The jagged boulders at the bottom of the snow-filled gully werent fully covered by the snow. They lay in a jumble, piled there by the receding glacier from the last ice age. There was plenty of time to fully regard them as he accelerated towards them, approaching some terminal velocity, down the ice chute into which hed been unceremoniously pitched, headlong. Thus begins Rick Farrells account of what, by most measures, would have been his last experience on earth. That it wasnt is something of a miracle. At the end, he knew he was a blood brother with the snow that would melt and flow into the sea
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