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“Come on! It’s time!!”

Tim rolled to his right in an attempt to check the clock. The bright red, digital numbers blurred together as he inhaled deeply, nearly choking on his whiskey flavored breath. A quick eye rub and focused effort revealed 6:45 AM. Stumbling out of bed and into some clothes he felt his way down the stairs and crawled into Sam’s vehicle, where all the necessary items for the day had been thoughtfully packed by the owner, before he awoke the wounded soldier. He understood his friend’s plight and wanted to help out where and when he could. With a few coffees in tow, they set off to acquire Dave and head out of town.

Tim had been waiting on this day to arrive for the better part of four months now, but as a third-party observer, you’d never come to that conclusion. He slept the whole way to the mountain, labored to pull on his boots and begrudgingly waded through the crowded parking lot to board the lift.

It was not just a hangover holding Tim back. Earlier in the week, his longest term relationship had run its course. It was a sudden end to what had been a nearly flawless two years. He loved everything she loved. She loved everything he did. And they loved each other. Don’t ask why, but that wasn’t enough. At 7:55 PM on Tuesday, November 8th, while Tim was gathering ski gear for the coming weekend, Karen delivered the news that she was seeing someone else. There were no emotional, sobbing goodbyes or dramatic, movie-worthy arguments. It was just…over.

At first glance, he appeared to take it quite well. He finished organizing his equipment, made a mental list of things to ready for the weekend and went to sleep. Wednesday morning came and he went to work as if nothing had happened. Thursday morning, Friday morning, same result. He told no one. It was Friday afternoon, upon the rumor mill arriving at Sam, when everything began to fall apart. They headed to The Ship for an after work pint and as it so easily can, one turned into two, which turned into rye, which turned into Dave joining, which turned into shots, which turned into…a slight memory lapse.

As they stood in line with the masses, waiting for the gondola, Tim started to think. Something he had avoided for the past few days with a steady diet of denial and alcohol. He thought of the first time he met Karen and the way she held his attention with her unending smile. He recalled their first phone conversation, how he thought it would never end and he how happy he was when it didn’t.

A petite, Australian cutie scanned Tim’s pass and smiled, flirtingly.

He thought of their first date, which began as just dinner but somehow progressed to a midnight poaching of the local outdoor pool and ended while they watched the sun gradually illuminate the massive Alberta sky.

Tim stood up and began to glide forward, following Sam and Dave.

As they cruised gingerly along the ridge his thoughts still lingered on Karen. Dave dove right towards the Garbage Chutes and Tim arced after him. His edges sunk in and his pace increased with the angle of the slope. A quick hop over the rock, a banked left off the wind-sculpted feature, through the trees and into the first real turns of the season.

They each picked their own line through the sparse, early November coverage but Tim’s definitely stood out. It flowed perfectly between the rocks and the final half straightline proved it to be the most aggressive. As they briefly gathered at the bottom, admiring their work, they smiled and exchanged pole clanks. No one mentioned Tim’s line, but everyone knew.

When they reached the lift corral his mind, although thankful for its brief hiatus, began to wander back to Karen. The long, autumn walks by the Bow as vibrant shades of orange and yellow cascaded around them while her hair reached up to occasionally tickle his neck.

“I hated fall, until I met her” he thought.

“I could totally drop that rock and rip out through that little chute.”

“I wish Karen was here with me right now. She would love this.”

He slid off the chair and followed the boys left, in the direction of the Headwall. As it rolled over, the early season rocks shone in all their glory. Dave and Sam slowed to pick their lines. Tim did not. He had skied this area thousands of times and he simply trusted his memory and ability. Cruising past another group of innocent bystanders he cut left around the upper hazards and into a hanging patch of snow with no tracks. A quick side hill traverse allowed him to confirm his suspicions and, without further hesitation, he aired the fifteen foot outcropping. The landing was stuck and the remaining vertical was ran, straight and true. At the bottom the group gathered for some more pole clanks and an exchange of smiles.

“How’s the day going boys?” the long, blonde haired lift operator shouted over the background noise of the chair.

Tim smiled, “It’s great to be back!”

As they sat down on the chair Tim began to think again, although this time, it was not of Karen. He did not think of the way her soft, beautiful skin felt against his cheek or how her hair would flip up from under her toque after a long day on the mountain. He did not think of her deep, green eyes yearning while she held him tight and a spring thunderstorm flashed over the foothills. Instead, he thought about the line he saw on the last lift ride. He thought about the speed he would need into it and the angle at which he would have to make his approach.

As they neared the top, Tim spoke. “I’ve got one, boys. Virgins. Follow me.” And they did.

He led the group to the top, began to retract his pace and started to survey the situation. This line is nothing in January, but the low snow fall had exposed a few extra obstacles and created something worthy of attention. An item that was easily garnered given the proximity of the lift.

“Fifteen foot drop. Land in that chute. Straight for twenty feet and out to the right.”

A holler came from the chair, “Rip it!”

“Plan is sensible. Check. No one coming from the right. Check. Helmet. Not check.”

As he rotated his skis toward the fall line, Tim did not think about the road trip he and Karen had made down the coast of Oregon and her smile when she reached to hold his hand, while in front of them the Pacific swallowed the brilliant sun. He did not think of the day the both called in sick to work and stayed together in bed, alternating between sex and conversation. He thought of nothing in particular and simply began to react.

The landing was perfect and as he exited the small chute banking to his right a few indiscernible words of encouragement were shouted from above. Tim came to rest near the bottom and again, began to think. He thought of the next line to concur that day, and if Roger’s might have good snow for next week. He thought about the new places skiing would take him this winter. He thought about steep couloirs, pillow lines and deep interior B.C. powder. He thought about friends, both short-lived and lifelong, that the season would bring. And as a wisp of long dark hair, flipped up from under a white toque, went sliding past him, he thought about a fresh start.