After the avalanche

Knowledge the key to surviving in backcountry terrain

Tiny, round pellets of snow pelted our helmets as we made our way Tuesday up the road to Red Meadow Lake.

Trees loaded with heavy snow were toppled onto the road, and the crooked tops of trees poked above the snow in avalanche paths from earlier in the winter. As we got closer to Red Meadow Lake - the site of an avalanche that killed two snowmobilers on Saturday - I wondered if those snowmobilers had any idea of what lay before them that fateful day while traveling this same road.

We stopped on the road to discuss how we'd cross an upcoming avalanche path. We talked briefly about the snow conditions, then made our way, one by one, across a section of the road that crossed the path.

Meanwhile, a second group of snowmobilers approached us from the rear. None of these men were carrying any avalanche-rescue gear, including shovels, probe poles or transceivers, and demonstrated a bravado that would be out-of-place even if this were not the site of a recent tragedy.

"I've got a lot more things to do before I die of old age," one snowmobiler said before hitting the throttle and gunning across the avalanche path.

We encountered the same group of snowmobilers later at Red Meadow Lake, a high-mountain roadside lake on the divide between the North Fork and the Whitefish Range.

The western side of the small lake had a dimpled surface of snow-covered lumps. This side of the lake was farthest from the path of the avalanche which swept down from Red Meadow Peak, carrying car-sized chunks of rocks, trees and ice onto the lake, then pushed across the lake approximately 1,000 yards to the road that parallels the lake.

It was here, in the epicenter of the avalanche path, that Christopher Schmalz, 21, was buried. His snowmobile is still there, covered with a few inches of fresh snow in the hole searchers had dug. The handlebars and windshield were still visible about 10 feet below the surface.

Our group, which included Fred Dietrich of Valhalla Backcountry Adventures, picked its way across the detritus of the avalanche toward the far edge of the lake. We walked on a moonscape of house-sized chunks of ice, being careful not to slip into the blue crevasses and keeping an eye on the west side of Red Meadow Peak, which still had not slid. Frozen water from the lake was pushed nearly 30 feet up the trees that ringed the lake.

Above us, about 1,000 feet, you could see the distinct edge where the avalanche had fallen from the steep rock face, then tore through the buck brush before hitting the lake. The swath was about 250 yards across as it came down the mountain, but when it hit the lake the debris scattered to every edge of the small, oval-shaped lake.

We came upon the spot where Danelle Bloom, 22, met her final fate on Saturday afternoon. You could see where her snowmobile had been buried, only about 10 feet from where survivor Dan Kenfield, 30, was rescued.

Just 20 yards to the east was untouched powder snow.

She was that close to safety when the side of the peak literally fell on her and her companions.

We paused at that place for quite a while, just thinking about how close we really are to the edge when we're in the backcountry. Twenty yards away and Danelle Bloom would likely be alive.

She was not wearing an avalanche transceiver. Kenfield was, and he was rescued by another group of snowmobilers who followed the signal to find him.

If Bloom had been wearing an avalanche beacon, would the rescuers have been able to find her?

Would they have been able to remove her from the solid chunks of ice?

That's not known.

Her body, and that of Schmalz, were recovered the following day.

AT THE OTHER end of the lake, meanwhile, the second group of snowmobilers sat on their sleds in the

direct path of what will be the next avalanche to come off of Red Meadow Peak.

Did they not realize what danger they were in?

Did they think they could outrun the avalanche if the next slide came down while they were there?

Perhaps it's this edge of danger that we seek in the backcountry. We know that at any given time our worlds can change dramatically when nature changes course. But to go into this natural world entirely unprepared and uneducated about the consequences seems foolhardy.

Although I've been a backcountry skier and snowmobiler for more than 25 years, I bought my first avalanche transceiver only an hour before driving to Olney and jumping on a snowmobile to investigate the avalanche. Dietrich about slapped me when I told him this.

But now I've changed over. I've made the transition from ignorant backcountry user to someone who truly wants to learn about the natural winter environment that poses so much danger.

Unfortunately it takes avalanches, near-misses and accidents to get people's attention.

Ted Steiner was among the group that recovered the bodies last Sunday. Although he's well-versed in avalanche knowledge, last week's avalanche had him a bit baffled.

Conditions were ripe for slides, but he couldn't figure out the way the slide acted when it hit the lake.

"It was just really traumatic on the entire lake," Steiner said. "It was a natural phenomenon that's pretty difficult to understand."

Steiner is a top-level instructor for the Glacier Country Avalanche Center, an organization that leads education and safety courses in Northwest Montana.

While he's been an avalanche-education instructor for many years, he's still trying to figure out how to get through to people - how to get their attention on at least knowing the basics of winter backcountry travel.

Recently, Steiner said, there has been a lot more discussion on what is the best way to teach backcountry users about avalanche danger. "Is the three-hour clinic the way to go, or are you just telling them enough to be dangerous?" Steiner said. "How do you educate somebody so they can go out and make good decisions in variable terrain?"

Wanting the knowledge is the first step.

Dietrich, who owns a backcountry snowcat operation that's only a few miles from Red Meadow Lake, is adamant about education. He considers it the only and best tool against the odds that are stacked highly against you.

"There's a lot of knowledge out there, and the more people who have it, the safer we all are," Dietrich said.

Snowmobilers, unfortunately, have a harder time than skiers being able to assess conditions as they travel because they can go from aspect to aspect "within seconds," Dietrich said.

This weekend the avalanche center will have a series of free clinics on avalanche safety and equipment at Big Mountain. The clinics will discuss the basics of avalanche safety, including the use of transceivers and probe poles.

But just having the equipment isn't the only defense. Know how to use it, but also know when not to enter avalanche terrain, Dietrich said.

"All these things are just crutches and tools," he said. "Your best asset is your brain."

Even with the knowledge you acquire in a class, nature may present dangers that the most highly skilled avalanche expert cannot outrun.

The same day that the Red Meadow Lake avalanche killed two people, a guide for Island Lake Lodge near Fernie, B.C., was killed.

So far this year, four people have died in avalanches in Montana. Two snowmobilers were killed in separate incidents Jan. 5 and Jan. 6 near Cooke City. A total of 12 people have died in avalanches in the United States this winter; two have died in Canada.

There have been other close calls. On Jan. 5, a snowmobiler triggered an avalanche that buried two people near Wolverine Lake on the Kootenai National Forest. A third snowmobiler at the bottom of the avalanche path was able to escape the oncoming debris by riding out of danger. Only one of the three snowmobilers was equipped with a transceiver, shovel and probe pole.

The two snowmobilers were buried six and 10 feet under the snow, but they survived, according to Steiner's report at www.glacieravalanche.org.

Just looking at the spot where Bloom's body was retrieved highlighted the fact that chance plays a huge part in backcountry travel. She was so close to being outside the avalanche path.

"I really had a hard time with that," Dietrich said. "That bothered me a lot."

On the Net:

www.avalanche.org; www.glacieravalanche.org