A skiers journey in the Cordillera Real Mountain Range of Bolivia

As I hike, one foot in front of another – the monotonous crunching sound of crampons penetrating frozen snow – my mind, thoughts and breathing transform into a trance-like state of mind. All becomes harmonious. I am on an enormous mountain with endless open space around me. All is focused on each step and the next few feet in front of me. I look up and see two climbers sliding right by me, short-roped to each other, just 350 meters from the summit. The sight is surreal and almost dreamlike as it occurs to me that this is a strange place to be glissading. Then the thought suddenly changes into reality: I am watching two humans fall to their deaths. This is a trip with three friends, going to Bolivia, a far and away exotic ski destination.

We have no objectives, no support from sponsors or magazines, no to-do list, no movie to make, no photo to take. We are just three skiers – Giulia Monego, David Rosenbarger and myself – looking for adventure in mountains unknown to us all. This destination is not very popular on the radar of the skiing world and even less popular when it comes to finding out information about the conditions. The three of us had skied very little together in the past. Our history was basically a run down the North Face of the Aiguille Du Midi and another fun day in Chamonix.

We shared the incredible highs the mountains can give you, their power as a catalyst for strengthening relationships, and making a friend you have known for a very short period seems like a friend you have known forever. But now we are embarking on a three-week journey guaranteed to have its bumps and turns along the way, and guaranteed either to solidify or put a halt to any friendship. The city of La Paz would be our base camp. The world's highest metropolitan city, at 3,900 meters, is situated at the base of several 6,000 meter peaks which dominate the view of 2.3 million inhabitants. Here we would spend our days roaming the streets, acclimating, embracing the culture, and taking care of logistics with the local mountain outfitters.

It was easy to blend in and disappear into the chaos of the city, then head into the mountains for days in search of adventurous ski descents and the tranquility the mountains give us. This was our usual routine, with unexpected hiccups along the way, like the 36-hour bed-ridden battle after eating bad chicken. The three of us only had the energy to go from our beds to the baño. Even making it to the baño wasn't a guarantee. Three weeks into our adventure, after spending most of our time at altitudes between 5,000-6,000 meters, and after several successful ski descents in the Cordillera Real Mountains, we finally felt strong and acclimated. We set our sights on Illimani.

Illimani with its incredible beauty and its dominating view from La Paz has a summit elevation of 6,439 meters. We would be setting our personal records for the highest point and tallest mountain we had ever skied from. 350 meters from the summit and feeling very optimistic about the prospect of a successful descent – the perfect way to finish our trip – our day would take a drastic turn. In disbelief we watched two fallen climbers slide right by us. With no hesitation and few words of communication the three of us started descending the path of the sliding climbers. By some incredible piece of luck the two had fallen into the backside of a crevasse, which stopped them from sliding 1,500 meters to their death.

One climber, save being knocked senseless and incapable of dealing with the situation, had escaped relatively unscathed. The other climber was screaming in agony, as the spikes of her crampon were inches from her face. She had broken both legs, a femur and a tib/fib. Fortunately we saw the accident the split second it happened. Otherwise this lucky girl's fate would have certainly ended in that crevasse. We were able to combine our resources, build a rescue sled, and get her out of the crevasse area, which was an intense, laborious effort. Eventually two climbing guides showed up to help and we safely brought her several hundred meters down the steep and exposed upper mountain to our high base camp.

As the sun was setting, eleven porters from the village below arrived at the camp to help carry her down the rest of the mountain. Twenty-three hours later the victim eventually made it to the hospital. The next day we were back in the chaos of La Paz and made a visit to the hospital. We were happy to see our new friend was doing well and the doctor was optimistic she would make a full recovery. We came to Bolivia looking for adventure, the thrill of an unknown journey into the mountains. We are selfish to the extent that it is our personal ambitions that fuel our drive to climb and ski mountains, to push ourselves to the edge in a high consequence sport.

More than a sport, skiing has molded and shaped our lives, taking us to incredible places, giving us experiences that will be embedded into our minds forever. The friends you make along the way are far from superficial, as you depend on each other in the mountains, and share experiences that can end life faster than you can imagine. Obviously, the experiences can also enrich our lives to a state of ecstasy that most people will never experience. Bolivia was a journey of three skiers that surpassed all expectations and solidified our friendships. Like addicts looking for another fix, we can't wait for the next adventure.