Colin Pickett had been riding his snowmobile for roughly three hours on Sunday, playing on the gentle snow-topped rollovers of the western La Plata Mountains with two friends, when the thing he had trained and prepared for, but never experienced, happened: An avalanche buried one of his companions.
“I turned around and I saw it all go – I saw it slide,” he said. “I saw him get sucked into it pretty quickly and then it stopped. It wasn't a huge slope, it was a small slope so it stopped moving pretty quickly.”
Pickett of Durango estimated the slope to be less than 100 vertical feet in size and 32 degrees at its steepest point. Slopes are considered avalanche terrain if they are between 30 degrees and 45 degrees, meaning the slope was just barely steep enough to slide.
Of the three riders, Pickett rode the slope first, followed by a second sledder. As he turned around, he saw their third companion trigger the avalanche.
As soon as he saw his companion get sucked under the flow of snow, Pickett said his instincts kicked in. Luckily, all three riders were properly equipped with avalanche safety equipment.
He declined to identify his riding companions, including the one who became buried, out of concern for their privacy.
After yelling “avalanche” to warn Rider Two, Pickett turned his beacon to “search” mode.
Beacons send and receive a specific radio frequency; when turned to “search” mode, they stop sending and begin searching. Pickett had watched the slide and knew approximately where his friend was buried. He quickly picked up a signal and as he homed in on it, the second rider prepared to probe.
“I hit his sled at first, and then my friend hit him at 160 centimeters down,” Pickett said. “That was where his feet were. His head was toward the toe of the debris, so his head was probably more like 125 centimeters deep. And then I just started shoveling like a (expletive).”
Once an avalanche stops moving, the snow sets up like concrete, hardening rapidly and making movement next to impossible for any buried victims. Most people killed in avalanches die of asphyxiation when the snow around their face saturates with carbon dioxide. But buried victims who are dug out within 15 minutes, typically by companions, have a 93% chance of survival, according to the Utah Avalanche Center.
Pickett’s best estimate was that he and Rider Two took no more than seven minutes to clear their companion’s airway, although he said he “kind of blacked out.”
The buried rider was “limp and unresponsive” when uncovered, but Pickett said he regained consciousness in a matter of seconds.
“I know how to do CPR – that was my next thought when I found his arms limp,” Pickett said. “... Luckily, I didn't have to do that.”
Pickett has taken the level one course with the American Institute for Avalanche Research and Education, although he said it was some years ago. Still, he said it was a relief to know that over a decade of experience in the backcountry had primed his instincts to engage when needed.
Although backcountry skiers are typically well-prepared with avalanche equipment, he said snowmobilers are sometimes less diligent. A snowmobiler was killed the day before the Mancos incident near La Manga Pass after he was buried in an avalanche and did not have any safety equipment with him. It took two days of searching the debris field to locate his body.
Pickett said his friend rode back to the car uninjured and is doing well now.
“I'm just glad that I instinctually knew which steps to take,” he said.
rschafir@durangoherald.com
