• bring more attention to avalanche safety and discuss some of the hazards that we face as sledders.  Everything as it unfolded was too close for comfort.
• to recognize and thank the eleven people that literally saved my life.

*Written by Rick Tams, with help from Dave Ure*

The events in my story took place on April 22, 2007. I’d arranged to take my Dad on a one-day snowmobiling trip into the Forester area near Radium, British Columbia. He’s 71 and also an avid rider, however as a Canadian snowbird, Dad hadn’t had a chance yet this year to get out riding. My cousin and his 17-year-old son came with us as well. The trip from Innisfail, Alberta to Radium was uneventful, and we were unloaded and on the trail by late-morning. We rode up to the cabin at Forester where we stopped and had our lunch, with the thermometer there indicating a noon hour temperature of 48 degrees Fahrenheit. It had been slightly overcast that morning with some flat-light conditions, so when we saw the sun poking out on an adjacent mountainside, we proceeded in that direction. As we rode into the area, we came across a small, and seemingly safe looking bowl, which I immediately began to ascend.

It was not a particularly difficult climb for the M7 I was riding

I knew that I had certainly climbed many areas much more challenging and intimidating then this. At about the half way point up the bowl I decided to turn around, and it was then that I noticed something about three quarters of the way up the hill. It was hard to detect at first but very quickly a large fissure began to form that made me realize that an avalanche was happening. My first thought was to look for snow from a cornice or overhang that had broken off further above and that could start coming down at me. However I quickly determined that the failure of the snow pack I had spotted initially marked the start of a large slab avalanche that I was now positioned directly in the middle of!!

I estimate that the slab of snow that broke free was about three hundred yards wide, and that I was about a hundred to a hundred and fifty yards from the top of it.
“When something like this happens to you, there unfortunately isn’t a lot of time to analyze the situation and chose a game plan from a long list of options. I was still pointed up the hill and moving forward.

I decided that my best choice was to try and climb up and over the top of the avalanche fracture to safety.

I pinned my machine, which at first enabled a very smooth and rapid climb towards the edge of the broken slab. I kept thinking, “C’mon, I can make this”, but very quickly that massive, angled sheet of smooth white powder was turning into a fast, churning river of snow. The forward momentum I had momentarily achieved by hitting my throttle was being rapidly erased by the speed of the avalanche, propelled by the exact same gravity I was trying to overcome. Although the snowmobile was wide open with all of the available track speed at my disposal, I began to feel like I wasn’t getting much closer to the top.

At about that point, I hit a two to three foot tall ridge of snow.

This sharp wall had been created by the shifting slab, which quickly and harshly shot me to the left. With all of my years of experience and skill being called upon to get me out of this situation, the speed and power of the avalanche had become much more than I could even begin to control. So now instead of heading straight up the hill, I was pointing more to the 10 o’clock position. That slight shift in direction again allowed me to gain some forward momentum with my machine, which in case you hadn’t guessed, was still pinned wide open. Afterwards, those who witnessed the incident would tell me that I likely reached 40 to 50 miles per hour in this new angled direction under the power of my machine. However, at the same time the avalanche was still carrying me and the snow I was on, straight down the hill at about 50-60 miles per hour.

The regained forward speed of my sled on this river of snow, even against the overall descent of the avalanche, had now taken me to within 20 feet of the edge of the slide in this 10 o’clock direction, and I really thought I had been able to succeed in my plan to climb off the edge of it to safety. However the final barrier to this goal was about the strike me from out of nowhere. As the avalanche continued to take everything, including myself, downhill at a very rapid rate, my machine struck a large boulder on the downhill, or left side of my sled. Although it felt like I was making progress relative to the edge of the broken slab, the flow of the avalanche was still moving everything down the side of the mountain, moving overtop of everything underneath it, including this large protruding piece of rock.

The avalanche’s impact with the rock violently catapulted me off my snowmobile and into the air about 30 feet.

As soon as I landed and hit the snow, I felt myself being completely buried while still being carried down the hill. As quickly as I had became covered by the force of the rushing snow around me, I all of a sudden felt myself pop up on top of the avalanche, being carried head first down the hill. At that point my machine, which had been launched in the same direction as myself after striking the boulder, caught up with me and struck the back of my legs. That impact drove my feet and legs deeper down into the snow causing my body to slow just enough to immediately and completely be buried again. Just as the avalanche appeared to come to a complete stop, my head again emerged out of the snow, and the words rang in my mind, “Thank God, I’ve survived”.

But seconds later, one last rush of snow from above hit the back of my helmet like a ton of bricks and buried me completely one last time. 

My final resting spot was face down on my stomach, with my body inclined towards the bottom of the hill. The snow that had entombed me was very wet and heavy, and I remember checking to see if I had space to breathe in and out, which I did. Looking up through the opening in my helmet, I could see daylight penetrating through the layers of snow on top of me, which made me think that I wasn’t buried very deeply. My first instinctive reaction was to try and simply push myself up. I remember feeling shocked when I couldn’t move even just a little, so I tried again, and nothing. I thought, “This is crazy, why can’t I just stand up and get myself out of here”, so I concentrated and put all of my strength into trying to dislodge myself, and again, nothing.

The reality started to sink in that I wasn’t going to get myself out.

There was no snow inside my helmet so I told myself that I should have enough oxygen to breath, and then started thinking of what else I had going for me. I had my beacon on, I had air, I didn’t feel badly injured, and I estimated that I must be fairly close to the bottom of the hill and near the surface of the snowpack. I also thought that the other three people in my own party would have witnessed what had happened, and that they would quickly be using their own beacons to find me and dig me out. Who knows, maybe my sled of part of my body may even be visible on the surface of the snow to help mark my location. Although I knew my situation was not great, I felt confident that within a few minutes I would hear people overhead with probes and shovels moving the solid mass of snow around me. So, I relaxed and calmed myself the best that I could to try and save my air and my energy. As far as I can remember, I believe I lost consciousness within a couple of minutes after that. The condensation and heat from my breath and body, likely sealed the small space around my helmet into an airtight seal. Being in this calm and relaxed frame of mind was the last thing I remember until I heard people trying to revive me some time later. 

Other snowmobilers saw the avalanche and helped with the rescue

As all of these events were unfolding, there were two snowmobilers sitting on top of a nearby ridge that witnessed the avalanche and who were able to keep an eye on me and my sled in order to have a approximate idea of where I ended up. There were also six other sledders about three quarters of a mile away who had been riding out of the area for the day, when the slide began. Luckily for me, one of these riders happened to see the avalanche and the green outline of my sled as well, and stopped the rest of his group to come back and provide assistance. As luck would have it, all the snowmobilers that were there to respond to this incident were experienced riders who carried beacons, probes and shovels and had some knowledge of what to do. As with most other incidents and responses, there are always some learning’s to share, and this one was no different. We found out later that one of the responders had not switched their beacon from Transmit to Search mode, which resulted in a trench being dug in the wrong area while trying to locate me. Looking back, the time spent on this could have had serious consequences given the very limited amount of time I had been given to survive after being buried alive. However once all beacons were in Search mode, they were able to zero in on my signal and locate my approximate location, and within a short period of time, had hit my helmet with their shovels.

The spring avalanche snow was wet and heavy

People had to take turns shoveling as they tired very quickly. They first cleared the area around my helmet and noticed that my face was purple and that I was not breathing. They continued to dig down to my waist, and five fairly large men tried to pull me out to the surface but amazingly, could not budge me. The snow, warmed even further by the friction of the slide, had set up as hard as cement, so they dug down deeper to my knees and this time were able to remove me and place me on the surface of the slide. They laid me on my back and one of the responders performed CPR. From the heroic efforts of these brave men, I fortunately started breathing on my own, although I did not become fully conscious for another 8-10 minutes. When I finally came to, I experienced the worst headache I have ever had in my life, was sick to my stomach and my mouth was extremely dry.

The potential was there for a second avalanche

My rescuers of course were conscious of the hazards that still existed in this area of the slide during the entire time that they were digging me out. After all, it was a small remnant of the larger slide that had buried me completely that final time, and there was no telling how stable the three foot thick slab of snow was that remained perched above the area of the original fissure. However, in my recuperative state, I was unable (or perhaps just unwilling) to move from my recovery position, so I was carried over to a nearby machine where I sat to help gain my composure. Soon after, it would be my cousin who I leaned against on his sled while he drove me a short distance to a flatter and safer area. However these brave souls were not done yet, and preceded to locate and dig out my machine, taking yet another hour of their tireless effort. Incredibly enough, my machine was in running condition and although I still felt very sick, I concluded that I would be better off riding my own machine out where I could control my own pace, rather than riding behind someone else.

The ride to recovery

That trip back to the trucks felt like it was the longest ride of my life, but two and a half hours later, I made it back out, very thankful to be alive. By the time we got back into Radium, it had been six or seven hours since it all began. Surprisingly, with every hour that passed, I felt better and better, to the point that we decided just to drive directly home to Innisfail from Radium.

I arrived home at about midnight and although my plan was just to go to bed and rest, my wife ended up taking me into the Emergency Centre at our hospital to be examined. More tests were to follow over the next couple of days, while severe headaches and discomfort almost everywhere on my body, were constant reminders of what I had been through. I feel very lucky that now, a couple of weeks later, I feel totally recovered from this incident.

Looking back now I am amazed how vulnerable and powerless I felt

Everything happened so quickly and the wall of snow tossed me around like a rag doll. I also find it hard to believe just how quickly and easily I lost consciousness. I can assure you that many of my own personal paradigms shifted that day. You can also understand my gratitude to this group of individuals who unselfishly risked their own safety to come and rescue me. Without them, I wouldn’t be here today. Yet as their own worst critics, they were reminded afterwards of how important time is in these situations. Of how important it is for someone to assume control and start directing work and taking the leadership responsibilities. Of how important it is for people to work together in a unified fashion to search and rescue effectively. For me however, they will always be true heroes, and will always be the ones that accepted responsibility to act once I found myself in a situation where I was unable to.

So what did I learn and what can I try and share with others, besides that life is fragile?

Well for one thing, become educated on the risks you face in this sport. Take an avalanche safety course and become very familiar with recognizing and responding to hazards, including those less obvious. Know what to look for, and how to determine potentially high-risk conditions. Check the snow and weather conditions on the days preceding your trip. NEVER ride alone. Learn and practice CPR. Make sure that EVERY person that rides with you carries a beacon, shovel and probe and knows how to use them. Take your beacons out into your yard and practice with them BEFORE you venture into mountainous areas. Have someone in your group carry a satellite phone.  At least, that’s a start.

An avalanche airbag might not have made a difference

I always felt that I was usually very conscious of avalanches. I even purchased avalanche bags that blow up with the pull of a handle for my two sons to help keep them safe, although looking back I don’t think I would have had time to activate the airbag on the avalanche pack even if I had been wearing it. I have been snowmobiling for nearly all of my life but I definitely misjudged this hill and the huge hazards that it silently held. As a member of the Montana snowmobile club, I ironically received their newsletter in the mail the day after this incident and in it was an article talking about watching out for the smaller bowls in the springtime. It said that because they are not as steep, the snow does not slide down during the winter, but in the spring when the snow starts melting and the water starts running down the hill under the snow, the whole slab of snow has a higher probability of coming down. That can become compounded when spring rain percolates through the upper layers in the days prior to a slide, just like it had in this area before we arrived on that particular Sunday. Had I been aware of these tips a couple of days before my incident, perhaps I would have avoided that bowl and came home unscathed, just like any other normal snowmobile trip. My hope is that others can learn from my experience and help ensure that they never have to go through what I did.

I would really like to thank everyone that risked their own lives to save mine.

Thank You

Alan Harder & Duane Hildebrand of Strathmore AB
Dan Fox of Nanton AB
Dwayne Howatt of Calgary
Todd Amlin & Reece Webster of High River AB
Jon Creason & Kirt Laing of Airdrie AB
Greg & Aron Quesseth of Innisfail AB
And My Dad Mel Tams also from Innisfail AB

Zac’s Note: Rick mentioned that he had recently read an article about maintaining an air space rather than swimming.   Things happened quickly but he does remember holding his hands on the top of his helmet with his elbows in front of his face.  He was wearing an open faced (motorcross style) helmet with goggles and there was no snow in front of his face once the avalanche stopped.  He was rather surprised at how quickly (2 min) he felt that he passed out.  He believes that he had held his breath during the motion.

The rescuers really strained Rick’s shoulders as they attempted to pull him out of the snow before he was fully uncovered.  He was quite sore for a number of weeks following.  Rescuers did pull him right out of his boots (insulated rubber boots with no laces) in their final attempts to free him to begin CPR.

Rick hosted an well attended avalanche course for his community early the next season following this experience.

The post Avalanche Burial – Too Close For Comfort appeared first on Zac's Tracs.

Anna Brown, an avalanche forecaster with the Canadian Avalanche Centre, explained that the snowpack was unstable because of the continuous storm systems coming through the area.

“It’s still sitting lightly on the terrain,” she reported to the Revelstoke Times in November 2009. “It hasn’t pressed in, it hasn’t had time to bond together, it hasn’t had time to squish in to the terrain and really set up.”

File this info into your avy safety databank and draw from it each fall season. Learn from the frightening close call that these four sledders experienced.

“You start to hallucinate, go in and out, and then it just goes to your mind, well, I’ll just go to sleep, it will be OK,” he told the Times Review. “You think in your head at that time it’s going to be okay, but the reality is it’s the worst possible time. You actually want to close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Cooper was anything but OK. Completely covered in snow for more than..”

CLICK HERE to be forwarded to the full article from the Revelstoke Times Review, Nov 26, 2009

The post Early Season Avy Accident appeared first on Zac's Tracs.

I want to ask your advice on a scenario that commonly occurs when sledding.
Senario:
A group of sledders find a hill slope to high mark on. Stable snow ( slab verified by snow pit ) , no previous avalanche activity visible, wind lee side with some wind loading of snow but no cornice . no significant terrain traps. High marking occurs ( one at a time ) but the fifth guy get stuck half way up. He / she is not hurt or trapped ( just stuck ) . The question is – ” does someone climb the hill via sled to safe location and walk over and help the stuck sledder get the sled out ? ” I feel that unless the sledder is hurt – there is no justification worth the risk to endanger another sledder to help out unless the stuck sledder is incapable of freeing the sled after an half hour or so of trying by himself. I know there is a lot of variables in this scenario. For years we found ourselves in these situations ( and in more dangerous slopes ) where if a member of our group got stuck – we would immediately race up the hill to help the stuck sled and rider. We always help our group and other sledders ( not part of our group ) when someone is stuck but I am trying to find a different approach to this scenario. If some one is stuck in a creek or tree well then there is no hesitation – just go over and start pulling or digging. I want to tell our group that they have half an hour to get out by themselves before we consider going up to help. Also we are going to start carrying 2 way radios to help with this situation. Please provide your thoughts .
Regards, Chris

Hi Chris,
When:

• conditions are reported as stable
• our local observations are confirming the stability
• there are no reports of Deep Weak Layers releasing
• the slope is free of traps
• there are rescuers available with visual on the guys on the slope
• the sledder has a really big dig ahead of him
• we are all trained and carrying rescue gear
• or it is me stuck!!
  ===> we have gone to help stuck riders.
  I am not saying that this won’t catch us someday, though. Especially during conditions like this weekend.
  Follow this link for more info on the Special Avalanche Warning (SPAW) issued for Feb 27-Mar 1.
  This is the 2nd weekend in a row.
  SPAWThe fact is two (or more) riders on the slope
  = more opportunities to trigger (more load and more traveling in the terrain to hit a potential weak zone)
  = fewer rescuers (less resources)
  = potential for more burials (more decisions to make and harder to solve)
  = potential for close together burials (harder to solve)
  = potential for trauma (traveling in the avalanche near to a snowmachine may increase odds of injury)To maintain the widest margin of safety the proper mountain travel habits is…stuck sledders should dig themselves out.

  Risk management is all about decisions. Tradeoffs in Risk vs Benefit are happening all the time. We can’t completely remove all the risk, but we can minimize our exposure to unnecessary risks. We make these decisions all the time. Think about driving. We make many choices that affect our safety: – the make and model of vehicle we drive – condition of tires, braking system…all running gear – our physical condition (tired, distracted, rushed…) – speed – the routes we take – rushhour, day/night – our level of training or experience
  At some point we decide that we have invested enough time, money and training to feel comfortable to leave the driveway. We also take into consideration the uncontrollable factors like the other drivers, and the weather or the road conditions.

  Our issues are very similar in the mountains.

  Accidents on the road or in the mountains can vary from bruised egos to death.
  We need to choose to travel with other riders that appreciate these choices that we make each moment of each riding day. While we may not always make perfect choices, by being aware of the hazards and drawing from our avy safety tool kit we hope that to enjoy the backcountry for many, many years.

The post Should I help a stuck sledder? appeared first on Zac's Tracs.

Jump directly to the Jan 28 update – F.A.C.E.T.S.
Jump directly to the Jan 28 update – Methods to Manage.

The following article was re-printed with permission from Ian McCammon. Ian has a background in mechanical engineering, and has worked in the fields of robotics, Microsystems, and aerospace. He has also worked as a field instructor for several wilderness and avalanche programs and is the founder of SnowPit Technologies. His current research is focused on risk communication and decision making.

Randy & Lori shared stories with Ian at the 2010 ISSW in Lake Tahoe, CA this October. We are pleased to run Ian’s paper on F.A.C.E.T.S. as a series in our Newsletters this season!

In hindsight, in the comfort of a classroom or bar, it’s usually easy to see why an avalanche accident occurred. Perhaps the party chose to ski or ride a dangerously wind-loaded slope, enter a terrain trap during high avalanche danger, or continue climbing despite signs of recent avalanching. Working backward from a tragic outcome, the danger seems obvious to us and we wonder why anyone would take chances in such conditions. The easy answer is that the party must have been incompetent, arrogant, or just plain foolish. These answers help us feel better about ourselves since, after all, we wouldn’t act like that. But they don’t lead us to a better understanding of how we might be fooled into making the same mistakes.

To really understand human factors, we need to go back in the accident timeline. We need to imagine ourselves standing at the top of the slope, trying to decide if it is safe to ski or ride. Perhaps we’ve seen the signs of danger, but we also know that we have skied the slope many times before without incident. Or perhaps we know that another party is powering up behind us intent on skiing the same slope. Or perhaps we’ve waited all year for this vacation so we could highmark slopes just like this one.

Such knowledge tends to blur our judgment and tempt us into believing that it’s OK to take a chance on this slope today. These influences operate in the shadowy edges of our subconscious, and we are often oblivious to their effects on our behaviour.

Fortunately, there are predictable patterns in how these unconscious influences affect our decisions. It turns out that these same patterns appear whenever we face physical hazards such as driving, unsafe sex, taking drugs and, yes, dealing with avalanches. These patterns are well known in areas such as advertising and health psychology, but their lessons apply to decision making in avalanche terrain as well.

What Are Common Human Factors?

In a recent analysis of avalanche accidents in the United States, consistent patterns emerged in the decision making of avalanche victims. Here are six of the most common: F.A.C.E.T.S.

*F*amiliarity

Parties traveling in familiar terrain made significantly riskier decisions than parties traveling in unfamiliar terrain. This effect was especially pronounced for parties with substantial experience and training.

*A*cceptance

Accident parties that included females made riskier decisions than parties of all males. The effect was most pronounced in parties with little avalanche training. It is notable that these were precisely the parties in which women were least likely to participate.Most avalanche accidents occured in popular areas on slopes that were familiar to the victims.

*C*onsistency

Parties that were highly committed to a goal – a summit, ski slope or an objective in deteriorating weather – made riskier decisions than parties just out for a day of skiing, climbing or sledding. This effect was most pronounced in parties of four or more.

*E*xperts

Accident parties often contained a de facto leader – someone who was more experienced, older, or who had better skills. Remarkably, when this leader had poor avalanche skills, novice groups were more likely to follow their leader into dangerous situations than when novice groups made decisions by consensus.Check back in a couple weeks to learn what T. and S. stand for!
Oh…the suspense!!

What Can We Do About Human Factors?

Human factors are part of being human. They are essential to efficiently navigating the complexities of everyday life. Try as we might, we can’t simply talk ourselves out of relying on them, but we may be able to recognize when we are most prone to their negative influences and stop a bad decision in its tracks.

1. Travel with partners you can talk to

In a common accident scenario, a party gets spread out in avalanche terrain, with no specific plan to re-group and re-assess conditions. The person out front makes their own route finding decisions and the group follows, often with increasing alarm about what they see around them. When the avalanche releases, the victims are often well aware of the risks they were taking.To avoid this situation, travel in parties that communicate about avalanche conditions. You don’t need a running commentary, just a friendly discussion at key points in the tour about what folks are seeing and experiencing. It helps to agree beforehand on where the key decision points are, and have a common language for discussing avalanche conditions and risk tolerance.

2. Identify when the risk level is rising

To catch an accident before it happens, try a pre mortem test: Ask yourself, if an accident occurs, what would I have missed? Imagine your buddies sitting in the bar after your accident, wondering how you made your decision to ski or highmark that slope. If you can enumerate more than two or three obvious signs of avalanche danger, you are probably taking significant risks. And your feeling that “everything will work out OK” will, in hindsight after an accident, look to them more like recklessness or worse.Good communication within your party is essential to recognizing changing avalanche conditions.

Need help figuring out how much risk you are actually taking? Werner Munter’s Reduction Method, the SnowCard, NivoTest or ALP TRUTh method can provide some quantitative insights. The AVALUATOR, developed by the Canadian Avalanche Centre, is another decision making tool that is handy for recreational travellers. CLICK HERE for more information on the AVALUATOR.

Check back next month for another suggestion to control our ‘irrational’ impulses.
Oh…the suspense!!

What are your suggestions to counter the effects of CONSISTENCY/COMMITMENT and EXPERTS?
Share a story of a close call that was aggravated by these two Human Factors.

The post What Were They Thinking? appeared first on Zac's Tracs.

During the classroom course I couldn’t help but think that I was already doing a lot of the right things, but that it took me twenty years to get that figured out. Lori Zacaruk was our instructor, and she does a very good job conveying the importance of avalanche awareness and safety. It was a very humbling experience to know that I learned in two evenings as much if not more than I had in twenty years of riding in the mountains. With that I pledged to myself that I would take the field Training portion as soon as I could. That same night I signed up for the Field training session in Valemount.

That was last year. Come Feb of this year I was again pleased to know that I had learned a whole lot more about avalanche awareness. I was bummed out to learn that Lori wasn’t going to be our instructor for the field training session but rather some long hair hippy snowboard looking dude named Eric. There was another lesson learned. Never judge a book by its cover. Eric is an excellent instructor that is not only passionate about avalanche awareness but also well experience in avalanches.

Well one year later and I’m in a Classroom again with Lori as an instructor. This time it’s a one evening course. The Indoor Rescue Workshop. This work shop is another valuable lesson that I can take out to the mountains with me to help ensure that my friends and I have the necessary training to safely enjoy our snowmobiling experience in the mountains.

At the end of the course Lori asked me if I thought that after taking the AST1 if there was any value in taking the workshop. My answer to her was absolutely. I told her that at first I thought that the Rescue Workshop would be a good refresher but turns out that it’s just another chapter to an ongoing learning experience.
My advice to anyone that does any snowmobiling in the mountains or any winter outdoor activities in the mountains, take the AST1 Avalanche Skills Training Course and Indoor Rescue Workshop, the two complement each other. Zac’s Tracs and their staff come highly recommended and I have nothing but great things to say about them. Lori I would like to thank you and Dawn personally for your dedication to Avalanche Awareness and could you please pass on a thank-you to Eric for his great work as well.

Ron Charawich, Bonnyville, AB Nov 2015

The post But I Already Have My AST1 appeared first on Zac's Tracs.