There is a thread about this over on Telemark Tips. I guess a friend of one of the members over there was at the scene. Pretty sad story.
Always cary a becon.
Here is the address and the origonal post.
http://www.telemarktalk.com/phpBB/viewtopic.php?t=13425
Got this throuh an email list serve... very sobering account about the Mines Peak avalanche and the rescue attempt.
I am sending this email to all of you in the hopes that it may help prevent a repeat of the tragedy that happened on Berthoud this weekend.
I also wrote this down because I honestly still don't know what do with my feelings about it.
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 11am. As we were dressing in our gear, a guy ran buy 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 had not 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 online 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 2 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 right 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 has 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 probe 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 in at the bottom.
Only one or 2 people had long enough probes to reach 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 where 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 slow. They had begun digging. We all grabbed shovels.
There were about 8 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 shovels 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 like hell 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 snow board. 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 CPR team immediately. Unfortunately no one had a CPR mask.
Each person took turns supporting the 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 support the head to give other guy a break. Now Sammy was now 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 arrived group observing from above, asking for a CPR mask. One of guys 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 nock on mountain rescue. These are guys working 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 medic 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. 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. I 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.
We hitchhiked up to the parking lot and back to our car. We considered doing a turn or two on the front side, but our hearts weren't into it.
It was time to go home.
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 at a 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. He 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 week 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 sufficient medical kit in the backcountry. Full medical kit, ace bandage, duct tape AND CPR mask. If you will be saving someone's 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. Mines was heavily wind loaded, had a 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. I 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 for 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 what 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 email with my friends to let them know what can happen when a series of poor decisions meet 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.
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It's not that life is so short - it's just that you're dead for so long.
