I have spent the entire winter behind the camera filming this winter. I usually get a few deep pow days in front of the camera. This year we have had a lot of new athletes coming out with us so I haven’t had the opportunity. Noah and I decided it’s now or never if I’m going to get in the movie, so Noah filmed and Jay Beyer shot stills. 

20+" in March, me likey.

It's nice making turns not worrying about having a camera and tripod in my pack.

skiing in the clouds.

If only film was as friendly as stills, because a tagged a hidden rock on this turn and went down.

I enjoy a nice face shot.

I promise I'm in there.

It’s always nice to ditch the camera and just ski, it helps remind me why I do this. I may or may not make it in the movie this year, but I think the fact that I have been so busy filming this winter only speaks to how good the next movie will be.

Megan Michelson was recently in town to ski and film. She had an exciting experience she wanted to write about. 

I was on top of a narrow ridge, skinning out toward a line I’d spotted from below. The sun was starting to sink lower in the sky and I was hurrying to get one more run in before we called it a day. Noah was ahead of me, setting the skin track. At one point, the ridge pinched as skinny as my two skis were wide. The slope dropped precipitously to my left and right. The earth below me felt sturdy, like solid rock. Noah went first and crossed over to a wider platform. I slide across behind him. Suddenly, the floor gave out, as if I were standing on weak glass that shattered at my touch. Before I had time to react, I was plummeting downward. I tried to claw with my hands to grab onto something, but it was too late. You know those amusement park rides where you drop at zero gravity and your stomach feels like it’s in your feet? That’s what it felt like, only I had no idea how far I would be falling or what I’d crash over in the process. A few excruciating seconds later, I hit ground, tumbled, and eventually came to a stop in a powdery pile. I fell through a weak, overhanging cornice that hovered above a 20-foot vertical rock face. Miraculously, all I suffered was a scraped elbow. The lessons I learned? Don’t hurry; take your time in potentially dangerous situations. Be extra careful to scout for overhanging cornices. And most importantly, don’t let big guys like Noah weaken the cornice ahead of you. As for that line I was scouting, I’ll be back to try it again. —Megan Michelson