OUTDOORSCAPITAL CITY WEEKLY It was one of those situations that happened too quickly to tease out the split-second of fright leading up to it from the utter confusion of the scene. I was dumped on my butt into a patch of bare, muddy ground, my legs and skis splayed in front of me. It took at least 30 seconds of just sitting, trying to grasp what had just happened, before I looked around. The confusion grew as I looked to my right. Two of my seat partners, free-skiing extraordinaire Ingrid Backstrom and photographer Adam Clark, also sat in the mud, equally dazed, the empty quad chair that had just deposited us halted above our heads. We were in Chile, in the mud. How did I get here? How did I get down here?