It was my third week in Bariloche, Argentina at a summer ski and snowboard camp. Alex, my coach Kirk and I had just finished an hour-and-a-half hike to the top of Punta Princessa at the resort Cerro Catedral. Kirk and I were both exhausted from the hike. Alex, a guide at Silverton Mountain, barely broke a sweat. This was just another day at the office for him.
We slapped high fives and got stoked for the run while getting our stuff together to drop in. Before Alex dropped in, he told us not to go too far right of his track and that he would give us a pole wave at the bottom to signal for the next person to drop. He jumped on the slope where we dropped in and then made a ski cut out onto the face before enjoying his turns down to the bottom. Being the naive 16-year-old that I was, I did not pay much heed to what Alex said before he dropped in; my eyes were on the prize. I made a heel-side turn to cut out farther right onto the face of the mountain and swooped around to make another turn. Halfway through the turn I looked to where I would place my next one, and all I saw was a wall of snow forming in front of me. That's when I realized I had triggered an avalanche.
Everything slowed down to half-speed. I recalled the avalanche classes Alex and Skylar had given us. "Cut out at a 45-degree angle" Skylar's voice echoed in my head. I pointed my board skier's left to a flat spot out of the way of the slide but when I hit the wall of snow it sucked me in like a river. Next thing I knew I was swimming in snow going for the ride of my life.
I fought like hell to stay on the surface but it was no use. The slide picked up speed, and I was swallowed into the gut of it. I knew then there was nothing I could do. The avalanche ran through a snowfield before things started to get hairy. I hit a rock and was airborne for a second where I caught my first glimpse of light since I went under the surface. The darkness arrived again as I landed on a rock, only to be bounced again off another cliff. I landed on another rock that sent shooting pains through my leg. The avalanche ran another couple hundred feet before it slowed to a stop and buried me a meter below the surface.
I wiggled my toes to make sure I hadn't been paralyzed. I felt my socks rub against my boot and was immediately relieved. I tried to muscle my way out, but the avalanche deposit was a cement tomb. My efforts to escape were worthless. I began to hyperventilate. I yelled a few times, hoping that someone would hear me but, once again, it was worthless. I realized I needed to slow my breathing and stay calm.
If you don't die from physical trauma, your breath melts the snow around your face, freezes over quickly and creates a sealed pocket in front of your mouth. The golden number is about 15 minutes; after that, the survival rate drops from about 90 percent to around 30 percent.
When riding in the backcountry, wearing a beacon is absolutely imperative. When in transit mode, beacons send out a signal that can be picked up by other beacons in search mode. This signal can be used to pin-point the position of someone who is buried. Luckily, I had just changed the batteries in my beacon the day before. I had a feeling I was going to survive. Then I started to hear footsteps above me and everything faded to black.
Meanwhile, there was utter chaos on the surface of the slide. Alex immediately pulled out his beacon to search for me while the Argentinian ski patrol organized their probe line composed of civilians with bamboo sticks. They yelled at Alex to get out of the way as the probe line passed over me, unaware I was right beneath their feet. Alex circled around and kept searching, keeping his cool. Finally he got a signal. He did the pin-point search, took out his probe and struck my backpack on the first try.
"Randall! Randall! Can you hear me?" a voice rang in my ears. Everything was bright again. It was like waking from a dream. It took me a second to remember what had happened, and then it hit me all at once. I realized it was Travis, the director of the camp, who was speaking to me. I said his name and he sighed with relief. I heard Skylar and Alex in the background counting to three as they lifted me all at once into a toboggan and brought me to the ski patrol clinic at the base of the mountain. They put me on the table. I could not stop shaking.
I was absurdly lucky. I should have died, but I walked out of the hospital the next day with a cane and a knee brace. I chipped my pelvis, fractured my femur and broke my kneecap in half. After three months and a little rehab, I was snowboarding again. I realized that I couldn't let that experience scare me away from the backcountry, so I fully immersed myself in it. That day was a learning experience for me and I take that lesson with me everywhere I go.
If I have any words of wisdom for anyone reading this, it's to notlet anything scare you away from something you love. Force yourself into it, whatever it is, and push yourself even further.
