"It's nice to play safe so we can keep playing," I said as I took one more step. Then CRACK!! My world collapsed. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!!!" was all that I could externalize. My internal monologue began as "I gotta grab hold of something! I gotta stop myself! Dammit! There's nothing!" and moved quickly to "I'm going to die right now. I can't believe I’m going to die right now. I can’t do this to my family."

Micro or macro avalanches are a part of every backcountry user's life, experienced or inexperienced. Sometimes even resort skiers get hit by this cold and deadly reality after making a quick choice to get in deep on the other side of the line. They get caught without gear, training or friends to save them.

No matter how you look at it, avalanches can be a life-taker, and at minimum they are a life-changing experience to all of those involved. Fortunately most incidents result in survival. With or without injuries, at the end of the day, living and breathing through the experience is a lot better than coming out cold and dead.






What follows is my personal account of being sucked into a class 2.5 avalanche. It is only because of ridiculously good luck and the grace of something bigger than me that am I here to tell my story.

I should have died that day given the factors involved. Before the avalanche happened, I had my RAC training and now I have my CAA Avalanche Level 1. More knowledge along with experience can make a life-saving difference.

December 27th 2005
I had been working pretty hard up until the holidays and was extremely relieved to have a good break. Pre-Christmas had given me some great days and now it was time to really get into it. On December 27th we headed out to Golden to ski Kicking Horse and check out some of the surrounding backcountry terrain. This had become the norm and was something that I approached with relative comfort.

I was always aware of the dangers; but after nearly a decade of nothing significant or severe happening directly to me or my friends, I felt quite comfortable. Too comfortable. I had a great day of inbounds skiing.






As usual after skiing, I hooked up with some friends over a couple beers and discussed options for the next day. I mentioned that the zone in question had always scared me a bit because it was big, frightening and dangerous terrain. (This also meant that it was exhilarating, fun and hugely satisfying.) If something were to slide in that zone, we’d be fucked. Little did I know that my words were an omen for things to come soon.

December 28th 2005
It was a beautiful day with mostly blue skies and a few clouds. The avi report indicated that the conditions were moderate to considerable in the alpine, depending largely on the terrain in question, early season snowpack, and the wind loading factors that affected these terrain features. Six of us headed out into the backcountry beyond the resort. It felt good to get the lungs going and heart pumping. It was just like so many other days heading to the same location.

Upon gaining the ridge of choice, Kris Tratner, Cody and Myself dropped onto a broad spine feature below the ridge and cornice to do a quick stability analysis. We left our gear on top, since our to-ski-or-not-to-ski decision was yet to be determined. My gear above me included my skis, backpack, and helmet. I was wearing my transceiver and it was transmitting.

Signs of instability were immediately apparent. The top layer of wind slab fractured off as we dropped down. This is pretty common; still, red flag number 2 when accompanied with the avi report. The early season had laid down some sketchy layers made more questionable by large temperature variances in the early season.

We saw rotten rain crust, hard ice crust and some grossly faceted layers in between. We got an easy compression test of 3 that caused settlement in the top 2 llayers. Then we got a moderate compression of about 12 or 13 (on the easy side) pretty much to the ground! That was it for us: time to get out of there and head back to the resort. A few seconds later, the day changed for everyone.






The thing about avalanches is that they are so dependent on micro factors. Putting yourself a couple feet on the wrong side of a terrain feature can be a deadly decision. I was just about to get slapped hard in the face with that reality.

One of our trio was already back on top of the ridge, so I started to boot my way up saying "It's nice to play safe so we can keep on playing". Famous last words.

The next step I took changed my world. I had put myself a few feet to the right of our safe feature, and that was a big, big mistake. Suddenly, the slope cracked above me, beneath me and in front of me. Within fractions of a second I was yelling, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!!!"

Scrambling, I tried to get hold of anything, tried to run, and was fighting for my life. I knew that if I was swept away with the slide, it was over for me. Picking up speed, I was gone. I accepted my death, then and there. There were no illusions. It was over. My days were done.

In moments like this, time slows down. Even then, I had only time for 3 thoughts.
1. I am going to die right now.
2. I can’t believe I’m going to die right now.
3. I can’t do this to my family.






As I gained momentum, I flipped myself around from facing the slope to looking fall line down the gauntlet. I knew that I was about to get swept over cliffs, bounced and broken off of rocks. It was almost like a waterslide from hell. As I got thrown over the first cliff band, I shattered my femur. Even over the deafening roar of the avalanche, I heard the ‘ping’ of the bone snap into pieces.

For a split second I could see again and then I was shot over the second cliff. Miraculously, I was still traveling on top of the snow. I knew I was now on the fan and had a real chance at living through this. So I tried to stand but was smacked onto my belly by more snow from behind. At that point I started swimming for my life to keep my head above. I knew that when the slide stopped that I would be stuck. As it was slowing, I tried in desperation to pull myself forward.

No such luck. I was buried facing downhill. By the grace of god, my head and right arm remained above the snow.

If my head had been buried, I would be dead. If my femur had been compounded (it was within millimeters of the skin) I would be dead. If my head or back smacked a rock- you get the point.

I yelled at first out of sheer joy of being alive. Secondly, I wiggled my fingers and toes to see if I was paralyzed. Thirdly, I screamed in pain for my broken femur. When my calls got no response, I didn't know if I was the only one alive. I immediately thought of the book "Touching the Void" and swore I was going to make it out alive even if I had to drag myself down the mountain.

It turns out no one in my group could see or hear me at first either. Fortunately, Kris Tranter, who was in our party, was on ski patrol and he had his radio on hand. Kris had miraculously avoided getting caught even though was right beside me. He dispatched patrol, who dispatched a heli. Right away, there were other patrols touring to me from the other side of the ridge in case the heli could not land. The rest of my party assessed different options to reach me but ended up triggering another slide. Once they knew I was still breathing and speaking, they did the right thing and waited for others to come to my aid safely.

During this time, I started to work myself out of the snow. It was a relatively shallow burial, but with only my head and right hand above snow, it was still a lot of work to dig out. The weather was starting to sock in and I watched in frustration as the heli flew right up to me and then had to turn away for lack of visibility.






About 15 anxious minutes later, a window opened up that allowed them to land. The relief and joy that coursed through my blood was immeasurable. I was able to look into the eyes of my rescuers and see compassion and concern. It’s hard to describe what it feels like to know that you are going to live and going to be ok. They rescue team worked quickly, checked all of my vitals, asked all of the right questions and then started to prepare me for the evacuation. I was given some heat packs and some painkillers and loaded onto the heli.

At the golden hospital they removed my boot, put in the catheter (not a pleasant experience. Just imagine getting a rubber tube stuffed into your pee hole) and stabilized me for transport to Calgary for surgery.

In the end I had a shattered femur and perforated femoral artery. I lost a lot of blood during surgery and needed a transfusion. There is still a massive chunk of bone directly underneath my skin, millimeters from penetrating it. It is a daily reminder to me of my good fortune.

I owe my life to the people who were involved with my rescue my group and able to get a rescue dispatched to me.

What Did I do wrong?
I got caught in an Avalanche. My mistake could have been avoided. The fact is, you don't need to do a lot wrong to get caught on the bad end of a slide. In my case, it was really just one lapse of judgment that put me in danger. Had I paid closer attention to the red flags in front of me, I would have started my climb back to the ridgeline in a different place. When I started to climb, I put myself too close to an exposed area. If I would have started climbing directly above our 'safe' spot, I may not have been swept away with the slide.

It is easy to let your guard down, its easy to get caught up in the moment. Looking at a line that you want to ski, blue skies, good friends, familiarity, these are all things that can contribute to the psychology of poor decisions. In my case, the reason I let my guard down was mainly based on familiarity and comfort. The fault came down to my own lack of judgement. I should have known better. Many who have been caught would say the exact same thing. Lucky for me, I'm still here and have learned from my experience. Don't be like me, or worse. Keep your level of awareness high, use good judgment, don't get sucked in by camaraderie and comfort.


Robin is back on feet, well sort of. He compound fractured his tib/fib (Shin) on Christmas eve skiing at Whistler when he hit a hidden ice chunk in Chainsaw. He is still ever upbeat and positive about life and now sells hot tubs in Vancouver. Seriously! He is busy building a hot tub empire and if you don't believe it, go check out Prestige Hot Tubs for yourself. He will be back on his feet and claims nothing will ever stop him skiing. Kudos to our man. Thanks for the account Scrim.