We got up before the sun had crested above the mountains and hastily made breakfast in the brisk morning air. Cramming our feet into cold boots and shouldering our 30lb touring packs, we dashed off towards the alpine, gaining 500m in less than an hour. As we reached the narrow ridgeline that led to our objective, the sun came out and painted the mountains around us in brilliant gold underneath a deep blue ski.
In what felt like no time, we were standing above our first couloir. Narrowly nestled between two steep rock walls, the chute disappeared below me underneath its own progressively steepening curve. Pawing good, untracked snow, Étienne grinned from ear to ear at our line. I on the other hand couldn’t stop my legs from shaking, fear engulfing my thoughts.
Étienne launched down the couloir, effortlessly floating down the steep line while releasing waves of snow sluff which each turn. Tucking in safely behind a rocky outcrop, Étienne hollered up that it was my turn and reminded me to have some fun. I took a deep breath, dropped into the chute and tried not to crash into the rocks on either side of me. It wasn’t pretty, but I made it down without getting hurt and actually had a bit of fun.