In his debut full-length book, The Way Out, Devon O’Neil shares a story of backcountry tragedy and how the loss rocked Salida, Colorado, a small town tucked between the Arkansas River and Rocky Mountains whose community will resonate with anyone who has lived in or spent time in a mountain town.
The book opens on a hut trip with three fathers and their teenage children. Dynamics unfold on the skintrack in. Miscommunications, expert halos and unaligned expectations emerge before the group even goes to sleep on their first night in Uncle Bud’s Hut. While teenager Cole is there to reconnect with his father and sister after the death of his mother, Brett Beasley is questioning aging on the eve of his 47th birthday. The next morning, driven by powder and a ticking clock, Brett takes Cole out for a run that leaves them stranded in a remote gulch for 30 hours.
As a winter storm roles in, Brett’s daughter and Cole’s family wait with the rest of their party at Uncle Bud’s Hut and a mix of amateur and professional rescuers are called in. O’Neil goes deep into each search party member’s backstory and motivation, adding to his vivid picture of the Salida community, including Brett’s wife and daughters, coworkers and friends. While the large cast of characters could blend together at times, O’Neil sprinkles reminders throughout the story of who they are and why they’re important. The more I read, the more I wondered if I’d met these people before, perhaps while listening to the Grateful Dead in Brett’s backyard.
As a decadelong resident of the Teton Range, most famous as the gateway to Yellowstone National Park and home of Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, I recognized my own community and found myself thinking deeper about what sets us apart from other small towns in America: the constant tourism, the desirability driving up prices, the beautiful-yet-dangerous mountains above us and, most importantly, how tight knit that can make a group of people. If you live in a mountain town like me, you’ll feel right at home. If you’re a skier who takes regular trips to places like Jackson, Crested Butte, Tahoe or any other ski destination, The Way Out will give you a deeper appreciation for the fulltime residents playing host to your vacation.
With this care spent on crafting the narrative around people, it’s no surprise that the accident analysis is well written and thoughtful. The Way Out shares what went wrong with lessons learned that are relatable, not judgmental. O’Neil goes as far as telling his own near miss, and the psychological toll it took on him, to show how easy it is to put yourself in harm’s way while backcountry skiing.
The first chapter might read slow for the average skier as O’Neil offers explanations on backcountry touring for the non-skier audience. But hold out. The book is quick to pick up. Throughout the 288 pages, I became deeply invested in both Brett and Cole’s story and the Salida community. I smiled, I cried, and I took note of lessons that I’ll bring into the backcountry. As winter gets off to a slow start in much of the Mountain West, The Way Out is a reminder to slow down in the face of scarcity and a call to hold compassion and understanding for those who don’t.
Pick up your copy of The Way Out here.
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