Emma the Brave and I are on the chair lift. Beneath us a snowboarder with relatively novice skill is descending the modest piste . He's riding goofy, his right foot forward. His turns are wide; his speed, reasonable. But he catches his front edge while facing down hill and slams face first into the hard-packed slope. He doesn't move.
A skier stops. She speaks to him. Nothing.
The skier flags down other skiers by waving her poles. Our boarder friend still hasn't moved.
He's wearing a lovely blue wool toque.