3 Attachment(s)
First person avy account, lessons learned.
This is old news by this point, as this event occurred in April 2011, but anyway, a few lessons in this story. One is a confirmation of the importance of human factors in decision making, as per much of the current avalanche research and data. The other is my experience of being in a slide.
We were skiing at Kootenay Pass, B.C., late season. Four skiers, an experienced group. Two are former ski patrol directors, one of them teaches backcountry avalanche courses, the other has his ski guide ticket. I've got many years of touring in myself. So, really, no shortage of experience here, ie. no excuses.
We skied north aspects most of the day, including two runs down a clearly potentially dangerous slope. (see first attached photo, from another day.) We skied this slope very carefully and cautiously, without incident. In retrospect, having got out of there safe and sound, I think that, perhaps, we subsequently had our collective guard down.
Later in the day we were exiting on east facing slopes. There were numerous indicators that this was a very different snowpack, including:
-These slopes had been in warm sun all morning long.
-There was a decent sized cornice overhanging the slope.
-The snow was heavier and denser by feel.
-One of our party launched off the cornice and stopped just about dead on landing, because the snow was so much denser. That in itself should have given us pause. Then another one of our party traversed above him to retrieve his pole and released a very small slab that just oozed down around the cornice hucker. And all we did was laugh. A lot. Yeah, I know. But at the time... well, it was funny.
Anyway, as you can see, the slope looked very benign- second and third attachments below. Not steep, lots of trees, and small glades. And so, in spite of the aforementioned indicators, and fueled by our jocular late day mood, we jumped in. I made one turn over a subtle roll over and the small glade/bowl released. I tried to ski out to my right but the fracture propogated that way and the whole bowl went.
Everything I'd ever read about what to do in a slide went out the window and I acted completely on instinct. I was not thinking about anything like dropping poles, releasing skis, swimming motions, any of that. My first thought was "Those trees are coming at me really fucking fast." That is literally how it seemed- me stationary, and the trees coming uphill towards me. I was sideways and didn't relish hitting those trees like that, and so I got my feet below me. I hit the first tree hard enough to crush a DPS Wailer and break a dynafit toepiece. I saved my ribs and spleen, but tweaked my knee and got flipped upside down by the impact. Now I'm heading downhill, headfirst and on my back, under the slide snow and into the next set of trees. All I could think of was a) hitting the trees head first and b) being buried in this position and how long it might take them to get my head uncovered. So I did a back roll, ended up in a sitting position, and popped out. I finished waist deep in loose debris- easily self-extricated.
You can see the tree I hit in the center, and me amidst the debris below. The slide carried down about 600 vertical feet through the trees below me- it would have been nasty to have been rinsed through there.
Lessons.
1) Don't let your mood affect your decision making.
2) Stop and assess different slope aspects carefully.
3) Don't underestimate benign looking slopes and small glades.
4) Trees become the enemy in a hurry.
5) Some people stay calm and remember what they have learned in a stressful situation. I am not one of those people. I agree that it is likely 'genetic', as others have said elsewhere.
6) Experience can sometimes lead to increased risk.
