happened to me this morning and i thought i was gonna lose my fucking mind... actually i did, multiple times, screaming, cussing, stomping around like a little bitch, giving up, and then realizing i had no choice but to keep looking. i was so pissed i even contemplated burying my other ski, that way when the snow melts and someone found it at least they'd have a pair instead of one.
looked for close to 2 hours only to find it had run away 25-30 yards downhill... some asshole sprays me on his way down and then eats shit from running into my ski, way the fuck down from the crash zone.
probably the most enjoyable and relieving moment of poetic justice i've had in my lifetime
seriously though, skis can be sneaky little bitches on pow days; you think your brakes are gonna stop em but noooo, they'll submarine and haul ass under the surface with no drag until they hit something to stop. before my episode of pure dumb luck i was gonna go down and try to do the same thing, but i'm in japan and would have better luck winning the lotto then trying to explain 'metal detector' to someone who speaks no english.
after the whole ordeal i went straight to the shop and bought some of these (not my skis but you get the point)
kind of annoying to tuck into your pant cuff whenever you put your skis on, but well worth it if it saves you from losing your shit.
if i were you i would go back to the spot and start zig-zag traversing way lower than where you originally thought they would be. if you have a metal detector, even better, just keep in mind how far downhill they might have actually gone.
good luck man