On Thursday March 9 we checked the Provo area avalanche forecast and made the decision to go ice-climbing in Santaquin Canyon.

On Friday, March 10 we drove from Provo to Santaquin canyon arriving at the gate/parking area at 10:57 AM (based on a text telling my wife I would be losing cell reception soon). It had been raining all morning in Provo but was clear when we parked and started hiking. We did not check the forecast on the morning of March 10.

We hiked up- 2 ice climbers and one dog. We did the climb as it is typically done- I led both pitches and belayed my partner up from each of the two anchors. Our original plan was to do the typical rappel a short walk up the gulley from the 2nd pitch anchors and drop down by the climb called "backoff" but decided instead to go back down the route we had climbed because the dog was just lying on the backpacks below the climb.

I lowered my partner down to the anchors above the first pitch and he clipped directly to the bolts that are several feet up on the cliff wall out of harms way. I pulled the rope up after he was clipped directly to the midpoint anchors and ran it through the master point of the double anchor chains of the 2nd pitch. A brand-new anchor had been installed in 2021.

I started rappelling down to my partner and was only about 25' from the anchors right in the dead center of the gully when I heard the insane sound of the avalanche. I looked up to see it coming right at me at high speed and knew I was most likely dead. A second later I was airborne and getting thrown around violently. We estimate that it continued to flow at full bore for somewhere between a minute and a minute thirty.

Most of my experience was luckily staying on the top of the slide getting hammered by debris of all sorts. I felt blackout dizzy a few times but was able to stay conscious enough to keep the rope locked off in my belay device. At one point I was completely buried and watched the few pierces of light turn to complete darkness. After about 5 seconds of complete darkness with the sounds coming through muffled, I registered a big muffled boom and found myself flying up the air in bright daylight again surprised, and a bit horrified but stoked, to come down onto the raging bull again.

Once the slide finally stopped, I was shocked I was alive. I yelled for my partner “ARE YOU ALIVE?” and was startled to have him yell back. "I'M FINE, I WAS OUT OF THE WAY AT THE ANCHOR". Then he said in a really funny twisted up tone of voice " WAIT, YOU’RE ALIVE".

I was surprised to stand up and actually be able to stand up. I could taste blood but assumed with all the impact I had just gone through I couldn't possibly not have broken anything. I got up to find the rope in a tangled mess about 8' below me. I fixed this as fast as I could and rappelled the rest of the way down to my partner. I asked him if my face was messed up & it wasn't. I told him to run the rope through the anchor and we rappelled down the first pitch one at time onto the avalanche debris.

At this point being in a crazy headspace I removed one of my ice axes from my harness, briefly contemplating how they could've been imbedded into my body at any point, and started digging for the dog in the spot I thought might be close to where we left the backpacks. We started to pack up what we could and dig for the dog where he had last been seen near the tree.

Suddenly I hear another sound like a commercial airliner start roaring (another avalanche) and yelled "OH SHIT". My partner heard me but was so close to the wall that he somehow missed the sound of the 2nd avalanche coming down the gully, but he knew from my reaction what had happened. He ran closer to the wall and out as I ran a path directly out to the same side. He dropped the rope from his shoulders but kept a grasp on a portion of it only to feel the avalanche tugging on it. He let go of it and watched it zip quickly into the 2nd slide. I barely made it off into the trees and could see him safely tucked out of the way.

We estimate the 2nd slide went for about 25-30 seconds. Once it stopped, I said to him "The dog is dead we gotta get the hell outta here, this thing seems like it’s committed to killing us"

   

As we were walking down next to the debris pile, we were shocked to see the backpack next to a tree. We grabbed it and continued our fast hike/ jog down.

Every few minutes I would yell the dog’s name refusing to accept that he was likely dead. Finally at the final turn the dog came ripping around the corner. (It turns out the dog had been hit by an ice block in Maple Canyon earlier this season and most likely ran when he heard the sound of the first avalanche).

We arrived at the truck and paused for a minute to remove our harnesses and threw what gear we had in the back of the truck then continued down the canyon road before getting picked up by another couple in the canyon who were able to drive us down to cell service.

I am doing well now with a very sore left knee and right shoulder but no real damage all things considered.

• Check the forecast the morning before committing to an objective; and talk to more experienced friends if things seem strange
• Don’t let familiarity with a zone take precedence over avalanche hazard
• Remember that even though we’re on ice and not snow the overhead hazard is very real. In this case there is close to 2,000’ of runout from the upper bowl that funnels over the ice climb
• Take note of changing conditions, in this case rain in/out on the drive and approach to the climb.