stopped at some point because he is going so much slower than I am. I am going to pass him; yes I am going to miss him. I skate on past but I feel my ski clip something and am tossed limply into the air.

I laugh as I fall, thrust into abundant virgin snow. One ski comes off as the other flails overhead. Robert has disappeared from view as I slide head first towards the aching blue of a crevasse he was obviously trying to warn me about. I try to take in the beauty around me as I am flipped up to land in an upright sitting position. I turn my torso to the hill. No sooner had it started it was over. I have fallen and laughed.

I try to push myself up with my hands but sink deeper face first into the snow. I glimpse what it might be like to drown in the stuff. Robert grabs my jacket near the nape of my neck; like a mother cat carries a kitten and pulls me up.

“Shit, you scared me then.”

“I was a little scared myself.”

“Here, I found this up there for you.” He embeds my right ski in the snow, parallel with my other. He bashes packed snow from under my boot.

“You came tanking around that corner towards that crevasse. I thought you had a death wish for a minute. You know it's just a lark don't you? You are such an easy target; you should handle yourself better. You know I don't…” I thought Robert was extending both arms to start to hug me but he just brushes my jacket free from snow instead as the whole group catches up. They direct their anxieties at Robert.

“This is bloody tough Robert; you need to slow down…” Johnny challenges him.

“Will you lead us and stop pissing off and leaving us.” The first dissent I have heard from Max.

“If it wasn't for Juliet I would be stuck back at the ridge.” Steve reluctantly voices appreciation for her help.

“Can you stop being such a prat and just guide us down. Look at Dan, he's covered in snow,” says Juliet.

“I'll try.” The shortest sentence he has ever ushered. I am physically weakened but mentally heartened; nature is making him bow down.

C
HAPTER
37

Dan 14.40

Rugged rocks sneer down on our presence; funnelling our ski parade into more treacherous terrain. We start to pay it due respect, delicately navigating each turn through treacherous waters. My piratical mates are transformed into a bonded crew, formed around their selfish desire to steer onto the clear sea of ice below us, with the treasure of life intact. Cannon fire for once is directed away from the ship; focus switches to the common enemy of the surrounding burst of extreme nature.

“Together now, but not too close.” Robert takes the lead, halting effortlessly after every turn to check the group's safe passage.

“There's a dead body. Watch out Dan.” Max exaggerates to alert me to a dead rabbit in our path. Blood spots melt innocently into the snow, leading away from the remaining fur, bone and scarlet innards in the direction of a long-departed predator.

“I wouldn't have imagined foxes at this altitude.” Juliet points a finger at the murder suspect.

“Maybe it was Robert having a snack?” Johnny suggests from behind me.

“No, he only eats babies and prostitutes,” Juliet offers sarcastic defence.

“Did someone mention food?” Robert shouts up at us all.

“If we have to stop it may as well be now, but five minutes only. It's getting on for three o'clock. We need to get past these crevasses so we can relax. The last train down from Montenvers is about four thirty.” Robert offers us a break, although concern permeates, taking the pitch of his voice up a notch.

I realise my shin marrow is pulped. The steeper terrain and deep snow has trashed my technique and my shins misguidedly try to hold me upright in my boots. I clack my right ski off with my pole to seek some pressure relief.

“No, no, no. I told you to keep your skis on Dan. You could be standing on a snow bridge over a hidden crevasse for all we know!” shouts Robert.

“We might have known where to stand if you had bothered to make sure we had a guide,” Juliet risks pointing this out again.

“Let it go bitch.”

“Guys, just stop for a minute. Look up, look up, it's just magnificent.” The mountains silence the squabble with Johnny's assistance.

Each munching chin is pushed upwards and snivelling cold noses point skywards. The muffled sounds of confectionery and bread being pulped bear witness to our slight presence here. Johnny points out the enormous mountainous presence around us. We can ignore it on the move, but stood here all six of us acknowledge its uplifting joy. I watch Juliet taking it in; she is of this earth not rushing through it. She settles eyes on mine and mouths a wow to me, I grin childishly at her silent attention. Johnny sees our connection and I blush.

“Right. Enough is enough. Keep the pace steady through the next bit. Follow me.” Max is trying to rally Steve. I feel guilty at inwardly relishing Steve's discomfort, for fear of jinxing my progress. The group dynamic is chastened now; we know it is not just our ability that determines our progress. I pick up speed on our first turn. I jab my poles into the snow to slow down; at first they sink into powder but eventually stick into the underlying ice, snapping my wrists back on contact. I stop but am pulled backwards as I have skied past the poles. I pull my hands free from the straps as I am too far down the slope to pull them out. After three deliberate side steps up the slope I am reunited with my poles. It seems an age since Sophia and I last spoke. As I am about to ski on a hesitant Steve comes inside me so I let him pass; all enjoyment has been sucked from his face, even his brittle veneer of confidence at the top has been shattered now. His legs are forced into an unsustainable snowplough, his whole body leans back from the slope, his hands held close in front as if he is about to box someone. No sympathy arises in me, just guilty triumph over his pricked ego.

“Just let yourself go quickly over the dip here, the hill will slow you down as you come out. It might be a crevasse so just move quickly over it. Come on, it's three o'clock now.” Robert is handing out more tactics. Steve rattles through the dip and halts on the opposing slope. Robert reaches his pole down and pulls him up and away to the right.

“Last man over lankster.”

I pull my legs parallel, determined to avoid the ignominy of Steve's tattered snowplough style. Fast over the crevasse, fast over the crevasse I goad myself. I picture the deep hole underneath my feet, all ice caves and edges, and shoot over it effortlessly. As I rise up the opposite slope everyone comes into view on my right lined up behind Robert. I smile at them confident of my fluid technique. Having skied so well the weight lifts from my feet and I pop over the ridge they stand on as well.

“Stop Dan,” Juliet screams.

“Hey Dan, where are you off to? Max adds with inappropriate calm.

I maintain my parallel ski stance in the deep snow and sail past everyone. There is no control; they are jammed into tramlines again. There is nothing in my technique other than to force an ignominious fall. I drop onto my right side and explode into the snow.

I am falling and laughing: ripped from my skiing heaven to an icy earth. It's a juicy fall one which sloshes my thoughts round like a drunk's glass and bellows pride from my lungs. Suffocating ice particles in my mouth make me gag. I am perversely relieved to surrender to gravity but it makes me want to cry in anxiety over my future. I set a false defiant smile into the gorgeous late afternoon sun. This is for the sake of my ego and assorted friends, but it fools no one, especially me.

Hell I know why I fell; I fell because I am me. I am the common denominator who surrendered to this downfall. My stags may have bullied me into this but it was unwise, I let them come together. I can't even blame the fall on that bastard Robert, he has tried me from the moment I let him set the trip destination and manipulated it right to the point of this off-piste jaunt. The fall started when Sophia's dad bullied me into getting married just because he had booked some country club; how weak am I? Parents like myself sneer at their children saying that pride come before a fall, and so they should. But what would my children think of me in this predicament?

The heart of a crevasse defies all expectation; how can an accumulation of something so white be so vibrantly blue? These blue lines drop away in every direction, encircling my journey. My flight instinct kicks in but I am weak. I cycle my legs casting off huge splashes of snow, but they are irrelevant to my efforts to slow down. Cavernous crevasses and shattered seracs must be sharpening their stalactites to welcome me to their wintry isolation. I belatedly turn my torso uphill and flap my gloves at nothing in particular. My desperate acts slow me down but not enough. I am too close now, I wait the moment of take off, I know it will come. Play it out now, whatever is to be, I am sick of this life of suspended…