For Max Kuszaj, the images of that day will never go away.

One moment, he was hurtling down a perilous backcountry line that was too steep to stop on.

The next, the former Western State College student was skiing off a 400-foot cliff and into a free fall, tumbling past plunging walls and jagged ledges toward a bloody ending.

Until he released a parachute.

For those who enjoy tiptoeing along the edge, nothing compares with the buzz of skiing off a mountain the first time at full speed.

Called ski-BASE jumping, it combines two extreme activities, free skiing and BASE jumping, into one dangerous, endorphin-releasing package.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, true believers such as Kuszaj lose their balance, in every sense of the word.

"We're comfortable with what we do," said Kuszaj, who knows of about a dozen other ski-BASE jumpers. "We have big-skiing and BASE-jumping backgrounds. But when you step back and assess it, it's pretty intense."

No kidding.

Ski-BASE jumping was only a fantasy when Roger Moore, portraying James Bond (actually, it was stunt double Rick Sylvester), escaped during the opening sequence of The Spy Who Loved Me in 1977 by schussing off a precipice while using a chute.

A quarter-century or so later, former University of Colorado student Shane McConkey duplicated Bond's stunt, pioneering a new outlet for a dozen or so incorrigible daredevils.

McConkey hardly is the only Coloradan willing to test Newtonian physics on skis. After all, the Rocky Mountain states are a magnet for ski-BASE jumpers.

Former Fort Lewis College student Matthias Giraud sailed off Engineer Mountain near Durango before heading off to Oregon, where he ski-BASE jumped off Mount Hood.

Niwot native Jesse Hall was part of a group that made the first urban ski-BASE jump, joining McConkey on the 39th floor of the Silver Legacy Resort Casino in Reno.

"Ski-BASE jumping is one of the most technical and extreme sports around," said Troy Widgery, chief executive officer of Go Fast Sports.

It certainly isn't easy work.

For a jump off Hellgate Cliffs near Utah's Alta ski area, Kuszaj first had to hike 11/2 hours up rocky terrain, then rappel 100 feet down to a hanging snowfield. His first fear: an avalanche. His second: slipping and falling as he skied down the runway, a quick route to death.

So he and his crew worked overtime to create a smooth slope, moving around snow, packing it down, searching for concealed rocks that might trip him up. He checked and rechecked the wind.

"We're meticulous," he said.

But what if the chute doesn't open, or opens awkwardly, tossing him against a cliff? What if his skis and chute become entangled? Or a gust of wind turns him upside down, sending him into a headfirst landing?

Kuszaj wasn't thinking that far ahead; a more immediate concern was working up enough speed on the runway to launch a successful jump.

"You're skiing for 10 seconds before you go off the cliff. Not only are you skiing, but you're worrying about getting as much speed as possible to get as far away from the cliff as fast as possible," he said. "Getting three-quarters of the way out is not an option. They'd be picking you up in multiple bags.

"You can't slow down. You can't stop. Speed is your friend. Sometimes we go 45 to 50 mph so we can clear the garbage. You're out there 100 feet before you reach the sheer part of the cliff."

At that point, Kuszaj is like any BASE jumper - except for his skis, which increase the risk factor. He tries to keep things simple.

"There are so many different factors - the weight of the skis, length of the skis, the snow conditions," he said. "You want to be in the same position you are when you're skiing."

One time, Kuszaj's parachute opened in the wrong direction, pulling him into a cliff wall and leaving him with bloody arms that required 30 stitches.

"I couldn't control my parachute. I immediately hit the cliff, bounced off the cliff and turned the parachute around," he said. "I lucked out. And I always wear a helmet.

"You go into a kind of survival mode. You don't think, 'die'; you think, 'How am I going to get out of this?' You can't panic; if you panic and don't know what to do, your canopy can collapse and slide down the wall."

Added Kuszaj: "I know guys who have passed from skiing and BASE jumping over the years. Ten of 'em. But no fatalities from ski-BASE jumping."

His close call didn't discourage Kuszaj, who remains hooked on flight.

"We all want to fly. That's the big thing, isn't it?" he said. "I've had the Wile E. Coyote dream, where the parachute doesn't open and you bounce off the ground. But in the dream, I wipe myself off, act like no one saw me and walk away."

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