A man heads out on a ski tour. He dies in an avalanche that appears so easy to predict and avoid you can hardly believe what you’re reading in the accident report. You glance away from your screen and reflect: “Could this have been me?”
First, let me take a moment to offer condolences to the family and friends of the person I write about below. (I’ll not mention names, with respect to Google search results landing here instead of obits and such). After a half century of ski touring I’ve known all too many people who have perished in avalanches. Every one of these individuals is a tragedy in so many ways: lost potential; orphaned children; loved ones left to grieve and shout why to the empty sky. And then the ancillary deaths brought on by the unrequited sadness of the living; alcoholism, depression, more. If I think on it too much, I fall into a profound sadness. It’s as if we’re in a decades-long battle, replete with casualties, PTSD, all the bad. While there is nothing that can magically erase this sadness, treating these events as learning moments is a way of helping others survive the battle. Or avoid the battle entirely. That’s why, at the risk of being accused as a second-guesser, I write these sorts of posts.
The Mount Trelease accident here in Colorado earlier this winter is today’s case in point. I was the person wondering, “Could this have been me?”
I’ve ski toured Trelease, and know firsthand that the more conservative uphill route, while mostly safe, leads to a runout zone below an avalanche path that produces potentially killer slides. I remember looking at that path looming above me and my partner, thinking, are we far enough away? I figured we were — based on instinct and the size of the trees we were still near. But I couldn’t be sure, since it’s impossible to determine slope angles while looking directly up a slope without some sort of instrumentation — and the only way to be sure you’re out of an avalanche run-out is by knowing the angles. Specifically, something called the “alpha angle.” More on that later. For now, what happened up there? And how about we use this unfortunate event as a self check?
The accident
As gleaned from the CAIC report, a solo splitboarder climbed a well-used skin track to the Trelease avalanche runout zone, made his own track into an area more exposed to runout, then perhaps continued up the steeper portion of the path. The path avalanched. The man was entrained in the slide and died.
When other skiers in the area saw the avalanche deposition and the errant skin track, they executed a good Samaritan beacon search. With no success. Eventually, the authorities figured out who the victim probably was and triangulated his cell phone. They phoned the resulting coordinates to the rescuers on-scene, who used the coordinates to locate the victim. He had no beacon and was wearing an inflated airbag backpack. The report says that the victim was not totally buried, though his head was under the snow.
As is often — and understandably — the case with CAIC accident reports, there is no mention of the mechanism of death. I’m assuming it was trauma, perhaps from impact with a tree. But I suppose he could have been pinned in such a way as to not be able to free his head from the snow. In any case, one can’t deny that if he’d had a transmitting beacon, the good Samaritan searchers might have found him soon enough to save him.
And there I go. I just committed that annoying and possibly deadly canard that’s prevalent in avalanche analysis, communication and even education. I focused on the technology, falling prey to the mantra chanted by us soldiers as we march to war: beacon-shovel-probe-beacon-shovel-probe!! When really, what was going on here?
Analysis
For reasons we will never know, a man chose to venture into the deadly maw of a potential avalanche — when all signals indicated doing so was a profoundly flawed judgement call. Read the “Backcountry Avalanche Forecast” section of the report and you’ll know why I say this. But more, the signals on the ground were there as well. Glance at the photos included with the report. Anyone with a basic knowledge of avalanches — which I assume this gentleman had, based on his abundant days out — would have known by the chalky, thick, wind-sculpted appearance of the snow that this slope was likely primed for a slide.
So if I’m not going to rant about beacons, shovels and airbags, and we’ve established this was an obvious avalanche slope, what’s my take?
First, there’s solo ski touring. Sure, it is axiomatic that heading out by your lonesome has inherent risks, e.g., lay there with a broken leg and your InReach battery goes out, what do you do, crawl? More, there’s the issue of how a solo skier depends on the social contract, consequently placing others at risk in the event of a rescue.
But we’re not talking ethics here, just the basics of avalanche safety. Is solo skiing extra risky in that regard? Not inherently. As solo skiers often point out, when done with fanatical avoidance of avalanche danger, solo skiing is likely as safe as skiing with a group. Anecdotal perusal of accident reports appears to bear this out. Everywhere I’ve toured, from the Tetons to the Alps, I’ve seen an astounding number of solo backcountry skiers. Anecdotally speaking, I’ve not seen them represented in the accident reports any more than other demographics. (That’s not saying I recommend it.)
Self analysis
So let’s move on from solo skiing as a safety issue, and instead use it as a tool of self analysis. (Please know I intend the following for newcomers to backcountry skiing. If you’re seasoned, as many WildSnow readers indeed are, apologies if I wax sophomoric.)
Put yourself on Mount Trelease the day of the accident, by yourself. Not in the victim’s shoes — we’ll do that in a moment — for now stay in your own boots.
As you gear up at the trailhead, you have no partners to negotiate with (known in avalanche classes as group discussion) no one who’s more expert than you, nobody to call BS on poor decisions. You’re on your own. It is all on you — the refiner’s fire. Have you checked the avalanche forecast? The “Know Before You Go” PR told you to, so you did. But what do you “know?” Did you really understand what you read, and thus you know how dangerous this well known Mount Trelease avalanche slope actually is — today?
Now put yourself in the victim’s boots. When you reach that lower angled area below the runout zone, where the well-used skin track has led you, are you certain it’s a safe zone, or do you just assume, because that’s where the skin track goes, and the ground is nearly flat? Then, when you decide to skin higher in the runout, do you still assume you’re far enough below the potential avalanche? For some skiers, there might be a third answer: you just don’t care. But that wasn’t this guy. He spent the money on an airbag backpack. He deployed it. His social media presents a joyful individual who delighted in big servings of snowy life. He cared. But did he know? I like to think he did, and he was doing what many of us have done, and figured he’d touch the dragon one more time.
But what if he didn’t know? What if he’d listened to the media hype about airbags, and figured that buying one improved his odds to the extent he could justifiably travel avalanche slopes solo, without a beacon? What if he’d never really learned how to identify how far an avalanche might run across the lower angled ground of the runout? What if he’d never developed what avalanche expert Bruce Tremper calls “avalanche eyeballs,” the ability to effortlessly and constantly see all terrain in terms of avalanche potential? What if he’d never developed a firm personal philosophy of physical risk versus reward?
Again, I’ll give this unfortunate man the benefit of the doubt. I’ll assume he knew what he was doing, had considered a risk/reward equation, and chose to continue.
How about you? Are you prepared to make your own calls in such a situation — as if you were skiing solo? If not, who are you depending on as your proxy? A guide? A friend? A friend of a friend?
Epilog: Our avalanche quiz might be a bit long of the tooth now, but can still be helpful. I tested, it still appears to work.
Oh, and what about my original question: “Could this have been me?” Way back in the past, yes. Now, probably not. Probably is the operative word. When my friend and I were standing below that path, it’s possible we were in the runout zone. Though I don’t think so. Thing is, we could have known for sure if we’d had a means of determining exact angles, and used the concept of alpha angle.
Readers seeking to learn the nuances of avalanche safety might take note of the CAIC’s mention of alpha angle in the Trelease avalanche report: 23 degrees. For reasons I can’t fathom, the idea of alpha angle elicits all sorts of negative reactions from backcountry skiers. Maybe “alpha angle” sounds too bookish, or those offended just can’t figure out how to apply the concept.
In a nutshell: Alpha angle is what you intuitively use when you look at an avalanche slope and guess at a safe route skirting the runout zone. In other words, you make a judgement call on how far the beast will gallop. Thing is, you can get more scientific than a guess. Turns out most snow climates have average alpha angles. Know the numbers, break out your inclinometer (or get real good at guessing), and you can make valid determinations as to where to safely stand or cross at the base of a slope, or for that matter where to build a house. Learn the details here.
WildSnow.com publisher emeritus and founder Lou (Louis Dawson) has a 50+ years career in climbing, backcountry skiing and ski mountaineering. He was the first person in history to ski down all 54 Colorado 14,000-foot peaks, has authored numerous books about about backcountry skiing, and has skied from the summit of Denali in Alaska, North America’s highest mountain.
16 comments
Thanks for this step back and look at the facts presentation. Too often we dismiss as “WTF were they thinking, I’d never do that!” the truth is at some point, we have likely made a similar decision and ignored the signs of increased risk for some sweet turns. I really like alpha angles and having maps of historical runout zones such as those CDOT has developed. They can save lives when used as a decision point of reference. Historical knowledge of what paths slide regulary and under what typical snowpack conditions is key local information to aid your decision making.
I am often a solo skier. Generally, I think myself safer solo than with companions, and here’s why. I am not distracted by sweet discourse and am paying attention to the snowy world. I am not showing off my brilliant ski skills and derring do. I do not depend in the slightest on the doubtful idea that a companion will rescue me.
Further, for over two decades I’ve skied almost exclusively in one region. I’ve got to know it well. Also, I ski the backcountry frequently. This adds up to “local knowledge” of the nature and history of its snowpack and the history of its slides.
My personal calculus has determined that an airbag is not for me. The reasons involve weight, cost, fiddle factor, and efficacy. An avalanche can harm or kill you so many ways other than burial, for which an airbag tips the odds a little in your favor. Skiing solo, a beacon is mostly pointless. I know how to use a beacon and carry one when skiing with companions, as a courtesy. I prefer to stay out of harm’s way. I carry a shovel and probe, just because they are useful tools and don’t weigh a ton. An axe would be nice to have sometimes, but axes weigh a ton. I do carry a fully charged inReach, turned on and holstered on a shoulder strap, and I do carry a clinometer and use it.
Ski season 68; so far, so good!
I have the good fortune to be professionally ‘guided’ for most pf my BC days (I am in field support staff for lodges), and I presume to travel as if solo in my observations and decisions. To wit, I am often asking (in my head), “If I was solo, would I do this? Does this fall within my scope of skills and experience?”.
Often I think that the situation is not something I would tackle solo, not so much the avalanche issue, but the able to recover or rescue from injury. I have opted out of routes if my gut feels off about it (never been borne out, fortunately). And I have seen enough professional mistakes have poor outcomes (no injuries or fatalities… but bruised egos, and wary clients… by luck or karma). And I have diverged from professionally set up tracks on a few occasions (always when I am out of sight of clients and guide, or sometimes at a later date).
I have watched clients follow guides blindly, turning into sheep (Check out Backcountry Safe, a project established from a fatal slide in the Esplanades of British Columbia, this is an issue they discuss), failing to exercise the knowledge and ability the claim to have and practice.
“Could that have been me?” The answer is always ‘yes’, because if I say ‘no’, then I have closed off a learning opportunity. Somebody made a mistake (as we all do, more often than we think) and got caught. Learning why Rider 2 chose to go where they did, when they did, will hopefully temper me away from doing the same.
Travel safe
I don’t have an issue with solo touring. I’ve done it but tend to ski with a partner or partners more often.
I will say this. Knowing a region, is great and will mostly keep you alive. Provided your decision making stays in the now and not in the past. ie I have pulled people alive and dead out of avalanches, one group with a guide with over 25 years experience in that area. Only to hear, that at some point the dreaded words “it never slides here” had been spoken. I know of other avalanche deaths were familiarity has bred contempt.
I use two motos to keep me in the now, “every day is a different day” & “it never slides here until it does”. Particularly when skiing familiar terrain.
Maybe around 1995? in mid/later April (calculated guess) a friend and I toured up Early Winters creek to check Silverstar in the upper Methow. When we crossed some flattish ground above the big flats, we came upon avalanche debris a solid 8 feet deep. It released off the eastern side of the wine spires and ran for close to 1/2 mile. It was an eye opener, I would never guess a release that far away could run on a 10, at most 15 degree grade and accumulate the way it did. It was moist snow, late afternoon, previous day, and thank god, nobody in the path. Some avy’s don’t respect the usual safety / avoidance protocols.
THANK YOU Lou as I truly appreciate this article and your past efforts to educate! I’ve found it challenging to measure my words when discussing accident reports on the CAIC website, among others, without possibly offending someone along the way. And you have been a great guide to model after in my efforts to not offend. Separately, I drove past the two vehicles parked at the trailhead that morning and asked a few questions of myself about the snowpack that morning…RIP!
Finally, having been raised by a Vietnam era career fighter pilot many of our conversations about life and death were extremely matter of fact, mixed with sarcasm but always instructive. It was and remains a coping mechanism of fighter pilots and those who cheat death in their professions and in extreme sports. Backcountry touring doesn’t need to be an extreme sport but it is clear that matter of fact conversation has and will safe lives.
Thanks Lou. I really appreciate you sharing your analysis and reflection on this one.
Jim M, Not sure where you tour, but I think wearing a beacon is always the right choice in avalanche terrain. I wear a beacon so that rescuers can find my body. I wear a beacon, even though solo, in case another party traveling the same terrain sets off an avalanche and needs to be rescued. A beacon is compact enough that I see no drawback to wearing.
Great point Kevin. Beacon, probe, shovel is non-negotiable IMO. Just as essential as skins, skis, ski poles.
Two brothers were caught and killed on a local backcountry hill near Bozeman back in February 1985 IIRC. The climax slide carried them 1,500’ down into a narrow gully and buried them very deep. Whether they weren’t wearing beacons or had them turned off I can’t recall. Their bodies were recovered July 3 that summer. I can’t imagine the pain and anguish the family went through hiking up there every few days for four months to get to their boys before the scavengers did. Tragic beyond words. Wear a beacon.
Thanks for the comments folks. I wrote this with a fair amount of trepidation. The compulsion happened after I looked at the unfortunate guy’s social feed selfie vids, and saw how positive and exuberant he was. It really got to me. As for beacons, indeed, anyone’s moral compass should swing to always wearing it, if for no other reason than to help rescue teams and loved ones. I think it’s safe to say that it’s downright selfish to ski avy terrain without an operating beacon, solo or not. The limited efficacy of balloon packs is another subtext here… But again, I recommend being careful when discussing these accidents, that we avoid the discussion shifting to the technology, instead of focusing on the decision making and mistakes leading to the tragedy. As for avalanche exceeding alpha angles, sure, there are always exceptions. But it’s a valid and effective concept. Again, we do it intuitively when we skirt the runout zone of a path during a tour, especially when there’s a lack of vegetation indicators. And geologists use it when doing property hazard surveys to identify building sites and so forth. We’ve paid for a survey ourselves, I know how it works. Lou
Thanks Lou, for being willing to dip your toe in these waters, fully aware (as the web savvy Old Salt that you are) that it might provoke outrage from some. I have noticed that in the aftermath of a tragedy, there’s a natural reluctance to dissect the decision making and the human factors that contributed to the accident That’s perfectly understandable, but it sacrifices the opportunity to truly LEARN from a tragedy. More often than not, I’d venture, avalanche accidents involve some degree of ignorance, poor decision making, or both. If we don’t acknowledge that and examine it, we’re doing the entire community a disservice.
Thanks Lou
This was great !!
Lou, that old alpha angle article is a good one that I’ve sent to a number of people over the years. Here’s a quick look at Trelease using caltopo:
https://www.tetongravity.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=362974&d=1613349501&thumb=1
https://www.tetongravity.com/forums/attachment.php?attachmentid=362974&d=1613349501&thumb=1
A quick way to get a sense of the angle from a start zone to where you are standing is to use an app like Dioptra (Android) or Theodolite (iphone). They’re also good for measuring slope angle.
Hi Folks. I don’t want to hijack the thread about Gary Smith, but there is some related sad news from Europe, so I’m posting it here. There have been several avalanche fatalities in Europe this season, including two notable athletes. First case, an Olympic snowboarder, and a guide. Second, an incredibly experienced extreme snowboarder, on a comparatively mellow tour. More and more, I don’t know how to interpret these accidents. In some way, I really think we need to address how we make decisions…not information analysis…but the personality traits that make some people ski and snowboard and climb and others not. I’m not talking about the familiar “go or no go” algorithms, more just the intrinsic impulse to explore, have adventures, and confront uncertainty and risk that some people possess. I don’t even want to say “make decisions” or “accept” risk, because I don’t think it’s often a conscious decision or choice–it’s just the way some people are. I have no solutions, just a call for all of us, including me, to think deeply and try to understand ourselves.
Julie Pomagalski
https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2021/mar/24/julie-pomagalski-olympic-snowboard-avalanche
Luca Pandolfi
https://www.planetmountain.com/en/news/snow-ski-skimountaineering/farewell-to-luca-pandolfi.html
Bruno, thanks as always for your contributions. There is a lot of discussion out there regarding people’s risk tolerance. I remember one of the more eye-opening things I heard, a few years ago, was how avalanche education classes might attract a more risk tolerant and even risk seeking population, and thus be a predictor of people’s propensity for avalanche accidents. Overall, as I’ve written many times, a lot of the seemingly endless train of avy tragedy has to do with people simply not seeing the actual risk they are involved in. But it also has to do with folks’ acceptance of risk levels. I speak from experience. Having been involved in the risk acceptance game for many years. And, of course, as humans we make risk/reward choices every day. Philosophical discussion of how different countries/states have managed covid get right into this, for example. My main approach, when I mentor others or look at my own behavior, is be sure you know, exactly, without a doubt, what kind of risks you’re taking, then make informed, rational decisions. Sometimes, one might live their life figuring their calling to alpinism is worth dying young, and that’s fine if they are intentional about it, and their friends and family understand it. Otherwise, there is a disconnect, and we are left wondering, “how could he have done that?!” And sometimes, mistakes are made, just as one might mess up while driving, or many other ways as we live our lives not in a warm bath. Lou
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