By Jeff Teachout
My friend and I were snowshoeing in the Adirondack backcountry when a massive avalanche behind me blocked our trail back to civilization. When I turned around to make sure my friend was not harmed, I didn’t see them. I began frantically shouting their name, taking brief pauses in between to listen, but I heard nothing, just an echo of my own cries for help. I can feel the fear slowly begin to spread across my body pulsating busting steaming from my head. It rushes through me that not only have I lost my friend, but also today they were my guide. They had promised to teach me about winter camping and survival techniques for winter conditions. I can feel the warmth of my tears as they streak down my cold face, their trails freezing behind them.
I scream once again in a desperate hope. In the silence I hear a faint whistle. Though distant and barely audible, it fills me with hope, causing those dark fears to be washed away like when I added cream to my coffee earlier today while we went over our gear list. The shovel! It leaps in front of me as I frantically strip my pack from my back. Attached to the handle of my shovel sits a safety whistle. That noise… This is what it must have been. I begin to dig wildly where I thought I heard the distant sound of hope coming from. Soon my hole is as deep as my foot long shovel. I jam my head into the hole screaming their name: nothing. So again I scream, but only the wind whistles to me. I start digging frantically in an attempt to find my friend.
Now my hole is as deep as I am tall. I am surrounded by darkness, and something appears to be blocking any light from entering my tunnel to salvation. Suddenly, there is a strong force unlike anything I have felt before pulling upon my snowshoes; with a whoosh of air I am rushed from my safe place back into daylight. There they stand looking at me as though I had grown a second head in our time apart. Disbelief fills me with such force that I lose the ability to form words and begin to cry with joy as I stare at my friend. They ask, “What in the hell were you doing?”
“You… you, I was looking for you, the snow came and when I turned around you were gone!”
“Ugh… I had told you I was going off trail to the bathroom.” My friend consoles me while helping me reattach my shovel to my pack. They notice a matted down dark spot on the back of my head. “I’m calling our trip early, let’s head home tonight. We can always try again later,” they say, while we start walking towards the snow that had fallen early on the trail. “We can’t go back that way, the snow is blocking the path.” I tell them. They shake their head as they walk up the snow pile and wave for me to follow them.
Jeff Teachout moved to Paul Smith’s College in the fall to pursue a degree in Environmental Studies. Passionate about nature, studying at Paul Smith’s was an excellent fit. Jeff has been exploring the great outdoors his entire life, from summers camping with family and friends, to quiet hikes alone. He hopes that one day he can join the fight in preserving nature, through any means possible; be it through writing about views he has seen hiking or maybe some Monkey Wrenching. He has found a home for himself within the Paul Smith’s community.