I remember darkness.
Assembling in the early morning
darkness
The straining light of a single bare bulb hanging inadequately in the midst of snow flake muffled murmurs. casting shadows of ski tails resting on a bare dirt floor.
Waiting in head down darkness, observing shadows.
Waiting to enter the red painted gondola that will take self assembled groups to the summit. There, the first gray of dawn offered only enough distinction to choose a route . A route down through bottomless white that brought again darkness. Darkness again, over and over and over with every porpoised turn, while filling nostrils, mouth and throat with icy cold. The darkness of the white room.
A darkness to return to, "succumb to" may be more to the point.
A memory
The "Milk Run"