From volume 113, fall 2016

By Julie McBride

FOR MARMOT BASIN, Friday, January 29, 2016 marked the end of a nearly two-month drought. Although November blessed us with a dump of snow during our opening week, December and January had forsaken us. Our last appreciable snowfall had been seven weeks prior on December 9. The arrival of the much anticipated storm was also the harbinger of a human-triggered avalanche cycle from the Icefields Parkway to McBride, BC. A total of five separate events involving avalanche professionals as well as recreationists all occurred within a 200km radius of Marmot Basin. It was a busy day in the avalanche world near Jasper, one that would ultimately cast a sombre shadow over our operation for the remainder of the season.

During the drought, temperatures had ranged from just below –20°C to just above freezing with a week of sustained cold. With less than 90cm of snow on the ground, Marmot’s was a textbook continental snowpack—shallow and weak, facets throughout, sitting on a base of depth hoar. Although the “storm” delivered only 8cm of snowfall in 24 hours, it was accompanied by moderate to extreme southerly winds, that formed a new storm slab. Friday, January 29 was our first avalanche control morning in weeks.

PHOTO: AERIAL SHOT OF MARMOT BASIN // MARMOT BASIN

As the forecaster that morning, my first priority was an Avalauncher shoot that produced results from size 1 to 2.5, with the larger releases initiating in the storm slab and then stepping down to a layer of facets and depth hoar, 50-70cm down. Satisfied with these results, I turned my attention to Charlie’s Bowl.

A northeast to southeast-facing alpine bowl with a series of steep, rocky chutes below its entrance adjacent to the Knob area, Charlie’s Bowl had not yet opened for the season. In mid-November, Chutes 5 through 7 had released to ground during a natural cycle. A week later, Chutes 5 and 6 failed to ground with explosive control work. With more explosives in December, Chutes 6 to 9 released to ground for a third time. By mid-January, ski cuts produced only small results in isolated pockets of thin wind slab. We began ski compacting and waited for more snow to open Charlie’s to public. Late in the afternoon on Thursday, January 28, with over 100 sets of tracks around me, I stood at the top of the Chutes, snow and wind obliterating my visibility, hopeful that we might be getting close.

The first two one-kilogram hand charges in Charlie’s Bowl on the morning of the 29th produced no results. Two more 1kg charges, deployed simultaneously at either end of a broad apron above the Chutes, also failed to produce a result. With no more explosives, I proceeded to ski cut from my position at the top of Chute 8. Once I was clear, my partner, one of our avalanche technicians, did the same in Chute 5. While ski cutting we both noted a 10-15cm thick, 1F slab that was penetrable on skis, but no signs of fracture propagation or releases other than small fist-sized slab cookies. Then I decided: the avalanche tech would take two patrollers and continue ski cutting in Charlie’s to break up the slab, while I moved on to another area with a third patroller.

PHOTO: CHARGES LARGE AND NUMEROUS // MARMOT BASIN PATROL

Minutes after we’d parted ways, I got a call over the radio from one of the two patrollers in the Chutes: “We’ve had a deployment; he’s on top…” Oh shit. The tech had gone for a ride. Then a second call from the tech: “I’m ok.” Thank God.

As the tech skied into Chute 6, a small pocket of wind slab had propagated into the rocks above him and then stepped down to ground. With no escape, he’d deployed his air bag and was swept by a size 2 for nearly 200m to the flats at the base of the chutes. Spotting from above, his partners reported that he’d been on top of the slide the entire time and that when it came to a stop, he appeared to be sitting upright in the debris, his legs buried to the hip. He had lost both skis and one pole but was able to selfextricate. By the time his partners had made their way to him, he was free and clear of the runout zone, a bit shaken but understandably so. Although he had tweaked his lower back while twisting to release from his skis, he had somehow managed to otherwise emerge physically unscathed from a rather nasty ride through some very thin, bony terrain.

No stranger to ski cutting, it was the tech’s third involvement during his seven-year tenure at Marmot. His propensity for triggering avalanches was already well established. At 6’8” and 260lbs, he has been known to trigger slopes where even large explosives have failed. His skis sink deep into the snowpack and he has a knack for finding the sweet spot. 

In addition to his formidable stature and reputation, his pursuits outside of work invoke similar images of unbreakable nerve and strength: base jumping, parachuting and backcountry sledding. This is someone who had been hired as an avalanche tech not only for his knowledge and experience, but also for his ability to remain stolid and clear-headed in stressful situations. It came as no surprise that after debriefing with the control team he was ready to get back on the horse, so to speak.

Back at the top of Chute 6, he gladly volunteered to place a 6.75kg sack of explosives into the hangfire. The shot cleaned out what was left, taking Chute 7 to ground along with it and releasing the thin storm slab in Chutes 8 and 9, which ran over top of the ski cuts in Chute 8 from a few hours earlier.

PHOTO: A SA IN CHUTE 6 AT MARMOT BASIN // JASON RECHNER

That afternoon, details of other larger events to the south and to the west of Marmot began to circulate on the news and within industry channels. A Visitor Safety Officer from Jasper National Park had been involved in a skier-accidental size 3 that deposited nearly two metres of debris on the Icefields Parkway near Parker Ridge, closing the highway. And at least 15 snowmobilers from three separate groups were involved in a size 3 machine accidental near McBride that resulted in the deaths of five snowmobilers.

Amidst these rumours and half reports I went home that night and contemplated the decisions I had made that day: where I had failed, what I could have done differently, what I had learned, what I would do differently now, what I would do in the future. My head reeled from the cerebral merry-go-round.

As avalanche professionals we spend a great deal of time talking about avalanche problems and avalanche hazard, and how things like variability, uncertainty and confidence play into our analysis of what the problem or hazard actually is. We also talk about human factors: nebulous sub-conscious phenomena that can sometimes lead us to miss or misinterpret pieces of information, or bias our intuition and instincts. Even though we employ various tools, decision aids, methods and procedures to avoid mistakes of both the analytical and the human kind, sometimes unexpected or unlikely things happen. Sometimes we get caught in slides. That is just the nature of snow on steep slopes. And it is why we also practice and teach avalanche rescue skills. There is always uncertainty and sometimes we get it wrong.

While I knew that my decision to continue ski cutting that morning had turned out to be a bad one, the reality is that the possibility of going for a ride exists every time I or someone else ski cuts a slope. Still I couldn’t help feeling that I’d let the team down, in particular the tech who had been the victim of my decision. An element of complacency had crept in during the drought. Having seen little change from day to day for seven weeks, I’d underestimated the effect of a little bit of new snow and some wind on our deep persistent layers and what a light trigger in the right spot could do, even in worked terrain. My confidence was rattled. Our snowpack was weak and unpredictable, and the head forecaster and I resolved to punctuate future
control missions with larger explosives.

PHOTO: JULIE AND THE TECH INVOLVED // JASON RECHNER

In the week that followed, it was obvious that the tech who’d been involved was clearly struggling to deal with how he had been affected. He was having trouble sleeping, he was having nightmares, his hands trembled, his head just wasn’t in the game and the pain in his lower back had worsened. We sent him to a doctor, a physiotherapist and a critical incident stress counsellor. We filed a workers’ compensation claim and he was placed on light duties.

The physiotherapy sessions continued, the counselling sessions continued. Weeks passed, then months. His mood and progress seemed to ebb and flow. Every day was a different day, each with possibly a different challenge. He started experiencing panic attacks. He was frustrated. With no manual, tools or methods guiding us in supporting him, we—his supervisors—were frustrated. We talked, we talked with him, we talked with our managers, we talked with WCB, then we talked some more. I suggested that perhaps some time completely away from the work environment would help. He opposed; he felt that his anxiety was something he had to face head on and that stress leave would be counterproductive to learning how to overcome it. I was skeptical but conceded. After all, I was no expert and I admired his dogged determination. He was doing everything right. And while he struggled, the rest of us carried on, not for lack of compassion but for lack of other options.

The season continued much as it had begun, with little snowfall and low confidence in our snowpack. We opened most of our avalanche terrain eventually. Large and numerous explosives continued to produce large avalanches running on deep persistent weaknesses. We were cautious and conservative. Temperatures remained above freezing throughout most of April. An impressive iso-cycle ripped out moguled runs down to the basal depth hoar; our suspicions were vindicated. As we packed up our gear on our final day of the season, the tech was clearly still struggling. I watched the panic wash over his face when someone deployed an avalanche airbag for summer storage, triggering a flashback and the anguish of his trauma. My heart broke. It’s the last day, what happens now?

The tech has since been diagnosed with an adjustment disorder. Over the summer worked with a team of professionals (a psychologist, occupational therapist and a physio/personal trainer) overseen by a specialist in traumatic psychological injuries. It is still a long road ahead but one that he is facing with courage and optimism. He is Hercules to me, and like all parables his trials hold a lesson for us.

When avalanche professionals talk about human factors, we need to talk not only about what goes on in the subconscious prior to our decision of whether or not to ski into a slope, but also potential consequences of that decision at the psychological level as well. Although we find it easy to casually discuss the physical consequences of an avalanche with euphemisms such as “raked through the trees” or “cheese-grated over the rocks,” we rarely discuss how the same event might affect one’s mental health. Or if we do, it is often in hushed voices, behind closed doors: “Why can’t she just deal with it?”

That is because psychological or mental health issues of any kind have a stigma in society in general. It’s not polite to talk about the elephant in the room or the crazy uncle in the attic, so to speak. And this is precisely the reason why we need to talk about it, because the patroller who goes to a wreck or the tech who goes for a ride or the guide whose guest gets buried might not be able to. They might not even recognize that they’ve suffered a traumatic psychological injury, never mind have the strength to admit it to themselves and ask for help. As their supervisors, we need to build our knowledge and understanding of “mental health first-aid” and have these tools in our proverbial tool-boxes when we start the conversation.

From volume 104, fall 2013

By Troy Leahey

The start zone. Photo by Jim Bay.

This case study details a skier-triggered avalanche that occurred in the backcountry accessed from Revelstoke Mountain Resort (RMR) on February 22, 2013. The party included five young men, all new to Revelstoke. Three members of the party were involved in the avalanche. Two of these were partially buried; the deceased (an RMR staff member) was fully buried despite wearing an airbag. It was a size 2 slab avalanche with an approximately 40cm fracture line, which failed on an early February surface hoar layer.

Analyzing accidents has long been an important part of the CAA ITP program and in other risk  reduction industries. It is easy to be the armchair quarterback after an incident and identify the mistakes people made, but I believe it is also important to identify what was done well in the rescue effort to use as a good learning tool.

My involvement in this accident was on a number of different levels. As a member of Revelstoke Search and Rescue, I assisted Buck Corrigan and Ryan Buhler with the body recovery the day after the accident. I watched and helped interpret a Contour headcam video worn by one of the rescuers during the rescue effort for local members of the RCMP and a representative of the BC Coroners Service. This was a sobering but interesting piece of footage; although the actions of those involved on the scene would be apparent to most readers, the footage required some explanation and interpretation for non-skiing investigators. I interviewed some surviving members of the group for clarification on the location of those involved and their actions for the Coroners Service.

I also led a debrief at RMR for friends and co-workers of the deceased, including the other young men involved in the accident. This debrief was the most challenging public speaking exercise I have ever undertaken. Our company president asked if I could speak about the accident, as staff members and friends in the community had unanswered questions, and answers can help lead to understanding and closure. I wanted to be quite frank about the obvious mistakes made, as they were an opportunity for learning. I also wanted to commend the survivors on their effort and help them recover some confidence and dignity. I focused on the following points in the debrief.

This photo shows the position of the skiers when the avalanche occurred and where they ended up. Their uptrack is in red, the avalanche is outlined in black, and the blue dot is where the victim ended up. Photo by Troy Leahey.

MISTAKES:
• The most obvious mistake was the aggressive terrain choice—the danger rating at alpine and treeline was high. The five males were young, aggressive skiers with limited backcountry experience. This is the demographic we may expect to see on the avalanche fatality list. The deceased had skied in the terrain the day before and felt confident in his decision to lead the rest of the group to that zone. He had spent many days in this area in what had been a mostly stable season to that point. It was also the first major surface hoar cycle we had experienced in the season, and this type of avalanche failure may not have been familiar to a young German in Canada for his first winter. The CAC’s avalanche forecast was bang on—as it usually is—but youth, overconfidence and a desire to ski steep powder caused this glaring information to be ignored.

• Poor group management. The first three skiers on the uptrack were all involved in the avalanche; they were obviously not well spaced out enough and were all engulfed by the slab. Luckily the last two in the group were slower and not affected by the slab failure, and were able to execute a fairly quick rescue. Complacency on uptracks is a common problem for less experienced backcountry travellers. The group of five had been split into the first group of three up front and the slower pair at the back, which leads to a lack of communication and no consensus in the go or no-go decision. The most educated member of the group had been a student of mine on a CAA Avalanche Operations Level 1 course the previous year in Whistler. I spent a lot of time speaking with him about their decisions that day. He admitted to having reservations about the decisions being made, but did not speak up and deferred to the deceased as the leader, since he was most familiar with the terrain.

• Improper use of an avalanche balloon pack. Wear the crotch strap if you are wearing an airbag. The deceased was near the surface with his airbag inflated and clearly visible from 100m away. He had not attached the crotch strap of his airbag. As the overburden of the slab he triggered from mid-slope overran his position in the toe of the debris, the airbag was lifted away from his back and above his head. This caused two serious problems. As the balloons and pack were pushed forward and downhill it lifted the pack, causing the chest strap to catch on his chin and impede his airway. Secondly, the buoyant airbag also pulled the victim’s arms above his head, restricting movement and the ability to use hands to clear his own airway. The Contour video showed quite clearly the victim’s lifeless arms well above his head. The space between the balloon pack and the victim’s back was approximately 40-50cm.

The avalanche path where the victim was caught is on the right. Photo by Jim Bay.

WHAT THE RESCUERS DID WELL:

• The two not involved took a safe route to the toe of the debris and did not expose themselves to any additional hazard. They quickly and efficiently went into rescue mode when they saw the airbag on the surface, and began the excavation by first removing the pack and digging to the head to clear the airway.

• The two partial burials ended up mid-path and were able to self-rescue and do a transceiver search of the slide path down to the victim.

• Group members performed good first aid on the victim. Once they uncovered his head, they immediately cleared an ice chunk from his mouth and pulled him out to a prone position where they started CPR. Considering the environment, they performed excellent CPR with quality air movement as exhibited by the face of the victim in the video.

• The survivor with the most training took control of the rescue effort. He dispatched one of the members of the party to start moving back to the ski area boundary to report the accident as there was no cellular reception on the accident scene. This individual really led the first aid efforts as well.

• After at least a half hour of CPR, they made the decision to try to move the body with an improvised toboggan. They did not get very far as the conditions were very deep, but were able to move the body to a safe location out of the avalanche path. They then made the very difficult decision to leave the body and return to the ski area, as the weather conditions were deteriorating quickly. They left the body in a seated position under a tree with the inflated airbag and flagging tape arranged to mark its position, making our recovery very easy the next morning.

This was an unfortunate accident involving a group of nice young people from around the world enjoying the mountains in Revelstoke. There is nothing ground breaking about this accident other than the question of whether the airbag crotch strap could have made a difference. So why did I write this for The Avalanche Journal on a 30° July day when I’d rather be fishing? On a personal level, it brings back a bunch of vivid images and unpleasant emotions that make me sad. However, on the big-picture level this is an opportunity for others to learn and avoid mistakes in the future. A case study is really a story; this story may be repeated in Whistler, Banff or beyond. Hopefully the mistakes made and the triumphs that occurred in this accident will resonate and help others make better decisions in the mountains. That makes me happy.

Have a fun, safe winter.