Witnessed my first avalanche last week. It was awesome, impressive, powerful and, admittedly, a little terrifying all at the same time.
As a group of 11 skiers and three guides, we’d set out early that morning in the Valhalla Range to take advantage of some clean lines that had formed after a good dump of light Interior powder. Perched at the top of a picturesque bowl after almost 90 minutes of skinning, we eagerly anticipated some of the best skiing of the winter just below our ski tips.
Our first guide performed a ski cut, descended to the safe zone and radioed back to give the green light.
Then the first skier went, with the guide’s dog in full pursuit, both enjoying the fluffy white powder down the fall line.
Moments later, the snow ripped out. A metre-high crown more than 30 metres across released, sending a tsunami of snow tumbling down the mountainside. Alerted to the slide, the skier angled out of the way, managing to ski through the edge of the slide unaffected. We collectively exhaled, until someone asked, “where’s the dog?”
He was gone. Our second guide pushed off and blew through the slide path, yelling for the dog. What seemed like an hour passed, but it was only a few seconds until a brown head popped out about 20 metres from where we last saw him, and he continued his joyous run through the snow.
Turned out it was probably a Class 2 slide, with somewhere around 100 tons of snow breaking free. Fortunately, our guides had chosen the terrain well based on aspect, wind, solar heating and knowledge of where the persistent weak layers were lurking. While an avalanche was unlikely on this particular aspect, if it did slide, it wasn’t going very far, and it didn’t.
But the experience was an important one.
To be where we were, all skiers were required to have avalanche equipment, including a beacon, probe and shovel. Upon arrival at the lodge, we immediately were put through an avalanche rescue exercise, ensuring everybody was familiar with a rescue process should the unthinkable happen.
Fortunately, our group was well-educated as everybody had completed at least an AST 1 course, the basics of avalanche safety.
Unfortunately, as backcountry travel becomes more and more popular here on Vancouver Island and across the region, mostly due to improved gear and easier access, incidents of avalanche fatalities are on the increase.
In B.C., an average of about a dozen backcountry users die annually in the province’s mountains, the majority being people who access the backcountry through a mechanized means, quickly climbing into dangerous areas on snowmobile or by helicopter without seeing the hints, such as shooting cracks or ‘whoomphs’, of dangerous snow.
But just as nobody expects to be in a car accident when they leave the house, nobody expects to be in an avalanche when they set out in the backcountry. Knowing the conditions, rules and science behind either driving or backcountry skiing will never fully negate the risk, but it can certainly minimize it.
There are many tools a person interested in using the backcountry can access to learn the information necessary to reduce the risk.
The Canadian Avalanche Centre (www.avalanche.ca) is a treasure of information, while here on Vancouver Island, the Vancouver Island Avalanche Bulletin (www.islandavalanchebulletin.com) keeps local skiers abreast of the conditions. Island Alpine Guides (www.islandalpineguides.com) offer avalanche courses as well as guides for people looking to learn more about mountain safety.
The mountains are an incredible place to spend time, but they are as unforgiving and unpredictable as they are beautiful.
By knowing where the dangers lurk and how to react when it all goes wrong, risk can be minimized, enjoyment can be maximized and everybody can return home safely with a good story to tell.
reporter2@nanaimobulletin.com