Skier Dies
“Monday morning crap,” Joe said aloud to himself. Seated at his desk with a cup of coffee, he was contemplating the mass of salesmen that always call on this day. Salesmen were sharks in suits and ties. They were sneaky and they didn’t care who they devoured. He also had an appointment with his accountant at one and his lawyer at three. Accountants he thought less of and he tried very hard never to think of lawyers. Lawyers and the loss of money seemed to go hand and hand. They were appointments that he was not looking forward to.
“When this day is over with,” he sighed, “I’ll be one happy man.”
He reached for the last donut in the box on his desk. Just as he was about to bite into it, he heard a faint trace of a siren. It was growing louder. He stood and walked to the window. The phone began to ring. It startled him.
“Yeah this is Joe,” he barked into the phone.
“Tom here, you had better get down the road past the end of the lot. You’ll see the sheriff’s car. Come right away.”
“What’s up?”
“We found someone just off the road. He didn’t make it.”
Joe headed for the door. He leapt off the stairs and saw the flashing red lights of the ambulance and three sheriff’s patrol cars. Lance, Tom and a few employees were huddled in a circle over a crumpled form in the snow. The body was about a hundred from an avalanche run out and several feet from the road.
“It looks like he crawled out of the bottom of the chutes from the direction of the tracks. He almost made it, looks like he was trying to signal a passing car. Poor kid,” Lance said.
“Damn fool kid,” Joe’s face was flushed with anger. “He’s the one I chased off from under the ropes yesterday.”
“Yeah, I recognize the outfit,” Tom agreed.
A tall burly forest ranger ambled over to Joe. He rested his arm on his shoulder.
“Sorry to see this Joe,” he said, “It looks fairly cut and dry to me.”
“I-I don’t know what to say Burt, We warned the kid yesterday. We put up signs, roped off the trails, closed whole sections of the mountain and they still have to sneak under the ropes and ski out of bounds.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to stick around most of the day Joe. It will take awhile to notify next of kin, and to process the necessary paper work.”
“I’ll be here all day, got a lot of appointments today.”
“O.K. Joe, see you later today.”
Joe turned and started for the lodge. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his shoulders stooped low. Every year the Big Basin claimed lives. If they were lucky it would only be one. They either died in Avalanches in the chutes or far out of bounds. Some died skiing the Professor from the top of the Continental Divide. He tried desperately to prevent the deaths or minimize the risks. It was just the Law of Nature in the mountains.
He walked into the bar area. It was early and the bartender was setting up.
“I’ll have a quick stiff one,” he said.
The drink was poured and Joe reached down and grabbed the glass. His big hand shook unsteadily as he raised it and saluted a large sign hanging on the wall.
The sign read, “NOTHING IN MODERATION.”
