Napolean Spur Avy Debrief Video 25.9mgs

Stevie and I had skied Rogers Pass Sunday and Monday, heeding the avalanche bulletin closely. The strange phenomenon of the tree line being more dangerous than the alpine was in place, so we skied conservatively up Connaught Creek. The bulletin described the February 4th surface hoar layer as “reactive to human triggering” and preserved below tree line. I had skied The Pass during the high pressure system that helped form the surface layer, and was personally aware of the size and depth of the layer.






2 days passed with Stevie and I becoming more and more confident in the area we were skiing around Ursula’s Trees. We skied a southern aspect and stuck to the gladed trees since the visibility in the alpine was non-existent. We shredded some of the deepest snow I can remember and the whole time it just didn’t stop snowing. We ski-cut everything we came across and only ever observed storm snow instabilities and slough, and as a consequence enjoyed steep pillow lines and treed chutes.

The “Permit” areas were locked down so we bailed to Golden to ski Kicking Horse for a few days in the hope that some things would open and we wouldn’t have to ski the same uber-deep trees when we returned to Rogers Pass.

I should mention too, that Kicking Horse was off the hook with the second day gracing us with bluebird skies and deep pow. We were keen to not have to cross any tracks though so headed back up to Rogers Pass on Thursday.






CAA Bulletin 22nd February

The Bulletin persisted with the deep surface hoar layer that was now buried 40-100cm deep below tree line. The permit areas were open though and the general consensus was that Napoleon Spur would be a good bet. It was south facing and offered options to ski safely, and most likely, amazing snow. It is still tree skiing though and that was were all the action had been taking place on the Feb 4th surface hoar layer.

We parked a truck and inspected the run from the highway and noticed a few fractures in the lower portion of the run where the trees weren’t so tight. Brandon was reasonably familiar with the run and knew of some features that we would want to avoid. Generally though, we were all pretty stoked on we had planned and were eager to get some face shots.

After de-skinning at treeline, we ski-cut some unsupported features and got them to react, so we poked around until we got down into the trees and away from the gully. We popped out in an amazing pillow zone and took advantage to film some short lines in great snow. I dropped a pillow line, face shots all the way down and landed in bottomless pow. The skiing was amazing. I skied over to where the 2 others were waiting and turned around to watch Scott come down. He skied a very similar line to mine, but when he dropped one pillow, he triggered the entire rib to avalanche. The slab was ~70cm deep and slide on the surface hoar layer that we all knew was there. He wasn’t caught in it, but it was a big serious sign that we were in complex avalanche terrain.






We continued poking our way down to where we needed to traverse to the right to avoid an existing slide path. From the other side of the trees we could see the Highway and had a small opening in the trees that provided a straight shot down. Brandon said, “There are no safe zones on this pitch,” and we all took note and watched him drop in.

Even after reading the Bulletin, observing and triggering an avalanche and knowing there was no safe zone, we collectively decided to ski the open trees. Brandon skied a few turns and stopped to point out some pillows. He skied off again and then….






Shit hit the fan.

The three of us above watched as the snow cracked and spider-webbed, before taking off. Brandon turned to hear our shouts and you could see the look in his eyes as he saw the whole slope coming down on top of him. The only reasonably safe zone, a small knoll, was just below him and he aimed for that, but the slide had too much momentum and dragged him over and out of our sight.

I remember moving to try to get a visual on him, but he had rolled over and we couldn’t see the track of the avalanche. We all moved down onto the bed surface tentatively and tried to look again, but nothing. I don’t even know if I could see the debris piled up at the bottom for the distance it had traveled and the flat light. We switched to “Receive” and I began skiing down the track of the avalanche while Scott and Stevie got their shovels and probes out.

Skiing down waiting to hear the first faint beep, I remember fearing the worst and wondering how I would break the news to his family. I distinctly remember that, and it petrified me.

The avalanche had run ~300m and therefore I wasn’t getting a signal for a very long time. I began calling out and luckily I heard him on the other side of a rib of trees.

Brandon had been swept over the knoll, but been able to wrestle to his feet and traverse to the left, which proceeded to bulldoze him down a gully, but not drag him to the bottom and bury him in debris. I traversed over to him and found him standing up with a grin on his face, pretty stoked to be alive. I was just relieved and I know the others were also. The shame and embarrassment hadn’t set in yet.

Brandon lost his skis, poles, toque and goggles, but was lucky that was all he lost.






In the aftermath, it was a good experience to have had. I remember when I was skiing down and couldn’t get a signal, I began to wonder if I was doing things correctly. I realized though that I knew what I was doing and was good at it. The only I reason I knew that, was because I had practiced. I had taken the time early season to take my transceiver, bury a friend’s, start the stopwatch, and go find it. Knowing I had done that felt good. It gave me confidence in the heat of the moment and allowed me to relax, gather my thoughts and think things through. Apart from the lesson that avalanches do happen, are scary and that the trees aren’t always the safest zones, realizing the value of being able to use my transceiver was the biggest lesson I learnt.

We reported the incident to the park warden and I felt pretty ashamed that it had happened. We all did, but talking to the wardens, their sentiment was that we were, to a degree, unlucky. I shook my head at this- the Bulletin informed us of the surface soar and how it was reacting, we saw it for ourselves, and had enough experience to know better. Their reply was that other people had been skiing similar aspects at similar elevations, like Stevie and I had earlier in the week, and were getting no results. That was fair enough, but it further highlighted the danger and variability of the Feb 4th surface hoar layer. That layer is still reactive to this day and will continue to be.

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So, we all know avalanches happen and know of stories of them happening and pretend that we learnt from them, but do we really? By just being out there, you are putting yourself at risk, but most injuries or fatalities are caused by human triggered avalanches.

But what causes humans to trigger avalanches? In large part I think psychology. We become powder hunger (I know were suffered a bit of that), we forget the mistakes we and others have made and then think it only happens to other people. We push the limits and get away with it, and that in turn breeds confidence. Or we don’t know enough to make our own decisions. That being said, we all knew enough to know we shouldn’t have skied that slope, and that brings me back to psychology. You are not immortal and it sure can happen to you.