POACHER’S LAST RUN
By Jim Sweeney
TNews Contributor
The helicopter hovers eighty to hundred feet above the valley floor creating a tornado of snow. Each time it tries to land, it is engulfed in white, so that the pilot has to pull back to see.
The helicopter is small, with a blue bottom, a white top and an Alaska State Trooper badge on its side.
The helicopter flies off, circles once and comes back for another try. No cigar this time, either. The obnoxious bird takes off on another loop and this time slows down as it flies over. The garble from the helicopter’s loudspeaker is swallowed by rotor wash but Mark Norquist and Matt Howard get the message. It’s too dark and there is too much snow flying around for the helicopter to land.
Dave "The Poacher" Pettry will spend the night of March 14 next to Tincan Creek.
Matt straightens Poacher's stiff arm next to his body thinking about the recovery while Mark retrieves Poacher’s skis and gear from next to the unused landing zone, freshly packed out for the helicopter. He stands his skis next to the snow bed where Poacher lays. His poles lie next to him. Mark looks around, he doesn’t want to leave Poacher here. He loves Poacher. They ski twice a week together. But Matt is hungry, thirsty and wants to let his wife know he’s okay and is already breaking trail on the long traverse towards the Seward Highway. A little less than quarter of a moon is pasted to the sky above Turnagain Pass and stars start poking through the cobalt blue.
Dave ‘the Poacher’ Pettry on March 14 with friends Matt Howard, Mark Norquist, Dave Brailey and Ryan Taylor on Tincan Mountain. (Photo by Doug White)
There is no way for Mark and Matt to spend the night with Poacher. They’d just freeze. It’s been four hours since Poacher died. Mark is lucky that he and Poacher hooked up with Matt today, otherwise Mark would be alone right now.
Matt is 18 years younger than the 71-year-old Poacher and fifteen years younger than Mark. They thought it would be smart to ski with Matt because then they’d have a young buck to break trail.
Matt’s value increased the moment Poacher died. He’s been here before. When Steve Garvey died with him rock climbing in Portage Valley, he had to leave Steve's body to notify the authorities. Matt knows the game and his patience and caring nature helped Mark make decisions.
The contradictions are many for Matt. It had been a beautiful day. He got to ski with a legend of backcountry skiing. He was with Poacher on his last run. Poacher’s last words were spoken to Matt. Garvey’s death was violent but Poacher's last run and passing was the opposite and Matt was honored to be there.
After the trio's first run, they climb back up for another. On top of Tincan peak, they hook up with Dave Brailey and Ryan Taylor. There is no wind. Bluebird would be the best word to describe the day. They have a safety meeting while peering down at fresh powder descents. It’s four o’clock. The snow is sparkly. Their first run had been excellent. Poach keeps up a dialogue of history, humor and ski bumness while on top. Brailey and Taylor disappear down the west side and Matt leads Poacher and Norquist down the south side.
‘Poacher’ and friends on a Trip to Battle Abbey in British Columbia. (Photo by Leah Evans)
Matt lives for days like this. He has forty days in the backcountry this year. He skis down effortlessly. He stops above Tincan Creek, in what Poacher calls the Snake Pit. He turns around and faces uphill so he can watch Poach and Mark ski down. He takes out his phone and waits.
Poacher has an unmistakable style. He skis telemark and always has. He tap dances his way down the mountain with Fred Astaire grace. The mountains smile on him. Matt keeps his camera is trained him.
Poacher skis the thousand foot run non-stop. Watching him ski, you wouldn’t have a clue about the passing out and fainting spells. He says he went to the doctor about his conditions and the doctor gave him medicine, but he quit taking that and says that proper hydration was the key to controlling these occasional issues.
Poacher wears a grey bandana with black and white designs over his head. He has a brown jacket and light colored pants. Poacher has a hundred days of backcountry skiing so far this winter. It seems impossible that anyone could ski this many days or even half that many. He's been getting this many ski days in for forty years.
Matt watches Poacher ski impeccably towards him. He faces downhill always, his poles and boots go slightly up and down but his body is silent. He’s smiling. He hits the flats and plops down. I’m passing out, he says. Matt takes off his skis then Poacher’s. He lays Poacher down and cradles his head in his lap. His breathing is erratic and after five or six breaths that keep getting weaker and farther apart, he quits breathing. Matt tries CPR but it’s hopeless because he’s up to his waist in deep snow. When he tries chest compressions Poacher just sinks in the snow.
Matt looks uphill for Mark. It's been five minutes. Mark has a broken heel piece on his binding and is being careful. Finally, he appears on the slope above. It feels like forever and then he’s next to Matt. Mark thinks Poacher has passed out and will be up and better soon. It has happened before.
Then Matt tells Mark, "he’s not breathing."
They try CPR together, but it’s useless. Poacher has no pulse and is not breathing. They accept that Dave Pettry, the Poacher, has passed.
Time: 4:20 p.m.
Diamonds in the snow swirled around Matt's skis and boots as he breaks trail on the long traverse back to the west side of Tincan Mountain. He‘s on a mission to get safely back to the road and his truck. He needs to call his wife and let her know he’s okay. The quarter moon lights the way. Mark breaks trail for a while. Just a little further they take off their skins and it’s downhill to the flats before the highway.
They reach the road at 10 p.m. A truck with its headlights on waits in the pullout. It’s Jordan Rymer, a law enforcement officer with the U.S. Forest Service. Jordan interviews them for a half an hour. Matt and Mark get home to Anchorage. 11:30 p.m.
Dave Pettry, the Poacher, deceased, earned his moniker after sneaking in on a ski run during filming of a ski movie by Greg Stump called “License to Thrill.”
Poacher famously justified the incident.
“We don’t call it poaching up there in Alaska, we call it skiing,” he said.
Poacher’s body was recovered the following day on March 15.