Last Thursday a few friends and I were up at Squaw Valley and were taking our last runs. We were by the bottom of the Solitude lift and I traversed and climbed up a little to hit a fun looking 8 foot cliff. I shot off the cliff and landed solid but with a lot of speed. It was getting bumpy and tracked out so it was hard to slow down. I saw a patch of powder ahead and I planned on carving through it to slow down and get a nice turn in. I hit a bump off-balance and nosedived on the landing which sent me into the air backwards. Expecting a soft, powdery landing I put all my weight in to it. But I was immediately stopped by what felt like a jagged brick wall in the middle of my back. It made a sickening noise, similar to the sound you get when trying to snap a soggy branch. I gasped in pain and imagined all my organs being punctured and leaking all over my insides. I looked behind me to see what ruined my day, which probably wasn't smart at the time considering the trauma to my back seconds earlier. It was a gnarly tree stump or bit of exposed fallen log maybe 6 inches in diameter.
After my friends and I decided against calling Ski Patrol, we headed back over to the gondola and down to the base. Nick ran to get the car while I waited. He returned moments later with the car idling 50 yards away. He came up to me, grabbed our snowboards and headed to the car and returned again, to tell me he locked his keys inside, with it still running. Perfect. At this point it was two hours after the accident and my vision had been blurring for ten minute stretches and I tasted blood at random moments. So my imagination was going wild, inventing rare medical cases I'd most likely have. I saw all the blood and other fluids from all my organs spilling down my body on the inside to my feet. Each moment making my chances of survival less and less. It's amazing the thoughts that can run through your head when something traumatic happens and you just don't know what is going on.
Twenty five minutes later, loaded into my own car, I was being driven by a Chilean friend to the hospital in Truckee with another riding on my bed in the back. Fortunately it turned out I was wrong and wasn't dying . All I had was a fractured rib, a bruised lung and what would soon be, a nasty bruise in my middle back. I also happened to be very lucky. The doctor told me if I had hit the log an inch to the right on my spine I could have broken my back or even been paralyzed. Lucky indeed. So they gave me a prescription for painkillers and sent me on my way.
Now, a week later and I feel no closer to getting on a snowboard. After several days in this motel room I began to go crazy. I had sacrificed too many hygienic standards and the mess, constant noise, disorder and stench pushed me to my limits. 72 hours straight there would drive even the most open minded person mad though. No offense to the people living there. They are good friends and good people, but they are living in a shithole. The last few days were spent with my Aunt in Portola Valley and now San Francisco with a friend. The recovery was going well until I spent six straight hours on my feet yesterday taking pictures at my friend Taylor's parents' home in Sonoma. I head back to Tahoe tomorrow to hopefully begin shooting photos again, but we'll see if I'm up to it.
Here are some photos from my time in Lake Tahoe so far:
Nick, Foster and Cote building a jump near homes in Alpine Meadows
Jump building - the jump throws you over a tree and down a slope
Cote hiking
Cote, rodeo
Alpine Meadows homes
Nick Ellis on a North Lake dock
The three roommates minus one - Foster, Nick, Cote
Sunset at North Lake
