From powder queen to ski patrol sled: how one Tucker Mountain wipeout tore Sof's ACL—and what every skier should learn from it.
President’s Day Weekend 2025 started like any other legendary Colorado ski day: fresh “pow,” bluebird vibes, and me—Skier Sof—feeling like the queen of Tucker Mountain. Copper locals know Tucker used to be snowcat- and hike-only, which gave it this mysterious backcountry allure. Now it’s still expert terrain, but with lift access…and on Presidents Day, that means crowded.
But hey, what’s a little crowd when you’re vibing on run #5, skiing powder next to Valentine’s and Boulderado with a good friend, and life feels like a Patagonia commercial?
Spoiler: It all goes downhill. Literally. And painfully.
My friend Ryan and I were shredding through some fantastic powder. We reached the bottom of Boulderado, where you have to cut hard left through a tree trail to avoid looping all the way back to the chair.
Only two sketchy paths go through these trees. You need to keep up the speed, loosen your legs, and blast through bouncing along till you get to the chair.
One dude was sitting in the absolute worst possible spot. Not moving. Not looking around. Not reading the room!
I told Ryan, “Follow me, I’m going now!”
And that’s when the guy—out of nowhere—decides to stand up and slowly drift right into my line without looking uphill.
PSA: ALWAYS look uphill before you move. Don’t be a “Jerry.” Yield to the above skiers. These things matter.
I tried to change my line to the lower track, but visibility was trash: I had my sun lenses on when I should have swapped to snow lenses (don’t get lazy, ladies and gents!). I caught the top of a massive mogul, went flying, landed, but my feet were suddenly two feet apart—never a good sign when skiing trees.
Then came mogul #2.
The left leg slid down it.
The right leg stayed at the top.
My legs did a pretty epic split that nobody asked for.
Cue: the pop of my ACL Fired off like a gunshot (I have the video to prove it). A full tear. I also partially tore my right MCL and my meniscus (just for funsies).
I twisted, flew over the “do not cross” rope (10/10 do not recommend), and slammed into soft powder at the base of a tree. My left ski did NOT release—because my bindings weren’t adjusted after losing weight—and my leg twisted way farther than human legs should.
I screamed like an angry man who just lost a Mill in the stock market. It was not cute.
Ryan came over the hill, saw me lying up with my heat against a tree, panicked, thinking I broke my neck or something like that, whipped off his snowboard, climbed down into the powder, and dug my buried leg out like a heroic golden retriever. “My Hero.” No, seriously, this guy is a great friend, especially since I just ruined his epic ski day.
As I writhed in pain, I told him, “Find the camera,” because naturally that matters more… He found the Insta360.
Another skier—who had literally followed my line earlier went to call ski patrol.
Ski irony is alive and well.
There’s a patrol hut at the top of Tucker, but storms were rolling in, and it took about 45 minutes before they reached me. By then, I’d somehow crawled out of the trees (pain makes you feral) and tried to stand on that leg—nope.
Once the full patrol team arrived, they loaded me into the rescue sled for the hour-long journey to Copper Mountain’s Center Village. There were blizzard-like snow conditions that covered my face in about 5 minutes. It was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. A full team of 5 was needed to get me out of the trees. They snowmobiled me up Copper Bowl and skied me down the front face of the mountain. At least I finally got to go snowmobiling!
Crowds gasped like I was being transported post-avalanche. I could see nothing, and hear a whole lot, so I was desperately hoping no one T-boned the sled while the patrol kept yelling, “MOVE! LOOK UP! ON YOUR LEFT! YIELD!”
It was like being royalty—if royalty were frozen, freaking out, and strapped to a tiny snow coffin. At least the ski patrol guy even kept checking on me to make sure I was still alive.
Urgent Care X-rays said: “Good news, no broken bones!”
MRI later said: “Bad news…everything else is broken.”
Final injury roster:
I stayed in Colorado for a month doing PT and trying to maintain dignity and not slip on the ice with crutches. Eventually, I flew home, got an MRI, and scheduled surgery for April 24.
Surgery went great, but recovery? OOF.
By week six, pain finally chilled out, and the muscle-rebuilding process started. Every tiny improvement felt like winning Olympic gold. Its the little things in life.
Even on expert runs, don’t assume anyone knows what they’re doing, or where they are going. And most likely they do not care about YIELDING!
Hydrate, acclimate, and don’t push your body if you’ve been traveling or skiing hard and are feeling the fatigue from it.
Strong quads save knees. Don’t skip leg day. I repeat: don’t skip leg day.
Take breaks. Take a day off on long trips. Ski easier runs when fatigue kicks in.
Especially in trees, bowls, or sketchy conditions. My friend being there changed everything.
This injury was rough. But it could’ve been so much worse. I’m grateful, healing, and counting the days until I’m back on snow—stronger, smarter, and maybe a little sassier.
At The Travel Brats, we believe travel isn’t just beaches and cocktails—it’s wipeouts, lessons learned, and stories that make you laugh later (like… much later).
My ACL tear was painful, expensive, and humbling. But it taught me how resilient the human body (and spirit!) can be. And when I finally click back into my skis, I’ll be ready—with sharpened edges, proper goggles, adjusted bindings, and a whole lot more patience for the unpredictable humans around me.
Until then…
Stay safe, stay adventurous, and ski smart, Brats. ❄️❤️⛷️