There were many recent downed soldiers, branches sticking out of the snow.
Looking down the path, it look loaded.
I decided to cut the left flank of the gully, over to a treed ridge.
What I got was a sinking, submarining trip to the bottom of the snowpack about three feet down.
My efforts to release my binding were met with more sinking and twisting with no binding release.
My knee was popping and slowly twisting out of place.
Not ideal, but a better option than skiing down with a dislocated knee, broken leg.
The Gore had me whimpering, and showed me who boss.
Thanks to Big J for saving my leg.
I took a moment assessed the leg and continued on down skiers left flank of the gully.
We quickly realized the gully was not an option.
Every turn rolling into the side of the gully was met with instant slab release into it.
The sixty mile an hour winds had done their job.
It propagated to a foot deep and a hundred feet wide.
It started to suck me with it towards the last stand the trees.
Impressive to say the least.
We named the chute El Terrible (te-ree-ble).
A humbling, sketchy, slightly painful run in the Gore.
Wouldn’t have it any other way.
