Assiniboine

Fate had me and Justin ski 30 km into Assiniboine Mountain, Canada's 6th largest peak, without proper equipment nor knowledge of the challenge.
We left excited and naive, with enormous falls causing bruises and near impalement, but also laughter and fun. We skiied on, enjoying a mild winter day, with few others as we continued our journey deep into a snowy landscape. We stopped for food and tea, but our clothes being so wet from our falls kept us moving.

As daylight waned and water bottles became empty, we started to realize our journey was perhaps impossible. Yet we were too far in, and we knew we needed shelter that night, without cover, without shovels, and with our bodies becoming colder as the falls into snow became slower more often and more time-consuming.

We did not speak of our fears, of being alone at night on our skiis without lamps, without beacons, without warmth. We kept skiing, we were in this together.

As we went up another steep mountain shoulder, I realized that Justin's wish of seeing the sunset was coming true, only we were far from our cabin. I turned to wait for him to share the irony, but I did not see him coming. Knowing he had the larger pack, I walked back to him, sinking at each step up to my thighs. I saw him struggling to get to me, so I sat and waited. I yelled "come on, it's not far". The look on his face told me everything. He was terrified and exhausted. But when he started to apologize for the mistakes he had made, I would not hear it. We had to look to the goal, we had to keep going. I told him we were capable of so much more, that we would make it. I believed this then and I was right. What we mistakenly did without brains, we could make up for with brawn.

So we skiied, we walked, we sank, we fell. As the moon became hidden by clouds, we lost our trail completely. We had to keep moving, and after a few full out shouts for help, we knew that we were the only ones who could help us. We talked of staying outside, but with a short discussion, we both knew without shelter we had to get inside.

Justin took out a highly inaccurate map and a compass. With one light between us, he went in front, and kept moving us towards the direction we knew our cabin was in. I followed him, putting my ski exactly behind his. I was hypothermic and I knew it, so I let him think for me, guide me and my job was to keep my skiis moving.

Suddenly he found the trail, even through the wind blown valley and the covered moon. We howled at the night and used our adrenaline to get over the last hump to a mountain lodge that was 200times more than the cost of our cabin. We asked them for help and they fed us soup and tea. I started to cry, I started to bawl. They gave us a free room in their unheated top floor, covered with the weight of huge quilts and full of potato soup.

Since that night, Justin makes soup often. We sleep under a warm quilt with our cats cuddling us in the too often unheated apartment. The mocassin he almost dropped and had to go back for at one point sits beside our bed, and we laugh about almost losing it.


At times we have fought and thought about leaving each other. But we have thought about that night, at what we did for each other, how we perfectly complemented each other with strength, hope, faith and trust. There was one goal, and we both knew the truth of our situation. We acted as the best human beings we could be, never losing it, never giving up. When we had to make decisions, we did not blame each other nor let our emotions get away. Yet we were there for each other, emotionally and physically.

This is the person Justin makes me and the person I want to be for him and the world.