No Friends on a Powder Day

Deep Snow Immersion

It has been some time since I last wrote. It isn't that I have been without inspiration, but rather, I have been somewhat overwhelmed with it.

Recently, there has been a significant amount of attention on an issue that isn't new. A relatively young woman succumbed to the unfortunate realities of downhill skiing. The notable factor here is that this happened on a relatively benign area of a ski run—a green run that is heavily trafficked and well-marked. Her untimely departure from the groomed area into an expanse of soft, deep snow resulted in a presumed asphyxiation due to deep snow immersion. Confounding factors, such as a heart attack or another medical event that caused her to go off course, have yet to be confirmed. Regardless, this event has made the rounds on social media and news agencies nationwide.

Deep snow immersion has always been a concern and has given rise to the term "no friends on a powder day." This event highlights how real this issue is. It also reinforces something many may not be accustomed to: downhill skiing, although well-supported and generally safe, is still an extreme sport.

On a very snowy Saturday in February, in Cedar Bowl at the Fernie Alpine Resort, I had a sinking feeling that I had lost a young girl in a tree well. I was leading a group of young snowboarders through the trees. It was my first year as an instructor, and I had the fortune of being given the position of lead instructor for a weekly snowboard camp. Over the weeks, I developed a strong team of young rippers as we explored the resort. We built kickers off features just off-piste and progressed through carving on groomers and freestyle skills in the park. This snowy morning was very low light, and I had four campers with me. We were on our first run. Using our regrouping points established over the weeks, we began making our way down. After our first regroup, one of the campers did not connect. I knew the hazards of tree wells, and the first thing I thought was the worst-case scenario. I can't say how far we traveled—more than 50 meters—but it would have been impossible to hike back up in the snow to try to retrace our tracks. The snow was coming down as it does in Fernie, S4 with no wind, consolidating fast. I struggled with the math: hike up, leave the group, and search every possible tree well with diminishing tracks, or lead the group down the hill and get ski patrol's help for an immediate search. Neither option had great timelines. I was sick with worry. I chose to take the group to the closest groomed run, and we made our way down as quickly and tightly as possible. The missing girl was the most regular camper; she was a local, and her parents were always so stoked for her day out with the group. As we made our way down, I took an inventory of information I could give to the lift attendant to relay to Ski Patrol. As we arrived at the lift line, I was hopeful and scanned the skiers and snowboarders for the red and green snowsuit. She was not there! I stopped the rest of the group and had them wait at the sign as I popped the straps of my bindings and hopped out of my board. Rounding the far side of the line, looking for the lift attendant, I saw my missing camper next to the lift attendant, who was on the phone. Needless to say, I was relieved beyond words and immediately made contact.

After this scare, I made changes. I stopped taking groups into terrain with limited sight lines on big powder days, had all campers bring whistles, and made shorter gaps in spacing.

I wish I could say that was the last experience with deep snow scares in my career in resort skiing. That same year, a snowboarder was found face down in a gully, buried in loose sluff after an 80 cm 24-hour event. I have been on multiple searches as a ski patroller with tree well considerations and most recently was the attending paramedic for a victim of deep loose snow asphyxiation.

Although tree well entrapment and deep snow immersions may seem very similar to avalanches, there are many differences. Understanding them can help us in our considerations for these events. The difference lies in how the events unfold. The type of deep snow immersion would be the difference. In an avalanche, the snow becomes consolidated the moment it stops moving. It sets up like concrete and encapsulates any subjects as a solid medium. This will, in some sense, protect the victim from the cold in the atmosphere and sometimes create an air pocket that may preserve the victim for a limited time. Another major difference is the tendency for avalanches to cause major trauma, sweeping the subject into trees, rocks, and over cliff bands.

With the type of deep snow immersion we are discussing here, the snow is loose, unconsolidated, and acts more like a liquid than a solid. Although there is less likelihood of trauma, there are a few things working against the victim. Not to say all hope is lost, but things are subject to chance, as with all of these accidents.

Of these factors, the loose snow makes it very difficult for the victim to right themselves once they are subject to the situation. Victims are often inverted and face down. With the lack of firmness to the snow, it may be more likely for the victim to inhale and suck loose snow into their airway, like a liquid.

Because the snow is loose, there is less protection from the cold; it is less insulating. With an avalanche, it is noted that it may take up to an hour for the victim to become hypothermic. This hour timeline may not be relevant in loose snow immersion.

Lastly it has been noted that victims of unconsolidated snow immersions have succumbed to asphyxiate effects very quickly, as little as 4 min. Where as in avalanche involvement victims with an air pocket can last long enough for the effects of

We all look forward to powder days. They are truly magical. The consideration of using a snorkel may have real validity. But, the best approach is stay close and play in your zone of abilities.