The White Death Page #2

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One snow flake is light

as a feather.

But the stealthy accumulation

of trillions can

form massive layers weighing

millions of pounds.

What triggers slides can only

be discovered

by digging into the snow pack.

Doug Fesler introduces

a group of students

to the deadly archeology

of a slab avalanche.

What kind of force

is it gonna take to rip it out?

That's all I really need to know.

First of all do I have a slab?

I'll start feeling here and

I feel resistance as I pull down.

It goes fairly hard to begin

with now it's starting to go going

a little easier.

A little more resistance again.

Right here a little bit easier.

Right through here is a crust layer.

Now it's very easy right in there.

Another shear plane possibly.

This is a nasty shear plane.

Look how this stuff just falls out

of here.

Shear planes allow colossal

avalanches to be set off

by the slightest disturbance.

We're corroborating the opinion

we have about the hardness

and weakness of

these various layers.

This stuff is so weak it...

just falls out.

Intermediate faceted snow.

The sugar snow.

More people have probably died

in the world as a result

of this weak layer than

any other weak layer there is.

These snow crystals can be

more dangerous than dynamite.

Fluctuations in temperature

cause some crystals

to lose cohesion

and become slippery.

These frozen ball bearings

allow everything above to slide.

Notice I have my hand ready

just in case.

Okay now we have a

free standing column.

Want to make sure the ski

is nice and vertical.

See how that came out just like

it's spring loaded?

By integrating all that

information together

there should be a picture flashing

in front of your mind.

And the picture is one of

the serious instability that exists

from a human triggered

point of view.

And so the message there is

to stay away

from steep leeward smooth slopes

because those are the ones that

are waiting to eat you.

What I want you to do is

on the count of three.

I want you to go. One. Two. Three.

Up in the air punch your heels

in real hard. Ready Banzai warriors?

One two three. Banzai!

An avalanche on the move

is a dynamic event,

a slab will rip out new slabs,

transforming, becoming ever larger,

and triggering billowing clouds

of powder.

Fortunately, nature can warn

of avalanches

with subtle sights and sounds.

But if you're hard blasting

a 130 horsepower vehicle

at 85 miles per hour,

it's unlikely that you'll hear

or see any of nature's warnings.

Snowmobiles can swiftly invade

the heart of avalanche country.

Riders enjoy jetting up

a steep incline as high as they can,

unwittingly teasing

a potential avalanche.

The game is called "high marking."

Whoever gets the highest wins.

These snowmobilers almost lost it

all one morning near Kellogg, Idaho

A friend videotaped the action as

a wall of snow came plunging down.

They would all escape unharmed

and spend the rest of the afternoon

tempting fate on other slopes.

But in January 1998,

three friends exhilarated by

a crisp clear day outside of Bend,

Oregon were not so lucky.

It was all virgin snow.

Everything was smooth and

just real billowy and soft looking.

And being the first one to make

the tracks is kind of a thrill.

That's where you really get your

adrenaline going

and just let the throttle do

what you can with the machine.

And we could get twenty or

thirty miles away

from anything and see country

see a lot of country in a day

that was nobody else was around.

The snow just looked like a big

a big pillow

it was just smooth

and soft looking.

When you got on it it would kind

of fall apart beneath you

because there was nothing holding

it from below.

Both Art and I looked at this

big clearing off to the right of us.

Art took a couple of stabs at

and I watched him go up the mountain

or go up the slope.

He must have gone up I don't know,

I'm guessing six seven eight times.

He came down and I decided to go up

and I got up on top and I got stuck.

At that point in time

I was pretty much stuck like this.

So I got off the low side of my sled

and pulled down on my front ski.

My machine just moved over me and

everything just started moving.

I was almost to the bottom getting

ready to turn around and go back up.

I just got a big push from behind

and snow dust everywhere.

And when the dust had gone down

enough I turned around.

The snowmobile

was buried to the seat

and my legs were

buried right along with it.

And I turned around

and I could see the ski

of Brian's snowmobile, but no Brian.

Buried alive, Brian has little more

than 30 minutes to live.

And when everything came to a stop

it just turned real dark.

My eyes couldn't focus on anything.

And I went into a

very frantic time frame.

After trying to get control

of the situation and just calm down,

I tried to move anything and

everything I possibly could.

I tried to move a finger

in my glove inside my glove

and I couldn't even do that.

And I ran up to where his

snowmobile was

and looked around

but I didn't see any sign of him.

It's about the most helpless feeling

you can have.

You know that there's somebody

that needs help

and you don't have any idea

where they are.

The snow was compressed

to my chin like this

I... I could move...

I felt my cheeks moving

and my eye, my eyelids.

I could only move my stomach inward.

I just screamed.

And after I calmed down

I just remember saying

"help me God."

And we kinda started digging just

with our hands within just a minute

we realized that that wasn't

getting us anywhere.

We could only dig maybe

a foot or two deep.

It was just gonna take too long.

So then I figured out

that I thought we needed a probe.

And I asked Mark if he had anything

and all he had was a saw.

So Mark took off with his saw to

find a stick or tree

or something that we could use.

When you try to search for

something you can move other

then your lips and your eyelid

you just surrender.

I just remember surrendering.

And I just kind of went to sleep.

I didn't know what else to do.

We were probing close to

the snowmobile

and started working up the hill,

and probably within 10 probes

I hit something that felt...

it had some elasticity, it wasn't,

it didn't feel solid.

And I told Mark I think I have him.

Brian was seconds from dying

of asphyxiation

not just from the lack of air

but from the extreme pressure

on his chest

Barely a few feet down, he might

as well have been cast in concrete.

They reached him just in time

and learned a lesson they are

eager to share.

In retrospect there were some signs.

And had we been as educated then

as we are now

about avalanches we probably

would have recognized them...

But the basic bottom line I think

is just

common sense and the awareness.

Being snow smart out

there carrying shovels and probes

and beepers is a big factor.

I would like to see the people

that are gonna go in the back

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