"We shouldn’t believe that small wrongdoing can do no harm, because even a small spark can ignite a giant pile of hay. Similarly, the value of the smallest good deeds should not be underestimated, for even tiny flakes of snow, falling one atop another, can blanket the tallest mountains in pure whiteness." — Jamling Tenzing Norgay Touching My Father's Soul
"The rope comes tight to my harness and I follow it into the maze of snow flutings. My movements feel in tune with our environment. A rhythmic tempo takes over my thoughts: I simply kick, step and breathe. Our line of ascent feels like water flowing uphill, naturally rolling through the terrain. An expression of life rather than a fight for survival." — Michael Gardner Alpinist Magazine, Issue 77, "Worth the Weight"
"We are all existing on thin ice, not only in the mountains. Each loss evokes the often-invisible voids beneath our feet. Each threshold moment can seem to open a multitude of branching, alternative timelines, like the patterns of frost on a window, curling into infinite fractal forms, tracing phantom narratives of falls untaken, ice unbroken, illnesses uncaught, decisions unmade." — Katie Ives Alpinist Magazine, Issue 77, "Of Thin Ice"
"When the air chills, I, too, watch myself turn, temporarily, to crystal. Rime slowly forms along the loose strands of my hair, in thicker and thicker flowers of white and silver, encrusting my lashes until I have to rub my eyes or blink hard to keep my vision clear." — Katie Ives Alpinist Magazine, Issue 77, "Of Thin Ice"
"I've seen deep-green moss and delicate alpine plants glow emerald, burgundy and gold beneath a spume of translucent ice—safely beneath the reach of my sharp axe and crampon points—like miniature worlds of living things preserved in giant drops of amber or globes of glass." — Katie Ives Alpinist Magazine, Issue 77, "Of Thin Ice"
"[A whiteout is] not just snow but snow in a tantrum, snow angry at being used for too many pretty winter scenes in postcards and poems, snow proving it can be mean and serious." — Julia Alvarez via Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"[When discussing whether to report an avalanche] I wondered if I would be ridiculed for not knowing exact specifics, or for getting my terminology wrong. Maybe my line wasn’t rad enough. Maybe I was exposing a secret by including names of access and route lines. Maybe I was simply overreacting altogether." — Matt Hansen Powder Magazine, "Getting Beyond the Emotional Game of Reporting an Avalanche"
"All you want is a yes or no answer to the question 'Is the slope safe?' Columnist Anna Quindlen has written, 'We are a nation raised on True or False tests.' As far as you can tell, most avalanche questions are answered with 'It depends.'" — Anna Quindlen via Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"What we see often has more to do with what we have seen in the past or what we hope or expect to see than it does with what is staring us in the face." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"Most avalanche accidents happen when the terrain is a red light, the snowpack is a red light, and the skies have cleared, with sparkling green-light weather that entices people into the mountains." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"Familiarity and accessibility, however, inflate the problem by making us complacent. The mountains don’t behave any differently just because they are close to town." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"But we’re destined to lose any waiting game with nature, which has infinitely more time than we do. Thirty years is nothing but a nap in the life of an avalanche path." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"Avalanches are like fish: they tend to run in schools." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"Like Silly Putty, snow can flow and bend into ribbons and folds, and it can also bounce or spring. But when yanked rather than gently stretched, Silly Putty will break. If snow is stressed too much or too rapidly, it also becomes brittle and ruptures into pieces." — Jill Fredston Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches
"Where the water fell clear of the rock icicles hang, thick as a thigh, many feet in length, and sometimes when the wind blows the falling water askew as it freezes, the icicles are squint. I have seen icicles like a scimitar blade in shape, firm and solid in their place. For once, even the wind has been fixed." — Nan Shepherd The Living Mountain
"Women are invited to join the party at base and advanced base to assist in the cooking chores. Special rates are available. They will not be permitted to climb, however. … Women are not strong enough to carry heavy loads. And the high altitude—women aren’t emotionally stable enough to handle it." — Unknown Told to Arlene Blum when she asked to join a Denali expedition
"We click the shutter release, only to have our work instantly become a part of the past—moments frozen in time, just as droplets of water freeze onto a growing icicle." — Nikki Smith
