While descending Little Pine chute today, a natural slide came down on my touring partner (Mali) and she was carried 150 feet down the chute. She popped out at the side, lost a ski, a pole and her goggles. I was stopped off to the side waiting for her to ski down about 75 feet below her when the slide came down.

I watched as snow poured over the fifteen foot cliffs to our west and landed right in front of her before I lost sight of her. I yelled her name, made sure I was out of the way of the slide, watched the debris flow by, and looked for signs of her. I yelled her name a few times. My original concern was that she was buried in a pile right where the snow had flowed on her. I hoped she was just standing on the other side, able to stop above where the snow came down. I looked down the chute and she was standing on the side about 75 feet below. I had to wait for the last trickles of the slide to stop and then I skied down as fast as possible finding her goggles on the way. When I got to her, she was shaken but okay. I tried to look at all our options. I thought maybe we could get onto the west facing flank, use that as safety and maybe a way down. But we were in the heart of it. I asked her if she could make her way down and she said, “Yup” We came up with a plan to stay as close to the East side (as far away from any of the East facing slopes hanging above us) and jump from side pull out to side pull out one at a time. We were near the bottom of the chute. We quickly moved past the debris of the slide, over some rocks and we were “home free” onto the apron. It seemed like forever and a heartbeat. That is what adrenaline will do to you.

Looking Back:

I thought that the forecast today was going to be very warm and would make it so we hiked up then ski right down. We hiked over a lot of old avy debris while ascending the chute. We thought maybe giving it a little more time would help ease the ski down. When we reached the ridge at the top, numerous clouds formed blocking the sun. It was rather cool and the snow up high was not softening as much as we had hoped. We skied down about 800 feet with our buddy who had to go to work, but we decided to wait a bit longer. We watched him ski out to almost the bottom where we couldn’t see him anymore and then hiked back up. It remained cloudy and became breezy for the hike up and a brief waiting period. We talked about how we should ski one at a time and pull off out of the way to watch the other person. But I must admit, I was saying it for good practices, not because I was truly concerned. I thought most southerly aspects had been cooked pretty well the last six days and our concern was skier triggered point releases. We decided to head down at about 11:30am. It wasn’t as soft as we hoped, but then about 1,000 feet down it started becoming very wet. I was mostly concerned with push-a-lanches at this point and we were just trying not to ski above one another.

After the slide, I had to make a quick decision where I thought we would be safe. I asked my partner to get some consensus but she was pretty shaken. I knew I had to keep calm and portray confidence. There was still hang fire on both sides above us, although West facing was still not getting direct sun. I thought maybe we could work the West facing side up onto the rocks but it seemed very technical and would take much longer. I also thought of trying to find some high ground to wait it out or call for help. But I thought there was enough snow on the slopes above that was warming, to not be a great idea. We were near the bottom of the chute where there was almost no hang fire and so I decided we should go for it.

I decided not to call Alta Central in the moment, as we were in a hurry to get out of there and my phone was tucked away. I had thought to call when we got down, but then I hurried and got the car, took my partner to the clinic and rushed to work. It seemed pointless after so long. Though, in hindsight, I really wished I had called. Calling is too easy for that mistake.

Some background information:

This was my fifth time skiing Little Pine Chute, Mali’s first time, and Jason (our third skier) had skied it before. We all had helmets on for the ascent and descent, whippets in hand, and we each brought crampons. We had beacons on, shovel and probe in our packs. I have been skiing in the backcountry for six years. The last four winters I have only skied in the backcountry, roughly 150 days per year, and about an average of 4 hours per day skied. I would not consider myself an expert. But I am experienced and have spent a lot of time in avalanche terrain. Mali is a competitive Freeride skier and an avid backcountry skier. She was a collegiate Nordic skier and is very athletic (which I believed helped in our exit when she only had one ski). Also, she is a raft guide in the summer and is more comfortable in rescue/”high stress” situations. I think this helped both of us stay calmer and move efficiently out of the chute.

I went back today to take some pictures. I could not see where the slide started or traveled above the chute. The chute looks entirely different when you are inside it. This was my best guess as to where we were.

Green is Mali Caught = X Popped out = O

Orange is Me