Mathew’s team redirected immediately, cutting across a steep ravine to intercept the path toward Black Slate Ridge. The wind was picking up now, turning the snow into a horizontal curtain that stung their eyes. Visibility was down to less than ten feet. They moved in a tight line, holding onto each other’s belts so as not to get separated in the whiteout.
“We have to turn back, Mathew!” one of the neighbors shouted over the gale. “We can’t see the edges of the cliffs anymore! It’s suicide!” Mathew turned, his face a mask of frost and fury. He wouldn’t turn back. He couldn’t. “My son is out here!” he screamed back. “If I turn back, I’m leaving him to die!”