Snow blindfolding against risks
On January 7, 2020, my friend Rebecca and I were scheduled to go skiing in a small area in Idaho called Silver Mountain. I understand that avalanches are less likely to occur because the terrain is gentle. So when Rebecca and I set off, the excitement was high.
I have worked as a ski patroller at Stevens Pass, a mountain in the United States with high avalanche activity, and have also worked as a ski instructor and industry representative. I mean, I know snow. So I should have known better than to jump into the first big storm of the year without knowing how snow formed on Silver that winter. But the skiing was so amazing that I couldn’t wait. You could say I was snow-eyed.
The slopes were covered in deep powder that morning, but after an hour there was no sign of instability, so we headed across Wardner Peak to a designated area that had just opened for the first time that season. I have joined the group. As we passed a bomb crater (evidence of avalanche protection), I said to Rebecca: “The patrol should be used to being open.”
But when Rebecca pointed her skis downhill, the entire traverse began to move. Slabs were peeling around me. The snow wasn’t moving fast, but it was deep and forced me to lie on my side. I slid downhill like I was on a grade 3 rapid, one moment my head was above water, the next I was down, then back up again. I rested on my side for about 183 meters (600 feet) and everything remained intact, including my skis, in a small bowl with no exit.
It was a deadly terrain trap, and avalanches were still falling. I knew I couldn’t escape no matter what I did. The snow that followed me fell on my head.
buried alive
It wasn’t my first burial, so when the snow stopped and I saw light, I knew I wasn’t deep. But just 10 cm (4 inches) of sluff (dry powder) is like cement. I could hear Rebecca screaming for me and I managed to get her hand to pierce the surface. I yelled back that I was okay, but as I lay there trying to calm down, the second slide released.
Everyone knows that even if the first attack doesn’t kill you, the second one will.
As the snow slid over me and my world went dark, I said to myself: “I’m a dead man.” Everything stopped and a crushing weight fell on me. If I hadn’t been sleeping on my side, I would have suffocated from the snow, but my ribcage protected my lungs.
When everything was quiet, I could only move my eyelashes and toes. After doing some simple calculations, I realized that I was not in a position to survive.
statistically unviable
Statistics show that 93 percent of avalanche victims can be recovered alive if dug out within the first 15 minutes, but after that their numbers decline catastrophically. After 45 minutes, he only has a 20-30% chance of survival. He was buried for an hour.
I still had all my equipment with me – no sign of a hat, gloves or pole to lead searchers to me. We were skiing inbounds, so we didn’t have airbags, and crucially we didn’t have beacons (transceivers). I didn’t even have a pack with a shovel and probe. Only Rebecca knew where I was, but I didn’t know if she was also trapped under the snow.
Being buried alive is an indescribable horror. Even now, four years later, I still get flashbacks of that memory. I tried to control my breathing to save as much air as possible, but it was impossible. But as time passed, he remembered his wife and family in a distorted way and cried out. I knew it was futile and a waste of oxygen, but the fear is there, and then there is the uncontrollable fear. With all my being, I prayed 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 lower back. I knew it was a probe, but then nothing happened. I was sure they missed me. But gradually the pressure on my body decreased, the light changed, I heard noises, and I began to feel the vibrations of the excavation. I started screaming again and still kept screaming after they found me.
About 40 people were searching the hill when Joanne, a 70-year-old part-time ski patroller from Silver Mountain, spotted me. I was 2.8 meters (9.2 feet) deep and she found me using her 3 meters (10 feet) of electrical pipe, which was given to her as a temporary probe for her search. This saved me. Commercially available avalanche probes are only 2.3 m (7.5 ft) long.