From the Back Cover:
“Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” the Canadian Border Services Officer inquired. “No,” I responded with a straight face and sweaty palms. “Are you sure you’ve never been convicted of a felony?” he repeated. “Not since 1955,” I admitted, guiltily. So began my journey back in time to a place I thought I had forever left behind.
Suddenly, I slipped on the steep snow slope and immediately began to slide out of control. The weight of my pack made it difficult to self arrest. I grasped the head of my ice axe, rolled over on my stomach, and drove the pick into the snow. Finally, I slid to a stop, arms extended, literally hanging from my ice axe with a death grip.
So, there we were, driving down the highway in a stolen car with a stolen safe in the trunk but the trunk lid couldn’t close because the safe was too large.
“Talk to me, talk to me!” my belayer Randy kept shouting to me as I hung on the rope in the fetal position 60 feet above him, out of breath, staring at the sky, wrapped up in a tangled mess of ice screws, rope, and ice tools after taking a fall. Did I mention I had the ass pain from hell?