December 2023
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his backcountry skiing operation. Today, CMH is the most experienced heli-resort in the world, employing 500 people. Although Gmoser didn't invent the idea of heli-skiing, which had been tried in the French Alps, he did invent heli-hiking, an ingenious jump-start means of experiencing the high alpine lakes, peaks, glaciers and snowfields without the extensive approach. I thought it might feel like cheating to be catapulted up into paradise without the grunt work to get here. Surely we'd annoy the real hikers who'd spent two or three days schlepping to the top only to find us up here, a bunch of goofy, camera-happy tourists who'd dropped down from the sky for lunch. And the truth is, I would have felt silly had I seen any such hikers, but fortunately, was spared the humiliation. It's now the second day of hiking around the Bugaboos and I'm on a secret quest to find the perfect place to build a cabin and stay the rest of my life. My imagined cabin would be beside one of these indigo lakes where fresh water brooks tumble down the green hills amidst star fields of flowers. I'd be in the wild heart of the mountains, where not a single blossom, bird or birch tree would know anything of traffic, gas stations or big box stores. Once again, despite being the youngest, I'm trailing the group. I have to say I'm impressed with the fitness level of my fellow hikers. This morning I felt like a keener, waking up to attend the 7 a.m. stretch class, and was amazed to find the room not empty, but packed full with sixty-something female Pilates enthusiasts who'd obviously been core-strengthening every morning of their New York lives. After navigating another boulder field-with Margo out in front-and traversing a valley forest dark and rich with the earthy scent of conifers, we climb up to a glacier lake the color of a tropical sea. Paul, who always reminds us that we're the ones who set the pace, suggests it's a nice spot for lunch. We sit down in the flower-jeweled grass and tuck into our packed snacks of goat-cheese sandwiches and hearty chocolate oatmeal cookies as we women try not to stare at Paul. Instead, we stare at the glass-clear lake and the snowcapped mountains reflected in it. The Miami attorney sighs and says, "This place makes you think that maybe the world isn't such a bad place after all," more to himself than to anyone else. He's right. That's exactly what it makes you think. On my third day I get into a conversation with a retired executive named Glenda who tells me that ever since her 60th birthday seven years ago, she has been giving herself an annual gift: she does one thing a year she has never done before-ridden horses, learned Italian in Italy, scaled a climbing wall. Now she's heli-hiking on her 67th birthday. I love this idea and start throwing out suggestions for next year-a shuttle into space perhaps-when, after jumping across a line of streams trickling down a wildflower mountain, I see it: my perfect place, the site for my cabin, another life that could be mine.
PARADISE FOUND Then I hear something-whirling blades and a clamor in the sky. The helicopter is coming to take us to another paradise. But we're already here. I'm rolling in paradise, even getting a little soaked and muddy in it from all these streams. Every fiber of my being wants to shout out one question: how can anywhere else be better? I look up to see Paul coming toward me. I make my plea from the ground. "Can't I just stay here?" He seems to consider this but tells me I really should see what's coming next. He even stretches his hand down to pull me up. "You'll see what I mean," he says with a wink. "Alright," I say weakly. Clearly I'm amoebalike when a cute guy winks at me. No spine at all. But Paul is right. The helicopter ride is unlike any we've had until now, an IMAX extravaganza of dizzying proportions. After an unclear amount of time-when you're that deep in the .... |
