Indiana Andrushenko and the Snowblind Pass - A Dramatic Continuation

Be sure to first read the opening segment of the story of the snowblind pass before continuing here.

..he didn't think he could possibly go on and began to plot his route back out of this frigid notch.

Yet as this played through his head he eventually got back to the start where he would have to explain his failure. No, this was his only opportunity, he resolved and he could not stand to have wasted so much time only to give up and turn back. Thus he pushed on, breaking the remaining distance into small, more manageable chunks as the entire climb looked too daunting as a whole. Ever so slowly he plodded, settling upon a methodical but slow strategy to avoid his body sinking by step as it seemed to do without warning - sometimes one in 5 paces but then other times five paces in a row, only his crotch preventing him from plunging further. This method was to stomp to create a platform, pause then push off of the platform. It wasn't foolproof, as the platform could still give way and he'd end up freeing his leg only by pushing out with his frozen hands, but it seemed to reduce the frequency of this. Surely he made progress to the next junction and the clouds even parted to briefly warm his head and light the path of previous snowslides that had petered out in the valley around him.

Judging to be approximately halfway up the snowy pass, although this could not be verified for the very top was still obscured from view (and he retained blind faith that it would be passable) Indy stopped for lunch. As if destined the sun also showed itself for the first sustained time since base level. As he munched his outlook grew cheerier and though there was still plenty of snow to cover he began to think he might just be able to do it. Then he heard it - a rumble that seemed to be all around him. Searching the cliff tops nearby he vainly attempted to identify the source but all looked still. Just to his side a few snowballs rolled down serenely, no doubt loosened by the warmth of the persistent sun but definitely not creating that gut-tightening noise. With a sick feeling he turned to look at the cliffs directly above where he was sat, wary that a rush of snow could be hurtling toward him from an unidentified source, ready to wash him from his perch and down the rocky edge he'd carefully climbed to get there. It was beyond the top and from behind a cloud that the source finally presented itself as a jet plane cruised overhead. With a sigh of relief he packed his lunch and began moving on again.

The film version of this adventure would show a montage of young Indiana toiling in the white, slipping repeatedly and stopping often to catch his breath and survey his ever-slowing progress. Not until practically to the end of the visible route up did the top present itself and though it looked reasonable what lay beyond was anybody's guess. The final metres took ages with dead tired, frozen legs lifting sopping wet boots methodically one after the other. Finally he reached what looked to be a massive snow drift and when he stood upon it and peered into the unknown he went snow blind. All he could see was grey and all he could think as the minutes passed was how it had taken him nearly seven hours to reach this point and now there was no going forward and no going back.

Still stood at the summit in an instant the foggy cloud that has encompassed him passed to reveal a glorious scene. As far as the eye could see the the snow spread away down a narrowing chute, and to Indiana's supreme pleasure it was at a degree he could manage on foot. Taking it all in only long enough to compose a plan of attack, attack he did! The sun had come out to play and so had he so his quick steps soon became step and leap, and step and leap. This would last until a leg got trapped in the snow behind him leaving him awkwardly splayed in snowy splits with a dumb grin on his face. This was well and good until both legs were momentarily trapped before letting go sending him hurtling forward where he managed to turn his back just before impact to skid on his shoulders and pack. A minute later though he let his guard down and the same happened without the turn resulting in an ice pellet face plant.

As the pitch and the composition of snow changed so did his approach. A cross country ski style resulted in something like stunted skiing, while a tuck such that he was nearly seated on his heels almost worked as a slide. What did work on the properly packed spots was succumbing to the inevitability that he would be fully soaked and sitting with his legs rigid straight out in front of him. If he caught it right these served remarkably well as a toboggan where he would gather speed until he slammed into an accumulated snow boulder from a previous snowslide, or his sore leg muscles cramped and he could no longer retain rigidity. Actually there was one other instance where he bailed from a slide, this was after a very long distance indeed when he noticed the snow around him accumulating and could not see what was to come over the next hump. It was reminiscent of the boulder landslide in the Zoodochos Pigi adventure as he dug his heels in to pull up just in time to watch as the snow around him plummeted over the edge.

Progress, he noted with delight, was significantly better than climbing up the other side, naturally. As the sun continued to shine he continued plodding downwards, sliding wherever possible. Eventually the snow thinned and rocks began to show through again until finally it was no more. On a rock in the mostly dry mountain stream bed he seated himself to soak in the rays to his soaking garments and eat what remained of his snacks. It was during this break that he made two significant discoveries. The first was that he was way off course, nowhere near actually. The second was that everything in his pack was drenched. With his only clean undergarments dangling off him to dry, he carried on a mostly unmentionable route carefully lowering himself down the crumbly and slick when wet (most everywhere) limestone riverbed. When he deemed it appropriate Indy cut into the mossy forest which eventually let out into a glorious meadow on the other side. The only activity of interest between the sun disappearing beyond the next mountain ridge (but before actual sunset) and when he arrived at his prize was nearly stepping upon a coiled venomous snake. Indiana hates snakes.