An avalanche on Mailbox Peak

The event

The steep hike went fairly well, except for a strong wind at times. At 2500' it started raining or dropping sloppy glop from the trees, but by 3000' there was only a very light snowfall. Much of the trail was protected from the winds. Eventually we broke out of the trees and slogged up in sometimes deep powder, sometimes nearly bare crust, up to the base of the boulder field. Here the wind was howling. We tried climbing up it for a way, but decided it was too deep and windy for the dog, and headed to the left to go through the trees. Eventually the trees gave way to an open slope (about 30 degree angle), which had deep wind-blown powder on it. Carol decided to turn around here with the pup, and started descending to a big tree to wait. With me in the lead, Ann and Bob followed.

Not more than a few steps up the slope, I saw a small flow of snow coming down the slope. Within a second, the entire width of the slope was avalanching towards us. It didn't look too deep, and my first thought was "oh, there's a small avalanche." Nonetheless, I yelled "AVALANCHE!". Not worried in the slightest, I turned and said "RUN!". I had no idea which way to run -- we were 30-50' from the trees, and much farther from the sides of the slope. However, I had no concern as I thought the fine powder would just wash around our legs.

Suddenly I found myself head first sliding down hill, totally out of control. I could see nothing, but may have closed my eyes. I don't recall if I was on my back or chest. The sensation of speed was really disturbing, and I remembered the trees we had just left. All I could think was "I'm going to hit a tree head first and get really hurt." I slid down for what seemed like an eternity, but never hit anything. I remembered about halfway down that you should 'swim' to keep afloat. There was no way to do that as I was totally out of control. I knew I was going to get buried next. Sure enough, I came to a stop with my mouth full of snow.

The panic set in -- I couldn't breathe properly. I was on my back, with my head down hill. My throat was partially full of snow. My legs could barely move, nor my arms. I choked out "HELP!", and my throat burned with a small amount of bile. It was all I could do to yell once or twice with all the snow in my mouth. "HELP ME!" ... I heard Carol frantically saying Bob was buried. "Hey, I'm buried too," I thought, as I could not move my feet, and barely move my hands. I was trapped by the pack straps and I was choking. I didn't know if my head was above the snow or not, and didn't know if another avalanche would do me in for good. At least I hadn't hit a tree. I tried to calm down to save oxygen. But I also started a mighty struggle to get free my legs and arms.

After hearing the initial "AVALANCHE" yell, Carol (who was near the bottom of the slope) grabbed the dog and tried to get behind a nearby tree. But the flow knocked Carol down and the two rolled at least three times in the flow. Somehow, Carol wasn't buried much and quickly squirmed out, perhaps with some help from the dog.

Carol yelled for all of us, but didn't hear any response back. Frantically, Carol raced around and saw B's feet sticking out of the snow, but nothing else showing. Carol immediately started pawing at the snow in a desperate attempt to extricate Bob. She could hear him moaning. Carol had no idea where Ann was, but saw me face up in the snow and figured I was going to be up and helping at any moment. It looked futile to get Bob out of there by herself, and then she heard me yell "HELP!".

Carol had to make a tough choice: keep digging out someone in obvious trouble, or help me. Two can dig quicker than one, and I was yelling for help, so anxious to make meaningful progress, Carol stomped through the deep snow to help me. Carol frantically cleared my face, while in a near-panic said Bob was buried.

My pack was holding me down, and I couldn't get free. Carol's hands were very cold, and had a really tough time finding my waist belt clip, then finally unclipping it. Carol unbuckled the chest strap, and loosened the shoulder straps as much as possible, but I was still caught. I lurched upwards mightily, worrying about the time elapsing, but it didn't work. My straps held me in really strongly. Somehow, we freed up my left elbow and I finally wriggled out. I could only guess it took 3-5 minutes from the time the avalanche stopped until now. Whew, I'm OUT!

Now to get to action -- I can help at last! I quickly got my pack and fumbled for what seemed like a long time to disconnect my shovel, get it free, and connect it back together. I could hear Bob groaning. I dug like crazy with the shovel. I remember at one point Carol, in her panic, stopped helping, and I yelled "DON'T STOP!", not realizing her backpack was restricting the digging. She quickly removed her pack and resumed pawing away snow. In a few minutes we freed an area around his face and one hand. His body was against a 4 inch tree, and seemed bent backwards. Was he badly injured? I kept digging while Carol cleared the snow better around his face, so he could breathe. The moaning had stopped, and he wasn't moving.

During the avalanche, Ann started running too. Immediately she was knocked down and found herself zooming downhill headfirst, on her chest. All she could see was snow all around here. She worried about hitting a tree also. Sure enough, she hit several branches and sticks in the snow, and perhaps some small trees too. But somehow she didn't get hurt really badly. She ended up with her head well out of the snow, both legs spread wide at a funny angle and twisted, and one arm deep into the snow. Those three limbs were totally stuck as the snow hardened like concrete around here. Her one free hand had the mitten and ski pole ripped off during the avalanche. She tried to scoop the snow away from a leg as we worked on Bob, but made little progress. Her hand was so cold she put it in her jacket to warm up. Nonetheless, she was strangely calm and relaxed about the whole thing. The puppy wandered up there and Ann was hopelessly licked with little means to defend herself (had to put in a little comic relief!)

Meanwhile, poor Bob had also been knocked down. He never lost his poles. He slid down in the terrible jumble of snow and ended up immobile except for his two feet, which he claims to have wiggled continuously. The snow was like concrete for him, too, and he was sealed in a frozen tomb. He figured that his end had come, said his prayers and prepared to die. He tried hard to arch his back, but could not budge at all, and passed out due to lack of oxygen.

Oh no! Where's the shovel! Bob's still under too much... I thought our pawing had buried the shovel. I pawed away frantically trying to find it, but to no avail. Did it slip... no... how could it slide, as I had set it down carefully! It MUST be under this snow. Somehow, I looked around in my first real panic of the event. There it was, downhill 30 feet! I raced down to get it, raced back up and continued the frantic digging. He was a good 3' under and I had cleared away quite a wall upslope. Would it collapse on him? Hurry! It is impossible to describe the urgency, the panic, the helpless feeling...

Finally we freed him. Whew! He's moving at least... and he revived very quickly. We got his pack off and helped him up. I was really worried he had injured his back. Carol had him sit quietly in a safe place while I raced up to extract Ann with the shovel. She had three limbs buried, only one hand free. Her leg was twisted badly and she had a bruise, but extracting her wasn't too hard with the shovel. Fortunately, she never felt particularly in danger during the entire event.

Photos taken a week later

We all grouped behind a large tree to catch our wits. I asked if anyone was cold. No, all were fine. A had a twisted knee and walked with some difficulty, but Bob seemed fine. All I could think was "we gotta get outta here," and after checking that all were OK and doing a bit of consoling to some pretty shaken-up folks, we went back to retrieve some stuff from the snow pile. Bob really wanted his poles, and we found both. I bent one of them taking it out. (It finally broke partway down the trail.) My ice ax and half-sized ski pole were missing, as well as both of Ann's poles and her missing mitten/wind cover.

We started down the hill, staying in the trees. At one point, we got to a small open slope but decided not to go that way. There were some small cracks in the snow, and even though it was probably safe, we took the conservative route. I finally decided to put a stretch bandage around Ann's knee and we gave her two poles and the snowshoes. It was a long trip down, with Ann having to slide down the slushy, slippery, rooted trail in many sections. We had to put on headlamps partway down. I kept urging the team to keep moving as I worried the event would suddenly "set in" and somebody would freak out. We just wanted to be home... and hours later, after dark, everybody was home, safe and sound.

Analysis

The avalanche report

I had read the previous day's avalanche report before we left, which sounded somewhat OK below 5000'. However, when I got home, the current day's report wasn't as good (I've only included relevant paragraphs):

0900 AM PST Thursday, December 24, 1998

ZONE AVALANCHE FORECASTS..... WASHINGTON CASCADES. . . .OLYMPICS. . . .


Increasing avalanche danger Thursday becoming high above 5000 feet and
considerable below by afternoon.  Avalanche danger remaining high above
5000 feet and considerable below through early Christmas Day. gradually
decreasing.  Further increasing danger later Christmas remaining high
above 4 to 5000 feet and considerable below through Friday night.

SNOWPACK ANALYSIS.........

Increasing snow early Thursday and increasing ridgetop winds have
deposited some 4 to 6 inches of new snow over most areas by Thursday
morning.  This new snow has fallen on either weak recrystallized snow,
small surface hoar, intact stellar crystals or a smooth and hard crust.
In an case, the new snow is now loading the underlying weak snow or is
weakly bonded to the crust, causing widespread but relatively small
natural avalanches, mainly above about 5000 feet where stronger winds
are present.  While these slab avalanches may be relatively shallow and
break up quickly, backcountry travelers should avoid steep open slopes,
especially above terrain traps such as cliffs, rocks or trees.  In most
areas the smooth hard near surface crust, now buried some 4 to 10
inches below the surface, should provide a slick sliding surface for
avalanches to release on.  On steeper slopes, it may be extremely
difficult to arrest a fall or stop if caught in a small slide. It
should be noted that the recent cold temperatures and the very strong
temperature gradient in the upper snowpack has continued to cause
recrystallization or faceting of the snow layers near or just above the
crust.  This process has also been gradually weakening the crust
itself, mainly at higher elevations where the crust was thinner.
Recent snowpit data over the past two days has confirmed this,
indicating that weak lower density snow exists to near a foot below the
crust.  This structure should cause a significantly increasing danger
when loaded with wind deposited snow or higher density snowfall
expected over the next few days.  Avalanches which begin sliding on the
crust may break below the crust and entrain significant weak snow
below, resulting in more substantially dangerous avalanches.
Backcountry travelers should use extreme caution, especially in areas
receiving more significant new snow and wind transported snow.  The
greatest danger is expected to develop on mainly northeast through east
facing slopes along the west slopes.

Lessons learned

We should have checked Bob for breathing and pulse, and extracted any snow from inside his mouth as soon as practical. I'm sure we would have if he had not started moving. We also should have checked everybody over carefully for any injuries he may not have noticed. And perhaps forced more clothes on him. We were concerned that we were in a bad place, and he did recover very quickly, both which made us think we didn't need to worry too much.

Survival tips in an avalanche include grabbing a rock or tree, digging in ax or ski pole, swimming, making a breathing space, etc. From my experience, these are nice in theory, but you have no time to think. You just survive. I did think to swim, after sliding through half the avalanche path. By that time I was moving so fast, that I just mentally prepared for hitting a tree headfirst.

In a climbing emergency, there are 7 steps to take when an injury occurs:

1. Take charge of the situation
   I took the initiative to take charge, even while partially buried. I knew that I had the shovel, and that Ann was ok but Bob was buried. I hope Ann, Bob, and Carol don't mind but I was a bit aggressive about commands and action. I think this worked well as otherwise it was just panic and frantic action. For some reason, I never got an adrenaline rush that impaired my thinking.
2. Approach the patient safely
   All we could do is dig Bob out as fast as possible without gouging him with the shovel. We had to extract him, and we just hoped no more avalanches would occur. We were at least 30' into the trees, and felt somewhat safe there. We did similarly for Ann.
3. Perform emergency rescue and urgent first aid
   We dug Bob out quickly and scooped the snow from his face. We also did this for Ann later. The only first aid administered was the elastic bandage on Ann's knee.
4. Protect the patient
   We moved them to a safer area behind a tree, and had them stay quietly until the situation seemed stable.
5. Check for other injuries
   I was very concerned for Bob's back, which turned out to be ok. I was less concerned about Ann's knee but was worried about getting down quickly. In retrospect, we should have done a head-to-toe check of all four of us.
6. Plan what to do
   I figured we needed to get off the mountain as quickly as possible before shock set in, or an injury proved to be worse, or the event freaked out a team member. I was on autopilot and figured I'd be quite bothered about it later. For now, I just wanted to get us all home! We needed a safe route, which we stuck too.
7. Carry out the plan
   I was a bit hard-nosed about keeping moving down the slippery trail. A's knee was problematic, but we kept moving. Still, we didn't get out until 6pm. Fortunately, we all had headlamps. That trail is very steep, and difficult and slippery on descent. But we managed to get out ok.

• We did not recognize the wind-blown slabs.
• We did not recognize the classic slope angle that is highly susceptible to avalanche.
• We did not recognize the warming weather, even though it was raining below.
• We did not spread out, one at a time, on the open slope.
• Every party member should have snow shovels and avalanche probe.
• We should have had avalanche transceivers and the proper training and proficiency to use them.
• I had a case of "summit fever". We all should have turned around when the whole party was not able to continue. Mailbox Peak just isn't worth it!

We were incredibly lucky

• One person was buried so slightly that she could help extract another quickly.
• We weren't all exactly together when the slab broke free.
• Nobody hit a tree really hard.
• B's leg was out of the snow, and was easy to find.
• The person with the one shovel wasn't buried too deeply.
• We had a shovel! (We should have had more though!!)
• I'm so glad that dog was there, otherwise all four of us may have been immobilized.

In summary, before the avalanche we ignored some basic warning signs. After the avalanche we performed closely to the way we were trained. While the event was a really close call, we all came out of it ok, except for some pretty nasty bruises that Ann received. We were damned lucky. I recommend that anyone considering going into this type of terrain take an avalanche course, pay attention to weather and avalanche reports and current conditions, and take proper equipment.