Mike Meldman - Explore Big Sky

outdoorS
StEEp and EMptY
Moonlight’s north Summit Snowfield
by ruSS Mcelyea
It’s difficult to understand how
massive and wild Moonlight Basin
is without skiing the North Summit
Snowfield.
My first trip down this incredible
route was several years ago with Merik
Morgan of the Moonlight ski patrol.
Merik is a veteran with a love of steep,
empty places where the rules are different
and decisions have consequences.
He gets quiet joy from sharing
these places with others. Merik told
me he patrols for Moonlight because
terrain like North Summit gives him
“Fear was replaced by pure,
deep joy and a profound conviction
that nothing mattered
but this time and this place.”
a full opportunity to use a craft built
over a lifetime.
Unlike Merik, I spend most of my day
at Moonlight on the phone, in front of
a computer, or in meetings. Although
I’d skied Moonlight’s lower mountain
before there were chairlifts, and have
skied many great lines at other resorts
and in the backcountry, I’d never
made time for the North Summit. I
thought it was just another nice route
among many. I was wrong.
The tram ride to the top of Lone Peak
was typical. Conversation died as we
got closer to the Big Couloir, and each
skier became lost in his or her own
thoughts. Merik and I made the short
hike around to the Moonlight patrol
shack, checked gear and signed in. I
ventured a peek off the north side.
There was no bottom, only vast space
and a world tipped vertical.
Like many skiers pushing 50, I
remembered what it was like to be
25 and log a 100 plus days a season.
But those days were gone, and places
like the North Summit force a hard
reality check. I knew my timing was
off, my legs were not what they used
to be, and that too many days behind
a desk might produce a reckoning I
was unprepared to accept. Despite the
friendly banter in the patrol shack,
my heart rate accelerated, and my
breathing flattened. As we waited for
the Snowfield to clear, I wondered
whether I had gotten into something
bigger than I could handle. If Merik
sensed this, he said nothing.
After a briefing on protocol, we began
the descent to the top of the route. By
the time we got to the entrance, I had
forgotten most of what I knew about
skiing, and a potent mix of fear and
exhilaration dominated. My belief
that the North Summit was just another
line was gone. Merik invited me
to go, and I knew I had to stick those
first turns. The snow was creamy and
forgiving, and all those years of skiing
came back in a rush. Fear was replaced
big Sky Weekly
by pure, deep joy and a profound conviction
that nothing mattered but this
time and this place. I was completely
and fiercely alive for the first time in a
long while.
The first safety zone came too quickly.
Merik and I paused, and talked operations:
whether we could, or more importantly,
should build a lift to serve
this incredible terrain. We looked into
Great Falls, decided it was thin, and
traversed into a world of awesome
steepness. For the first time, I saw the
bottom and our objective, the Meeting
Trees. Each pole plant was a long reach
of faith; each turn burned vertical
gone forever.
Then it was over.
I’ve skied the North Summit a number
of times since. I, too, have felt the
satisfaction of sharing this experience
with others; and each time has been
a reminder that life is only full at the
boundaries where outcomes are uncertain.
With experience, I have a different
perspective on the Snowfield,
and although familiar now, it stands
beautiful and undiminished.
But there was only one first time, and
it profoundly changed how I think
about our mountain and the people
who work here. Thanks, Merik, and
the entire Moonlight team for this gift.
Russ McElyea is COO at
Moonlight Basin.
March 4, 2011 39