Spring had come to the Colorado Rockies, and this morning was especially inviting as the three of them set out on a cross-country skiing expedition. Each had rich experience in the sport, both downhill and cross-country.
Before it was over, it would become a life-changing day for Alethea "Lee" Pell, now a member of SLO Village.
Her companions were her roommate, Lynda, and Lynda's boyfriend.
Rather than being bundled in winter's layers, they wore T-shirts and vests and carried a bit of wine and cheese. The snowmelt was under way, and the bears had emerged from their dens. They trekked along at 12,000 feet -- high above Vail, 4,000 feet below.
But the unforgiving mountains had one more blast to deliver. Ominous clouds swept in, and it grew darker. Even as the snow melted under their skis, fresh snow fell on them, covering up familiar trails.
The boyfriend said they should hurry to get down. He ran ahead of the women, and they would not see him again that day.
Then, AVALANCHE. The surface fell away from Lee's skis, and in an instant she was buried waist deep in snow that rapidly turned to ice, encasing her in a body cast. Faced with the onset of darkness and in now unseasonable clothes, Lynda worked frantically to dig Lee out, using the only implements she had: her hands, her skis and her ski poles.
It took three hours.
Free, but freezing cold, hungry and exhausted, Lee and her rescuer began the journey back to Vail. They wandered around. It was dark. The trails had been covered over. At one point, they had to double back, all the while seeing the ribbon of lights from I-70 traffic below the steep cliffs.
More than once, Lee pleaded to stop and rest. Lynda would not relent. "You can’t lie down; you’ll die, "she said.
Lee recalled, “She saved my life. I would have given up.”
They made it home. It was 2:30 a.m., 17 hours after they had started off. They soaked in the tub to warm up. And slept. Until paramedics awakened them at 5:30. They were part of a rescue team that had failed to find the women and were taking one last chance that they might be home.
The immediate damage became evident by morning. Torn ligaments and tendons, a swollen kneecap. She lost nerve endings in her fingers. Lee was off her job in the kitchen at a Vail restaurant for most of two weeks. Eventually her back would fail her on three occasions. Walking became painful.
Despite the challenges, she became a high-hat chef, largely self-taught, a career she loved until she couldn’t do it anymore.
Born on the grounds of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., Lee was the seventh and final child of a career Army officer and his devoted wife, a teacher after the children were grown. Her father taught map reading and geographic strategy at the academy. Lee remembers the music from the bands that played on ceremonial Saturdays or Sundays and the tasseled hat her father wore on those occasions. Her siblings were all born at two-year intervals, and the family joked that they were conceived when dad came home on leave. Lee, the exception, came along five years after baby six.
While the others sometimes moved to new posts with their father, including to Japan, Lee was too young and too late to become an "Army brat."" Her father retired and settled the family in Rutherford, New Jersey, where Lee grew up and went to school.
After graduation, she was working in the office of the electric utility when a friend who worked at a local Howard Johnson restaurant asked her if she would like to work nights to help her out. Lee jumped at the chance, and that little job turned out to be the launch of her life’s work, running kitchens.
"It was so much fun,"" Lee said.
She moved to Colorado and took a job making salads and cutting vegetables. After the chef was fired, she moved up. She was on her way to becoming "Chef Lee." A newspaper review raved about her crab and shrimp enchilada.
After six years, she moved to the Central Coast, working at D.W. Grover’s in Pismo Beach and later at Nothing But the Best Deli in San Luis Obispo, where her ribs at
Farmers Market won both the judge's award and the public’s award for two years running. For three years, she managed the Waystation Restaurant in Cayucos, where she met her husband, who "taught me the art of eggs and omelets."
Over the years, she has had her challenges in the kitchens she’s supervised. “Men don't like women in the kitchen. Some weren’t going to take orders from a woman,” she said. "I once had a man throw a knife at me."
"Some people were blown away when I was asked to take over,” she said, “One man thought he should have had the job."
In 1997, she joined the staff at Cal Poly, first as a breakfast cook. But her wider talents were soon recognized, and she was offered the job as manager of the brand-new Campus Market. “I created the recipes and menus and trained and supervised 20 students a day,” she said. Together, Chef Lee and the staff produced all of the hot food served at the market.
"I had so much fun teaching," Lee said. Always the chef, she wore the uniform: the chef’s shirt, black-and-white checkered pants, the chef’s coat and the white hat. The taller the cap, the more important the chef. And yes, she wore “a big tall hat.”
"I still miss that job. I cried not being able to go back."
Chef Lee retired in 2004. The skiing injuries had caught up with her. Today, she lives in San Luis Obispo, and yes, cooks for herself. "I eat pretty plain," she said. Chicken and roasted veggies. Every once in a while, she’ll do a white wine sauce.
She does watch the food shows on TV. Rachael Ray is her favorite because Lee likes the way Ray talks, "plain and simple, like I do."
Lee has found SLO Village to be "a godsend."
After surgery and pain management, she felt isolated. The Village, she said, “opened up my world again. I am enjoying life again.”
She looks forward to the day when the COVID-19-imposed isolation ends and members and volunteers can again meet in person. She would like to provide the food on some of those future occasions, because, "It makes me happy."
Lee and Lynda have remained close friends over the years. "We happily laugh about that night on Vail Pass," Lee said.
Does she have nightmares about that day on the mountain? Yes. Being trapped in the ice at the mercy of hungry bears.
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