I an Steger was disoriented and scared. Of course he was. He was sprawled upside down in the dark, under more than 6 feet of snow, the weight of which was pressing down on his chest, making it a struggle to breathe what little air there was.
Steger was an athletic 40-year-old, but that didn't matter. He knew there was no way to escape. A good friend had died just three months earlier in this exact situation. Steger accepted that he, too, was about to die.
His mind raced, full of images and regrets, of words and feelings he wished he had shared with friends and loved ones when he'd had the chance. Too late now.
He had no idea what suffocating to death felt like. He hoped it would be peaceful.
Steger grew up in Bellingham, Washington, about an hour or so from where he was now trapped in the Mount Baker Ski Area. When he was 2 years old and just learning to walk, his father had hauled him to the area and taught him to ski. He loved it, and he later took up snowboarding on the mountain.
His job as a real estate agent gave him a flexible schedule, the chance to hit the slopes whenever he wanted. He typically went to the ski area more than 30 times a year, and he made it a point to be there whenever storms dumped fresh powder. March 3, 2023, a Friday, was such a day.
The area is nicknamed Powder Mountain. Experienced skiers and snowboarders are drawn to the virgin powder outside the routes maintained by the ski patrol. The backcountry boundaries are marked by ropes and signs to warn people that they're leaving the safe zone.
"Safe" is the operative word.
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