When the Earth Moved

I just got back from an amazing two weeks of skiing in western Canada. Getting there and returning had some challenges but that's a story for another day. Likewise the experience of skiing at a mountain lodge only accessible by helicopter is another incredible experience worthy of a detailed account. I'll save that for later too. What I want to tell you about now is that instant during a sunny, blue sky day on a backcountry slope in the Purcell Mountains when the earth moved.

I know the avalanche danger has been high this winter in the mountains of western North America. There have been record numbers of slides and deaths because of an unstable snow pack. The first day we arrived by chopper at this luxurious lodge situated in a beautiful alpine meadow, 7,200 feet above sea level, we all received the mandatory instruction in avalanche rescue. We learned how to wear and use the avalanche beacons. We practiced using the device to search for a victim buried under the snow. Our guides showed us the proper way to use the probes to poke through the snow and how to dig out around the buried person using our collapsible snow shovels. We were told how to locate the victims head and work at freeing his breathing passages. This is the same routine training people receive when they enter the backcountry, either to go heliskiing or like us, attaching skins to our skis and climbing into alpine areas using our own power. Nobody ever thinks they're going to need the training. That would be a wrong assumption.

On our second day at the lodge we headed out early for a full day in the backcountry. The sun burned our faces as we climbed through the trees to a higher elevation. This one particular slope was steep at the top, about a 30 degree pitch, steep enough to avalanche but then it quickly flattened out. That proved to be a good thing. There were six of us in the group and two guides. I skied down last because I was shooting video of the others making turns through the untracked powder. Everyone else had skied down and stopped on a ridge just out of my sight but they could all see me. I put the camera in my pack and started down the slope. My first turn was to the left and I could see two large fracture lines in the snow. I thought to myself that doesn’t look good. As I initiated my next turn something didn’t feel right. I looked down and saw the snow under my skis cracking and swirling. I glanced sideways and saw that I was moving down the slope along with all the snow. I instantly knew I was caught in an avalanche and I got scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen, especially to a maritimer on his first backcountry expedition into the big mountains. Fortunately the slide was short lived. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I can’t remember hearing any sound either. Luckily I was at the edge of the slide and skied off to the side toward some trees. The moving snow covered my downhill ski and tried to pull it down but I managed to shake it loose and ski away. As quickly as the slide had started it ended. Everything was silent and I was fine. I couldn’t see the others down the slope and didn’t know whether to yell for help or just get out of there as quickly as possible. In the end I skied down as fast as I could keeping well away from the avalanche. When I joined the others I realized they had seen the whole thing and were more concerned about my welfare than I probably was. The guides told me I did exactly what I should have done by skiing out of the avalanche. Believe me, it was an easy decision to make.


We all went back to examine the slide. The guides called it a level one slab avalanche caused by a persistent weak layer of snow. They even knew the day it formed back in February. The slope slid for about 60 feet and left a debris pile over a meter high. This was a small avalanche and there was no danger of being buried in it but I could have twisted an ankle or worse if I’d gotten caught up in the mess at the bottom. Our guides measured the slide, dug in the snow and took photographs. It was an excellent opportunity for them to study an avalanche close up.

Leaving the area we had to traverse across a steep slope with overhanging cornices. We did it one at a time to minimize avalanche exposure. After my experience I was understandably shaken a little and surprised by how quickly I skied across that slope. I think it was the fastest I’d moved all day.

That night the guides presented me with a special drink made up of a number of different liquors and topped off with a mountain of whipped cream. They called it appropriately the ‘Avalanche’. I drank and enjoyed it, thankful that I was there and able to.

It was a small slide but a gigantic eye opener for me and the others in our party including the guides. The risk of avalanche is always there in backcountry alpine areas and has to be taken seriously.

Last Snows of the Season

We made it back after 6 days of backcountry skiing in the Chic Choc Mountains of Gaspe. The trip this year was as wonderful as in past years although the snow wasn’t what we expected. Even late in March in these mountains, you can find powder. Not this time. Warm temperatures and rain made it’s way even up to the 4,000-foot level and created hard packed and icy conditions. But the warm temperatures, sunshine, fabulous vistas and companionship of good friends made up for it.

As I mentioned in the last post, we stayed in a hut that used to be part of a mining operation. It’s about 2,500 feet up and surrounded by mountains. We skied the 12 kilometres into the hut while a snowmobile brought our food and most of our gear. The accommodations were basic but comfy. Unlike most huts in the park, this one had electricity so that meant a fridge and stove and most important, a hot water heater. The shower was appreciated by all of us.

When you go on these trips you basically ski, eat and sleep. Our days were full. One morning we headed off on a trail to another cabin 10 km away. A bit of new snow had fallen overnight and that made the trail conditions better than expected. There was a lot of up and down and the return 20 km trip tired us all out. Being in the mountains the idea is to ski up to the top and the hard pack snow known as ‘boiler plate’ made it a challenge this year. We used skins on our skis to get a grip on the snow but often needed to dig in our metal edges to stop from sliding off the trail. The trip along the switchback, up the headwall surrounding our hut takes about 45 minutes. We went up twice and spent part of one day playing in the plateau at the top. It’s a vast area of rolling hills and snow covered stunted trees that remind me of a fairyland.

Another highlight of the trip was an avalanche chute we discovered near the cabin. From top to bottom it provided us a ski run about the size of Poley Mountain. We skinned up part way and skied down on our heavier telemark skis. The warm spring sun softened the snow nicely every afternoon. The avalanche team came by every couple of days to check conditions and told us the snow around us was stable and safe. The burning sun was probably the most dangerous thing we encountered and had to repeatedly smother out faces with sun block. We all came back with a tan.

I could go on about the trip but suffice it to say that the Chic Choc area of Gaspe is a special place and one that I return to every winter. We left winter and snow behind when we came home. The skiing is over for another season. It’s time to move on to other things and there is plenty to do here in the River Valley.