Berthoud Pass Avalanche Rescue
"The following is a thorough account of this tragedy. It is
long, detailed and graphic (the actual experience was even worse
then I can share). I wanted to relate as closely as possible what
it was like to be rushed headlong into to this situation. If you
are uncomfortable with a graphic account, you may wish to skip sections.
Please read on and learn...
Elias and I arrived late in the parking lot around 11 am. As we
were dressing in our gear, a guy ran by yelling that his buddy was
buried in a slide. My first thought was,"This isn't happening".
But it was. Though the parking lot was quite full of people, very
few people seemed to be taking notice. Elias and I ran up to the
guy and tried to get details.
His mind was scattered, but we learned they had triggered a slide
on Mines; his buddy was buried, and he didn't have a beacon on.
That was all we knew. We found someone with a cell phone --with
service-- and instructed them to call 911 and alert mountain rescue.
They called it in.
Elias and I had run by my condo earlier to pick up my ski equipment.
On the drive back up the pass we noticed that Mines had slid. I
pointed this out to Elias and he suggested that maybe a skier had
triggered it. I said this was unlikely as no one would be silly
enough to drop in on that today...I was very wrong.
Upon gathering info from Erin (the buried skiers buddy), we geared
up quickly and began ascending the east side of the pass. It was
very hard. I imagined I would draw on some super-human strength
and double-time it up...not happening. Having lifted on Friday,
climbed some on Saturday, and this being my first time at altitude
in some time, I couldn't go fast. Someone's life was on the line
and I was crawling!
It took about 30 minutes to get the top of the slide. Unfortunately
when we arrived, there wasn't one, but rather two, slides. This
created a real problem because time was ticking and we didn't
know where to go. Elias stepped into his snowboard and began descending
the lower slide area.
Two guys shouted from below, saying this was the wrong slide. He
had to backtrack up the hill. I was further up the ridge and couldn't
hear him. Several more precious minutes ticked by.
Finally he managed to communicate that the upper slide was the correct
one. Unfortunately, I had already stepped into my skis and was between
the slides. I had to shed gear and hike in waist deep snow to get
to the upper slide. More minutes ticked by. Finally I reached
the release point and was ready to go.
My first thoughts were very depressing. The slide was absolutely
huge. Almost 150 meters along the fracture, over a meter deep, all
the way to the ground and run completely down to the lower chute
and around the corner. I immediately knew the chances were slim
to impossible. Regardless, I dropped into the debris and began crossing
the slope back and forth searching for signs. Nothing... At this
point Elias had made his way up to the slide and was working down
the debris to me.
We reached the deposition zone. It ran for 100 meters. This was
disheartening, as we would have to probe 100 meters by 10 meters
of snow. More time ticked away. Neither Elias nor I had real
probes. In addition, our beacons were useless because the victim
didn't have one. It was difficult to get the baskets off of our
poles ... much more difficult than expected. More time ticked
away. We began probing as deep as our poles allowed ... maybe
3.5 feet. We worked our way down the deposition zone and quickly
the snow became too deep to hit bottom.
Still, no one else had arrived. Where was everyone? Where was mountain
rescue? A person was buried and maybe fighting for their life and
no one else was on the scene! We kept working down the deposition
zone and 2 more skiers arrived to help out. They didn't have probes
either!
I decided to do a faster sweep down the line. Elias lead our probe
group down as I headed down. I reached the bend in the chute and
found a small group of skiers had just arrived from below and was
working a probe line up the zone. The snow was at least 10-12 feet
deep at the bottom. Only one or two people had long enough probes
to reach the bottom of the snow. We communicated and agreed that
our team would work our way down and they would work their way up.
It was a slow and frustrating process. Poles and probes were bending
and pulling apart. I never imagined how important good gear is in
a rescue effort. The whole process seemed so hopeless ... like searching
for a needle in a haystack.
I wondered, what does it feel like when you hit a person with a
probe? How do you know it's a person? Through trial and error I
figured out that it was not what they felt like, but what
they didn't feel like. When you probe down, you feel the
hit on the rocks/frozen ground below. When you hit a person, it
doesn't feel like hitting rock. Depressing thought.
From below we heard shouts of excitement. They had hit him with
a probe. Time for all hands on deck with shovels. We dropped everything
and ran down the slope. They had begun digging. We all grabbed shovels.
There were about eight of us. We dug furiously... it was instantly
exhausting ... I had no idea how tiring it would be. We discovered
the back of his head ... now it was real! We dug a pocket around
his face, immediately, and one person supported his head. He was
face down in the snow; head down hill. At this point, I imagined
we could pull him out...no way...he was glued in the snow. We dug
more. Snow was flying everywhere. People were shouting, digging,
stepping on him, and hitting each other accidentally with shovel-strokes.
I was so glad to have a real shovel with a real metal blade.
The plastic blades were useless. We finally managed to uncover his
snowboard and struggled to release his bindings...it was so difficult.
With board released, we tried to pull him out. Still no go. It was
as if he was in a solid cast. We had to dig out around him and between
his arms and legs to create space. We all pulled and finally he
came free.
We were certain he had back and perhaps neck injuries but this
was secondary...air was first priority. We rolled him on his back
onto his snowboard. His face was blue, his mouth was open and his
eyes were bloodshot with a sad blank stare. We cleared snow from
his air passage immediately. He looked very dead. Erin, his buddy
had now arrived. He told us his buddy's name was Sammy. We all started
calling to Sammy to hang in there.
We set up a CPR team immediately. Unfortunately, no one had a CPR
mask. Each person took turns supporting his head, doing chest compressions
and blowing air into Sammy. It was an exhausting effort, even with
a team on it. Supporting the head to keep his passage open was very
tiring. Doing chest compressions was like doing push-ups at 11,000
feet. Performing mouth-to-mouth was emotionally and physically difficult.
Sammy's life or death was in our hands. CPR was Sammy's only chance.
We were the only ones to do it. On the other hand, I knew nothing
about him. Did he have HIV or Hepatitis? How can I put my lips on
an apparently dead person's mouth...and try to breathe life into
them? What about saliva, blood or throw up? I felt terrible for
even considering this...but you do...you have to.
When my turn came to give mouth-to-mouth, these thoughts vanished
and my sole purpose focused on saving Sammy. 1,2,3..14, 15 compressions...now
breath...tilt the head, cup the mouth and blow in...do it a second
time...1,2,3...14,15...and repeat. We continue for what seemed like
forever.
[I apologize that this section is so graphic, but no one really
tells this part of the story...you need to be ready for it]. As
the CPR progressed, air began to get into his stomach. In addition,
ribs were cracking. But we had to keep going. When we administered
mouth-to-mouth now, a terrible smell would come from the stomach...it
was hard not to throw up from it. We wouldn't stop until mountain
rescue arrived to take over. Where were they? Over 30 minutes of
search and 30 minutes of CPR and they still weren't there. Elias
was on game the entire time. His knees were freezing in the snow
and I tried to help out. We took turns supporting the head to give
another guy a break. Now Sammy was bleeding from his nose. Elias
took duct tape and taped his nose shut. The tape covered his eyes
as well. We shouted to a recently arriving group who was observing
from above, and asked for a CPR mask. They had one. We grabbed this
and put it on Sammy. We continued with CPR for what I believe to
be another 30 minutes.
Mountain rescued finally made their way up the ravine to us. Over
1 hour has passed since we began our search, 1 1/2 hours since Erin
had called for help in the parking lot and probably over 2 hours
since Sammy had been buried. This is no knock on mountain rescue.
These are guys working in town who suddenly get a call. They rush
to their cars, then to the rescue vehicles, drive to the site, gear
up, try to determine location of victim and then heft gear up to
the victim. They are moving fast but the process can only go so
fast. As fast as they can move, it still takes a long time.
When medics arrived, we continued CPR. We were still waiting on
the AED (portable defib). I was holding Sammy's head. They applied
a real CPR mask now. Because Sammy had a beard, the mask wouldn't
seal properly. (NOTE TO SELF: SHAVE!) I had to clamp it down on
his face. [again apologies for the graphic depiction] His nose was
duct taped, there was blood, my fingers were pressing into his eyes
and gripping his lifeless face...it was very personal yet very impersonal...I
was sad. Sammy wasn't responding and the AED hadn't arrived yet.
At 12:52 the medic called off the CPR and pronounced Sammy dead.
Everyone stopped working. Our life saving effort was over. There
was little talking. Today there would be no celebration...no congratulations.
Slowly we gathered our gear (shovels, probes, poles, packs, etc)...all
the while Sammy was lying on his back, eyes wide open and lifeless.
It didn't seem right. All energy a moment ago was focused solely
on him. Now he was just a feature to step around. I felt even worse
now. I walked over to Sammy and knelt down. I put my fingers on
his eyelids and closed his eyes...it was time for him to rest now.
He had endured over an hour of intense and abusive resuscitation.
Now he needed peace. I told him I was sorry and wished him well.
Elias and I stepped into ski/snowboard equipment and skied out.
When we reached the road it was mayhem. Crowds of people, cars
parked everywhere, mountain rescue vehicles and teams from three
counties, sheriffs, fire trucks, news teams, and helicopters. Everyone
was speculating about what happened... "someone broke his leg",
"a group of people are lost", "some dude got buried",
"I just got here, don't know what happened"...all I could
think was "no, someone died today". I am used to being
on the spectator side of the experience... a safe distance where
you can hear the story and speculate on what had happened. Today
I was the story and I wished I wasn't.
This day I learned or reaffirmed some important lessons. I want
to share these with my friends so they don't have to learn the hard
way.
Lesson 1: Never enter the backcountry without ALL the proper
equipment. Train to use this equipment proficiently. Beacon, Shovel,
and Probe, minimum. Sammy owned a beacon. It was sitting
in his bag in the car. He forgot it and only realized this when
they reached the top of the slope. He chose to descend, regardless.
His buddy, Erin, had a beacon, was above him, and would have had
a good shot at finding him in minutes. He would have had a fighting
chance. Instead over an hour passed before Sammy was dug out. He
was in 3 feet of snow. Based on bruising around his neck, Sammy
likely had a broken neck. Maybe he was killed instantly, maybe not.
Regardless, he didn't have a chance without the beacon.
Please get a real avalanche probe...please for the sake of your
buried buddy. Ski poles are very weak alternatives and the baskets
freeze on.
If you do use poles, DO NOT duct tape on your baskets. You will
not get them off or it will cost valuable time. Carry replacement
baskets in your pack..they are cheap.
Lesson 2: Always carry a sufficient medical kit into the
backcountry. Full medical kit, ace bandage, duct tape, AND CPR mask.
If you will be saving someones life in an avalanche, you will almost
certainly need to do CPR and a CPR mask is much safer.
Lesson 3: Get avalanche training and use judgment. Avalanches
kill people. The wind had been blowing for days with speeds
up to 80 miles an hour. Up to 20 inches of new snow had fallen.
Early season snow pack doesn't have good consolidation or anchors.
This slope was heavily wind loaded, had little or no anchors, was
north facing, had 20 plus inches of new snow plus wind load, has
an incline of 30 to 40 degrees...it was ready to kill. It was so
dangerous that the first rescue team triggered a full avalanche
on the lower chute by just traversing above it! Sammy had probably
boarded this slope before and been fine. Chances were, he would
make it -- because most people do. Not today. Even low odds can
kill you...you just need to be that one out of 100. It can happen
to you and perhaps worse, your buddy.
Lesson 4: Gather as much information as possible about the
accident and the victim. Erin (Sammy's buddy) was panicked when
we met him in the parking lot. We managed to get the general location
and that an avalanche had buried his friend. We also learned that
no one else was caught. Only because we are quite familiar with
Berthoud and the Mines area, and the fact that we had seen the slide
from the road, did we have a decent idea of where to search. But,
a few additional questions could make a big difference. "Specifically,
which chute in Mines was he in", "how far down was he
before he got caught", "how long did you search for him",
"think hard, where did you last see him", "what is
his name", etc. These details can make the difference between
life and death.
Lesson 5: You won't suddenly muster superhuman strength
and speed. This isn't the finish line of a mountain bike race where
you are in the lead. This is real life and chaotic. You are at 11,000
feet with little oxygen, you are burdened by gear, you are guessing
each step, you fatigue quickly, you are battling thoughts of hope
and hopelessness. Steady, organized and focused work efforts are
your only chance.
Remember your training. Evaluate all resources on hand. Organize
the team, and methodically perform a proper avalanche search procedure.
I have always loved backcountry skiing. I still love it and will
continue to do it. I shared this tragedy with my friends to let
them know what can happen when a series of poor decisions met with
bad luck...people can die. I can't help but reflect that this could
have been a close friend or family member. What would have been
different - what would have been the same? In this case, I feel
confident we wouldn't have even been on the slope. But what if we
had been on another slope and were really unlucky. I would have
been performing CPR on one of you, or you on me. One of us may have
died while the rest tried desperately to same them. I don't ever
want to be in this situation again in my life.
|
