Hard Realities

With the standard ski season wrapping up, the last few weeks have been a whirlwind tour of details and packing. Ski touring and expedition mode have replaced chairlift rides and ski patrolling. The daily routine and anticipation of the upcoming departure are quickly becoming one and the same, as life distills to wanderlust. But even as that flight over the pond is imminent, we won’t ever truly depart from all things stateside. An expedition displaces the body, but with its all-consuming nature, never allows us to escape from the hard realities of our lives. Those, we carry with us.

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Brandon Smith's Teton Metal Project, a work in progress paying tribute to Walker Kuhl and Greg Seftick.

(photo B. Smith)

Light clouds rolled in and out, and the sun shone down, offering a welcome change from the typical gray, blustery cold of Lone Peak. Riding the chair, I got a call from a friend in town, the sort of call no one ever wants to receive. His voice was urgent, anxious, and for good reason. Greg was missing, overdue two days from a trip into the Tetons’ Garnet Canyon. A good friend and strong ski partner, it didn’t make sense. They’re ok, I told myself. They’re out there somewhere. But when I found out his partner, Walker, was supposed to be at work the day before, I became nervous.

A large-scale search and rescue effort by multiple agencies in the Jackson Hole vicinity consumed the days to follow. Aerial surveys revealed devastating avalanche debris piles in the canyon, likely where the two had been planning to camp. Six days into the search, they were uncovered, deep within debris from an avalanche on Nez Perce. Shock and sadness ran on high. The questions- whys and hows- poured out along with our tears. Foundations rattled, hearts wrenching, we stood in disbelief, our fallen friends weighing heavy on our minds.

The day they found Greg and Walker was sunny and beautiful, and I gazed south to the Tetons as I rode the last tram of the day to the summit of Lone Peak. On top, the wind was light and the air warm, a beautiful spring afternoon. It was also empty, devoid of the kindred souls taken by the mountains. I paused for a moment on top, then paradoxically enjoyed smooth turns down the south face.

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Greg Seftick nearing the top of Jackson Peak, May 2009

(photo R. Minton)

Greg Seftick, aka Wildcat, was a smart, motivated and strong ski partner. He was a great friend and brother, and a caring doctor. He balanced successes in all facets of existence, and was always excited for a good time in the mountains or at the bar. He put me at ease, with his zero bullshit demeanor and solid friendship. In the weeks leading up to his death, I had spoken on the phone with him a couple times, excitedly tossing around ski ideas for post-season, before heading overseas. The sun shines and the sky is blue today, leaving me to wonder where we would be making turns.

There is much we will leave in Bozeman in one week. The memory of Greg will come with us, though. And in the mountains of the Altai, we will celebrate the spirit of an outstanding individual, never forgotten through our travels in high places, pondering constantly- “What would Wildcat do?”

We’re partying for you, Greg.