More Avy Lessons Learned
Story and Photos by Kurt "Dirtbag
Pinner" Knisely
Cedar Breaks National Monument, Utah
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I headed out after work on a Friday, leaving
Orem and rolling down Interstate 15. Probably the most dangerous
part of the entire trip occurred, and given the later events
this says a lot, while passing a tractor-trailer after hitting
2" of snow on a pass, north of the 70/15 interchange at
80mph. It was white knuckle time.
After 3 beers followed by a restful night's
sleep in Beaver, I cruised up Utah Route 153 towards the Elk
Meadows ski area (formerly Mt. Holly) on Saturday. This was my
first trip up the 22 mile road. It was very scenic and mostly
snowpacked the whole way. Upon arriving at the ski area I promptly
got stuck below a hill that my all-season tires could not handle.
A guy in an Elk Meadows Ford Explorer pulled up to help create
a track for my car. He drove my car, I drove his Exploder.
Finally, skiing. Nice! Maybe 6" of fresh
on a consolidated base of rocks and shrubs, but this was a SW
facing slope that you had to take just to get down to the ski
area "base". Of course I had already spied a good place
to ski and started skinning in that general direction. The ski
area was not open, but tracks from other riders and skiers were
visible. Then skinning up a snowmobile track for a while, post-holing
the rest of the way up to the Tushar Ridge, still using skins
on my skis. I say post-holing because of the unconsolidated base.
No snowpit was necessary: I was sinking thigh deep into the sugar
snow. Using a ski pole I was unable to isolate a column without
it settling down upon itself. Got in 4 runs of about 700-800
vert each. There were no slides visible, but the ski area is
generally under 35 degrees (average high 20s to the low 30s),
so I didn't expect any action. But boy, was the snow ever unconsolidated.
And there was only 6" of fresh on top too.
Here is a link to a map
of the area. I skied NW of the "plus", "+",
mark on the map and under the lift.
After driving down to Parowan that evening,
I enjoyed 3 more beers and this time a restless night's sleep
(some guy was trying to get into my room at nearly midnight).
I almost made it through "The Beast" on TV, but not
quite. Coffee, an orange, some beef jerky for breakfast and I
was fighting traffic up State Route 143 to Brian Head. Stopping
in the ski shop above the lift ticket office to find out where
to do some backcountry skiing, the guy there was almost useless,
but he did tell me that they now plowed the road all the way
over the pass to Cedar Breaks...cool! Off I went to the Pass.
Here is another map
of the area.
I parked my car at a pullout that the local
snowmobile crowd uses on the east side of the road. The cross-country
skiers use another on the west side of the road. A form of self
segregation it appears. Since it was early, there weren't many
'bilers around, so I crossed about a mile of flats and headed
up the ridge towards the Brian Head peak proper. About halfway
up, the strafing by snowmobiles began (sometimes within 20 ft!
and there are miles and miles of available terrain up there).
After climbing over a small cornice, only one more 'biler came
close, by then I was into rocks and steeper terrain, so there
were no more motorized issues. There were some very cool chutes
coming off the SW side of the peak, but very firm windblown snow
and lots of rocks kept me off the slope. I bagged the peak, took
some pictures of the structures up top, and enjoyed a nice view
of Cedar Breaks. Then I skied down the south-east slope next
to the snowmobile highmark tracks. Only about 4 turns were in
the 30+ degree range and other than that, it was very mellow
terrain. A traverse around to the main highmark bowl and after
hitting lots of rocks, icy snowmobile tracks and a long traverse,
I headed back to the highway, only to cross over into the Wilderness
area next to the guardrail above "Rattlesnake Creek".
No rattlesnakes would be seen here today, in fact, no nothing
(no tracks) on the west side of the road at all.
It was a fairly flat traverse, no skins needed,
instead I just sunk down to my knees in the unconsolidated snow.
There was, surprisingly, more snow down here than at Elk Meadows.
At least 12" of fresh on top of a thin suncrust/windslab,
sometimes supportable, most of the time not. Hearing a whumping
sound and realizing the snow was settling all over the place,
I KNEW the snow was not very stable, but after skiing terrain
in the low 30s the day before, I wasn't too worried. I checked
out a number of lines from the plateau down to Rattlesnake Creek,
had lunch, and then tried to trigger a wind pillow next to a
tree...nothing except a very small slough. A little further west
was a nice moderate slope. It was a little steep at the top (it
still appeared less than 35 degrees on average), with a nice
open low angled (mid-20s) slope below. I jumped in, made 4 turns,
made a hard check below a group of small trees and the snow settled
around me. Looking up, I could see the outline of where it settled
and there was a crack about 10' across with a 10' flank above
me. Whew...I shouldn't be here. I had dropped in north-west of
the "plus" "+" mark on the above linked Topozone
map).
Boy, I was hosed, how was I ever going to
skin out of here? A slide would probably be triggered just climbing
back out and it would have been two steps forward, one step back
in that totally unconsolidated snow. There were just a few more
vertical feet (maybe 50 ft.) to get to the low angled (mid-20s)
slope below, but it was a little convex, so I started traversing
over to a more moderate and less convex slope. I'd make a turn
left and check the snow hard. No problem yet. The realization
had not yet hit that while traversing left to a more moderate
slope, I was also undercutting a steeper slope above. Only two
more turns to the left and I hit an unseen tree branch and face-planted.
Quickly righting myself, I stood next to a tree. Looking up,
I could see where the snow had settled again, this time there
was a crack 25' wide. Thinking "heck, I'm next to this tree,
I should be OK", I stood there for a minute or so and the
crack was getting wider...and wider. I looked at the tree again
and noticed that it was DEAD and only about 8" in diameter.
Glancing up the hill again, the crack was getting wider at the
top and I could see the flank becoming more pronounced, but it
hadn't slid yet.
Just to my left there was a group of live
GREEN trees and a large dead one below. I took one more turn
left and stopped about 5 feet below this dense group of adolescent
trees (8" to 10" in diameter). Finishing my turn, I
saw that the slope to my left was running... FAST. Very FAST,
lots of snow...oh, shit! I could see it wasn't just a little
slough, it was at least 60 feet wide and lots of snow was sliding
down the slope. At this point, still on my skis, I hadn't started
moving much yet, maybe a few inches, but not far. A second later
and I WAS moving, the area above the last place I was standing,
to my right, was running too. And then I started to move. Not
very fast at first, not near as fast as the snow had moved, and
was still moving, on either side of me. My right ski popped off
and I lost a pole. Just 15' below me was that old dead tree.
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There but less than a second to think about what
to do. I tried to grab the big dead tree, but couldn't lean over,
I was going straight down the fall line and couldn't even lean
over a foot or two to grab the trunk! (the snow was up to my
mid-chest). That big dead tree had a nice dead horizontal branch
hanging down and I thought, damn, this thing is going to break
off in my hand. Even though sinking in the snow, I was facing
down the hill and was still sorta' standing, I reached up and
grabbed the branch with both hands. It held, it was holding.
By this time, the snow on either side of me was slowing down
and a second or two later it had stopped. The snow was up to
my thighs. |
The tree and branch I grabbed. |
Wow, my heart was racing, and I was missing
some gear. Down 30' below me was my ski (I rarely pop out of
my old Riva bindings), and 15' above me was my missing pole.
I decided to hobble down to get my ski first, and then skin up
to my pole. With my camera out it was time to shoot pictures
of this thing. I could see part of the crown at the top as well
as a few small slabs lying around below the crown. It looked
big. Skinning up the avalanche path, since it was the safest
thing around, the going was tough. Part of this area had been
thinned of trees by the forest service (as I would later find
out from a patroller at Brian Head), and there was a lot of deadfall
and still a foot or two of sugar snow in between the deadfall.
It took me a good 45 minutes to skin up and out of there and
it was steeper at the top, plus I was still freaking out from
the whole ordeal, and skinning up my avalanche path was not a
very good way to relax. I must have stopped and clicked off 6-7
pictures on the way up. It didn't really feel safe until I got
back up to the plateau above the crown. The crown line varied
from one to four feet deep. It must have slid 100' wide all the
way down to the creek, a good 400 vertical feet.
Skinning back to the car (about a mile), it
began to snow lightly. Now it was much colder than it had been
earlier in the day. Finally, I got my boots off and was starting
to relax a little, but was nauseous and I felt like vomiting.
This must have been some kind of reflexive reaction to a near-death
experience. After guzzling a liter of water and while heading
back to Brian Head in my car, I stopped along the road and snapped
a picture of the slope that had slid, but I couldn't quite see
the slide from the road. Not wanting some snowmobilers to report
a fresh avalanche to the Sheriff and a get full-scale search
and rescue started, I went and reported my incident to the patrol
at Brian Head,
The crown looking to the northeast
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I was lucky, damn lucky. After the slide was
over, I was close to dead center in the slide path and just to
the right of me was a 10' wide area that did not slide, (probably
due to the dense trees above it and the low angle). Obviously,
I triggered the first part of the slide from quite a distance
away (sympathetically), since the point where I stopped was not
steep at all (maybe 20 degrees). The lack of avalanche activity
the day before at Elk Meadows, probably didn't help my evaluation,
but I should have realized that over a depth hoar base, Brian
Head had a lot more snow than Elk Meadows did. Even if I hadn't
been buried and suffocated in the slide, with all the timber
around, I would have probably broken something and then would
have had to crawl back up to the road. With no radio or cell
phone, but of course, a shovel
(and a helmet), I probably had enough gear and food to spend
the night, that is if I could have dug a snowcave with a broken
arm or leg. This was my second avalanche of the season, both
ran as fairly fresh snow over a depth hoar base, on fairly moderate
terrain, near 35 degrees, I know, these are some of the most
likely slopes to go. (The other one was near Park City). Having
once lived in CO and knowing this depth hoar stuff is dangerous,
it doesn't just slough off like the relatively "safe"
past few seasons in the Wasatch. Trees are sometimes your friends.
Las Vegas sucks, not going back anytime soon,
I don't gamble much and it's just a waste of natural resources,
but the mountains in SW Utah look great! I'll going back for
some spring skiing sometime, when the snowpack is more predictable.