I’ve set off many slides over the years on purpose where I would cut the slope in a safe way, or stomp on an isolated pocket that looked bulbous and wind loaded. I was being safe. My radar for dangerous snow conditions grows every year with more and more experience simply being in the mountains. I was very thankful that I had never been caught in a slide in my numerous backcountry adventures. But there is a saying in backcountry skiing. It is very similar to the motorcycle one, “There are two types of motorcycle riders…ones that have crashed and ones that will.”

The law of averages comes into play. The most experienced snow scientists in the world have been caught in avalanches. There are just too many variables: wind, temperature, moisture content, slope angle, weather, and more, and all of those variables are spread out through every layer of the snowpack at every different snowfall and times of no snow. These laws caught up with me this year. Twice.

Thankfully my senses did not lie to me. Both times I sensed something was off and I vocally expressed that to my ski buddies. Ironically both of these incidents did not happen in the untamed wilds of the backcountry, but in the safety controlled boundaries of a ski area. Both were in areas I ski repeatedly all year long. I have some ski buddies who used to make fun of me for wearing my avalanche gear every day no matter what the weather and snow conditions. It is habit and in my mind a safe thing to do. There is no such thing as perfect control work done by patrol. Little trigger points are missed. A slope can be bombed many times, and then skied by hundreds of people. It can still slide without a moments notice. This has happened before and will happen again.

The first slide was in a chute. I got to the top of it and took one look and said to my buddy, “Hold on. Stop. I need to cut the slope.” My buddy is an amazing skier, but has way less experience in terms of avalanche safety. He waited and I picked a safe spot by a tree where I could stomp on a wind loaded pocket and not get swept down. I knew it would go and sure enough it did, bringing the entire side of the chute with it.

I told my buddy to wait as I traversed into the next chute. Once again I could tell the next chute would go as well. I told him to wait while I began to make another cut. I was too late. My buddy had already entered exactly where I came from and traversed on top of me. The slope immediately fractured below his skis and above and all around me. I fought to hold an edge and tried to get out the side and for a split second I thought I would succeed. That hope was just as quickly vanquished as the snow and I picked up speed. I was thrown on my side. Its the first time I have ever felt truly helpless on skis. No control what-so-ever. I was completely submerged as I was swept down the chute. My vision was nothing but countless streaks of white shooting in every direction. I was swept over the first cliff band and felt the weightlessness of being sideways over the abyss. I slammed down and quickly fell off the next one. The thought quickly went through my head, “I could get buried by this.” As soon as that thought was finished I could see sky and fought to push myself up. My skis popped underneath me and I straight lined out onto the apron as the slide fanned and slowed.

I collapsed at the bottom, shaken. My buddy skied the now iced over chute and broke his thumb on the ice. He was in pain and I was still breathing hard through anger, fear, and relief. He expressed his regret and I made sure he was alright. His lesson was learned. I should have learned my lesson to communicate more effectively and clearly, but I ignored that fact and placed the blame solely on his inexperience.

Another motorcycle quote, “What do you call a cyclist who doesn’t wear a helmet? An organ donor.” While the same could be said for helmets and skiing it certainly applies to avalanche safety equipment. Beacon, probe, shovel, every day in avalanche terrain. In-bounds or not. Learn how to use them efficiently.

Last week. The snow has been coming in heavy and wet on top of some frozen layers, a clear recipe for bad avalanche conditions. A different chute. Different, more experienced ski buddies. We skied it in the morning. It was awesome. Went back for round two but decided to take the high entrance. Once again my senses spike. I said to my buddy, “I don’t like this section. I’m just going to cut across quickly and lightly.” That is where the communication ended, and that was both of our mistakes.

After the cut I continued skiing out of view of my buddy in the chute. I should have waited until he made it to the same safe zone. He made the same cut and yelled, “Slide.” I didn’t hear him yell as I was skiing the chute extremely fast. I hit a patch of ice and was backseat for a second but recovered and made the next turn at high speed. At the apex of that turn I was freight trained by the slide. In that split second I accelerated to twice the already high speed. In another split second I was head first and and accelerating into a rock wall that lined the chute. In the next split second I made a pure survival instinct move that I still can’t quite wrap my head around. I rolled over and got my skis between myself and the wall and at that moment I impacted and then tumbled into the apron.

When I came to a stop my right leg felt very light. It was twisted behind me and I could only see the tail of the ski. I freaked for a second and thought the worst. I’ve injured myself before where adrenaline has numbed any sense of pain. I moved the leg to its proper position and realized everything was ok. My ski had snapped in half and because of that my right leg felt light and not right. My knee was tweaked and once again I was shaken. I skied down to the car on one ski, went home, and drove to the city to be with my girlfriend. When I got there she said, “You didn’t come down because of your knee. You came down because you were scared.”

Lesson that has hopefully been fully realized now that it has happened twice. Communication in avalanche terrain is essential. If there is any doubt at all re-communicate.

Twice in one season. Both inbounds. Hopefully not this season, not ever again. The mountains will always be more powerful and they will always humble you.