As Told to Joe Spring
THE SNOWMOBILES PASSED me twice. I was only five feet off the road, but I was in a tree well, where I'd taken shelter under a blanket of branches. Snow from a blizzard the night before camouflaged my tracks.

I had been stranded for eight days. My core temperature had fallen to 88 degrees, I was dehydrated, and I'd lost 35 pounds. No strength to yell.

I had gone cross-country skiing near Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and was going downhill in a meadow. I wasn't moving fast, but I was moving quickly enough to make turning tricky, especially in snow that was rotting under the April sun.

My right ski punched through the crust and locked. There was no audible sound. It just felt like hitting your funny bone. But I pulled up my pant leg and saw the lower bones in my right shin twisted beneath the skin.

I grabbed an herb called arnica that I always carry in my pack to prevent shock, then I took a moment to think. It was Sunday. I had told my neighbor where I would be skiing but not when to expect me back. I had matches, a magnesium bar, a lighter, a whistle, some nuts and dried fruit, two energy bars and some chocolate, a half-full CamelBak, two knives, a hat, four layers of wool clothing and a nonwaterproof shelll with a hood.

I put on all my clothes, then wrapped a knee pad around my broken shin and used my backpack as a splint. I wanted to get off the snow,and there was dry ground back in the meadow, but there would be a better chance of snow-mobile traffic along the road.

From a sitting position, I worked out a crawl using my left leg and right elbow, and about 20 minutes after the fall, I started to move. Two hours and 500 feet later, I saw a deep tree well just off the road. It would soon be dark, and I need shelter. I crawled in and spread some branches on the ground. I drank all my water, then built a fire, which lasted through most of the night. I got cold, but surviviving that first night me confidence.

Then the pain came. My leg muscles cramped and the bones ground together whenever I moved. I tried to build another fire, but I was out of matches, and the plastic lighter melted when I held it down too long trying to light wet leaves. I still had the magnesium bar, but the shavings scattered because I was shivering so badly. I discarded what I had heard about not eating snow, because I needed water. My neighbor was supposed to go out of town on Tuesday. So by Wednesday I realized she hadn't reported me missing.

Over the next few days, I inchwormed more than half a mile. One day I crawled for 13 hours, convincing myself not to give up by thinking of the anguish others would feel if I died. I spent the nights in tree wells, but the shivering made it hard to fall asleep.

My neighbor came home Sunday night and called search and rescue.

When I heard the engines stop the next morning, I blew my whislte three times. I saw someone and waved from beneath the tree. He said, "Are you Charles Horton?" I said, "If I'm not, are you gonna leave me here?"

Expert Analysis: Never go out alone without telling someone where you're going and when you'll be back.

As for supplies, the whistle was key. [see the tip on page 100 for a list of other things you should always take along.]

In those temperatures, it would have been pretty easy for him to use the sun and the supplies he had to melt snow for water. Everyone should learn how to do that. —Sherly Olson, medevac nurse and instructor for Wilderness Medicine (wilderness-medicine.com)