In North America, it is widely believed that skiing is safe within ski area boundaries, but recent events in Palisades Tahoe, where three skiers were injured and one person died following an avalanche, show once again that this is not so. always situation.
In January 2020, I was buried in an avalanche 2.8 m (9.2 ft) deep for an hour in Idaho; This is the kind of funeral that is impossible to survive. But somehow I’m still here. I tell people: “You never want to be me.” Whether on site or off piste, you never want to get caught in an avalanche, or even get caught without your equipment.
Recent events have reinforced my opinion that skiers in America need to have a more European attitude and wear avalanche safety equipment to be adequately prepared for disasters on the slopes (like what happened to me), no matter where you plan to ski. The reality is that despite the heroic efforts of ski patrols, the risk remains. Mother Nature does not recognize “intra-border”, “side country” or “countryside” and will have her way, so we need to have more respect and change the way we look at mountains. They are not amusement parks.
Profit blind to risks
On January 7, 2020, my friend Rebecca and I planned to ski at a small area in Idaho called Silver Mountain. Since the topography is soft, there is no avalanche danger and I knew this very well. Excitement was high when Rebecca and I set off.
I worked as a ski patroller at Stevens Pass, a mountain in the United States with high avalanche activity, and I also worked as a ski instructor and industry representative; In short, I know snow. So I should have known better than to jump into the first big storm of the year without knowing how snowpack forms in Silver that winter. But the skiing was so phenomenal I couldn’t wait. You could say I’m snow blind.
That morning, the tracks were completely covered in dust, but after an hour there were no signs of instability, so we joined a group heading past Wardner Peak to a designated area that had just been opened for the first time that season. We passed a bomb crater – evidence that avalanche prevention work was being done – and I said to Rebecca: “He should be comfortable with the patrol.”
But when Rebecca turned her skis downhill, the entire track began to move. The plate around me was breaking free; The snow wasn’t moving fast, but it was deep and had me lying on my side. It was like in the 3rd grade I slid downhill quickly, one moment my head was on the surface, the next my head was at the bottom, then I was back up again. I was on my side for about 183 meters (600 ft) before resting, everything intact, even my skis were in a small bowl with no exit.
It was a deadly terrain trap, and the avalanche was still falling: no matter what I did, I knew there was no escape. The snow that followed me piled up on my head.
buried alive
This wasn’t my first funeral, so when the snow stopped and I could see the light I knew I wasn’t deep. But only 10 cm (4 inches) of mud (dry, powdery snow) is like cement. I could hear Rebecca screaming for me and somehow I managed to move my hand and create a hole in the surface. I shouted that I was fine too, but as I lay there trying to stay calm, a second slide opened.
We all know that if the first one doesn’t kill you, the second one will.
As the snow slid over me and my world grew darker, I said to myself: “I am a dead man.” Everything stopped and a crushing weight fell on me; If I hadn’t been lying on my side, the snow would have suffocated me, but my ribcage was protecting my lungs.
When everything went quiet I could only move my eyelashes and my toes. Some quick calculations told me I was in no survivable condition.
Statistically unviable
According to statistics, 93 percent of avalanche victims can be rescued alive if dug out within the first 15 minutes, but after that the number drops catastrophically. After 45 minutes, the chance of survival is only 20 to 30 percent. I was buried for an hour.
I still had all my gear; There was no hat, no gloves, and no evidence of poles to direct searchers to me. I had no airbag and most importantly no beacon (transceiver) because we were skiing in the field. I didn’t even have a bag with a shovel and probe in it. The only person who knew where I was was Rebecca, and I had no idea if Rebecca was buried under the snow too.
Being buried alive is an indescribably terrible thing. This memory comes to mind even now, four years later. I tried to control my breathing to preserve as much air as I could – it was impossible – but as time flowed in a distorted way, I thought of my wife and family and screamed. I knew it was futile and a waste of oxygen, but there is terror, and there is uncontrolled terror. I wished with all my being that I would pass out and this ordeal would be over.
In the early stages of hypothermia, I started to feel warm and comfortable, but then I felt something touching my hip. I knew it was a probe, but then nothing happened. I was convinced they missed me. But gradually the pressure on my body decreased, the light was changing, I could hear noise and feel the vibrations of the pickaxe. I started screaming again and was still screaming after they exposed me.
There were about 40 people searching the hill, and I was found by Joan, Silver Mountain’s 70-year-old part-time ski patroller. I was 2.8 m (9.2 ft) down and he found me using a 3 m (10 ft) long electrical conduit he was given as a makeshift probe for the search. She saved me she; commercial avalanche probes are only 2.3 m (7.5 ft).
Post
Seven of us were captured at Silver Mountain that day. Five were completely buried and three died.
Rebecca was carried 6–9 m (20–30 ft) downhill and buried chest to chest. He dug himself in with his bare hands; He didn’t have a backpack or catheter. No one noticed that Molly, one of the three dead, was missing until the next morning when they found her car still in the parking lot. Molly was found more than two days later under at least 6 meters (20 ft) of snow.
I was told that everything was fine physically after the avalanche, but I was warned to expect “some PTSD.” And the trauma still remains. While I was buried, I clenched my jaw so much that I broke my teeth; I lost a molar and my other teeth continue to fall out one by one. People ask when the reality of what happened came out, but even now it is still coming out. You don’t expect to survive.
Would it be a different scenario if we had avalanche equipment? Probably.
Live to ski another day
Now, when I see others in the mountains making crazy decisions — skiers skiing off-piste or even near pistes in Europe, or without avalanche equipment in the backcountry of North America — I want to scream. I am the bridge between the survivors and the dead; After what I went through, I have a responsibility to educate and raise awareness.
We need a more open dialogue between those trying to create a safe riding experience and those using the mountain. For example, it’s great that Brighton Resort in Utah is currently only open to skiers with avalanche equipment after a week-long storm cycle. But I fear that liability issues at resorts, which are legally obliged to ensure that all areas designated as open on-site are safe for skiing, will not allow these conversations to develop.
Like me, and like many of my friends who were caught or killed in avalanches before me, you may have all the avalanche training and experience in the world, but ultimately all you can do is avoid an avalanche at all costs. Live to ski another day: Have the courage to take the safer route, walk away if necessary. Make the decisions that will allow you to ski again. Believe me, you don’t want to be me.
As told to Abigail Butcher
Rules, regulations and best practices differ on both sides of the Atlantic
North America
Everything within the boundaries of the “intra-boundary ski” resort is “snow safe” – avalanche patrol and steady snow. It is expected that some areas will be roped off, especially after a storm or if the snow cover is thin. This doesn’t mean the double black diamond is safe for beginners, but it does mean there’s no need to wear avalanche beacons and a carry kit. Facility owners are responsible for the safety of skiers in the field, except for collisions.
In the US and Canada, “off piste”, confusingly to Europeans, means off marked trails but within resort boundaries and is still considered “safe”. Facility owners are responsible for the safety of skiers in these areas, except for collisions.
“Back country” (also called side country/loose country) means outside the designated resort boundaries. Skiers accessed through gates are responsible for their own safety. Avalanche beacons, kit and mountain guides are not legally required, but skiing without them is foolishness.
The “ski patrol” operates only within the facility boundaries, ensuring snow safety and responding to accidents. If something goes wrong in the backcountry, skiers rely on the good will of the resort’s ski patrol and/or local volunteers/rescue services, which varies from state to state.
Europe
“On piste” means groomed, surrounding snow that is safe for skiers traveling within piste markings. There is no need to wear avalanche beacons and carry a rescue kit. Apart from collisions, resorts are responsible for the safety of skiers.
“Off-piste” is the area outside the marked pistes, where the skier assumes the risk, even if only 1 meter from the piste. Avalanche beacons, kit and mountain guides are not legally required, but it is foolish to ski off piste without them.
“Back country” is an American term increasingly used in Europe, and is used by Europeans to describe off-piste areas further away from the facility. The same rules apply for off-piste skier liability.
The “ski patrol” operates within the resort to ensure snow safety and respond to on-piste accidents, as well as in off-piste areas within the ski area. Mountain rescue/helicopter services are available for accidents and emergencies far from the facility boundaries.
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