Winter of Woes: 2011/2012

Photo: Todd Glew remotely triggering a slab on depth hoar while a few boarders look on. After the storm cycle started to kick in, early January 2012.

I started off the winter great; with 16 days surfing and exploring the rainforests of Costa Rica.

 I was counting on course leading a Level 1 within a few days of returning to the states. When our season didn’t kick off very quickly with snowfall, I figured it would only be a matter of time. I was stoked to be in Utah reuniting with friends, meeting new ones, and the postponed course gave me more time to get extra prepared with the curriculum.

A few weeks passed, and we made the best of the skiing. One storm dropped 6-8 inches at best, and continued high pressure dominated as an inversion caused a thick layer of smog that made living in the Salt Lake City valley feel like an industrial wasteland.  Skies never lit up down there, but meanwhile up high, the sun shone brightly. When we had to flat out cancel that same course from its postponed date, I was bummed.

I got lucky with a few days of guiding work. A family from Georgia was excited after a day of top rope ice climbing, and planned on going again the following day for a multi-pitch classic. When temperatures overnight never hit freezing, and I awoke to a steady rain in the morning, it had to be called off in the name of safety. Making the call was tough, as it usually seems at the time. I really needed the money, but climbing wasn’t a wise decision that day. There was an opportunity to recoup the outing the following day, but the low temp was forecast to barely hit freezing, and a high of 48 put the big picture into focus.

Our thin snowpack now consists of an ice crust overlying extremely weak, advanced facets.

When I saw Scott's name come up on the phone, I realized he was ringing to give the bad news. Another avalanche course cancellation, or thinking strongly of it. Scott had recently called Tom Murphy and Brian Lazar to ask their opinion. Supposedly around 70% of course providers had been straight up cancelling courses. Others, trying to eke out an existence, continued to run courses.

So I got to thinking… What is it you need for an avalanche Level 1 course?

Can it be done all in the classroom, with videos of formal snowpit tests, videos of “on the fly” tests, videos and powerpoints galore?! Certainly some things can be shown on video. Even with the best of conditions and the best of course venues, sometimes folks may just grasp that concept, test, or technique a bit stronger if they see it first on the big screen, and then shown it once again out in the field.

But the “avalanche terrain” part of “decision making in avalanche terrain” states the blunt truth, we teach in the field, and we need to get them in the field. I’m sure most avalanche educators have contrived something or other in the field before, just think of a rescue scenario or an example of skiing one at a time to cross an avalanche path when there is simply not enough snowpack to run full track. The previous makes for good habits, right? So a slightly more contrived experiential field day is not such a bad thing. 

Another option is to do as follows; with a willing group you may be able to teach the classroom portion and the first field day consisting of rescue and formal snowpit demonstrations. The second day, the “experiential tour” may be scheduled for later in the season. One downfall to this plan is the lack of continuity during a course. Will students actually remember all those things from the first field day and all those power points? Nope, they don’t anyway. So it is a slightly different experience. You could ask them to come in early and the instructors can give a quick refresher just to help their minds get back into the mode.

Of course the most import aspect that has to be strongly considered with a low snow year is safety. Rocks, stumps, branches and roots frequent the ground surface, and for a group out there skiing extremely weak snow, of whom many are beginner skiers, the decision to take that group on a tour is a big one. Warning of the hazards repeatedly may help, but it is inevitable that you get one or two agro skiers or boarders who grab all the speed that the hill and gravity will allow, only to cartwheel into an  outcrop of sharp rocks. They may get lucky and not hit anything. And you may get lucky, or maybe not.

When you know that roughly 70% of the community of educators are cancelling courses for all the same reasons, then a consensus has been reached. An unofficial standard. 

Bottom line is that we’re guides, and we make critical decisions all the time. When that decision ends with a much lighter paycheck, that decision is stressed a bit more. But we can’t let our wallets overcome good judgment and sound decision making in the name of client safety and client rewards.

Taking what I can get, it might be time to go for a rock climb!

Two weeks later… We had run our first avy course with White Pine Touring, and things began to look up. The snowpack was “historically weak” consisting of multiple layers of chained up facets. The models had been consistent at showing a large scale shift in the weather pattern, to a moist zonal flow with a number of embedded disturbances. It looked like the fire hose was about to be pointed on us, without the invisible shield of a strong high pressure to block it. Our next avy course was slated for the coming weekend, but the majority had bailed in hopes for skiing some lift accessed, in bounds deep powder. And another one bites the dust. The drought may have finally been over, but the effect of the winter of woes still leaves a dusty taste in my mouth.