near hit on the sickle, mt. victoria

Despite wanting to hide in a hole somewhere i've been encouraged to share an experience from a few days ago. on Feb. 04 two friends (i'll call them larry and moe) and i decided to have a look at the sickle on the east face of mt. victoria. larry had been up there before in a previous year and climbed the face around the end of may. it was socked in and the face was frozen snow - they were counting on the sun to come out and soften things up. they hit the summit ridge at 9:00 am and shivered in the clouds for two hours before pulling the pin, keeping their crampons on to walk down the S ridge to Abbott Pass and skiing down the death trap. i had been up there a previous april but not getting an early enough start turned around at the death trap - the sun was already baking the face and slopes above us. lately we had been skiing a bit around the field area but not in the lake louise area.

we talked openly about the hazards of a winter ascent/descent of the sickle on the drive that morning. we knew there were more hazards and that the risk was higher; we also were pretty amped, and curious, about what the rewards might be - skiing that line in pow conditions. the forecast was for a mix of sun and cloud which we thought would be ideal, hopefully keeping the sun off the face and keeping us safer. the avi forecast changed from LOWLOWLOW the day before to MODLOWLOW because of varying amounts of new snow in the forecast area. we had a leisurely start, leaving the parking lot at 6:00 am with broken skies above, and talking of other options if we didn't like what we saw or felt.

at the bottom of the death trap we put our harnesses on but left the rope in the pack. things were really filled in, there was a bunch of old serac debris covering the whole slope in one place, and we joked about the fitting name. the weather was cooperating, it was still a mix of sun and cloud and we felt good to continue, albeit quickly, racing upwards until we were out of the threat of the seracs. trail breaking was through boot deep fluff in some places to boot deep cream in others where the sluff from above had piled up. it was full winter back there, -10º C with no wind or signs of previous winds. near the top of our skin track where we would start our traverse a small sluff came off the rocks above us. we noted it, and how fast and far it ran and that it was the first sign of snow moving anywhere. a light wind had also picked up. several hand shears on the way up and how the snow felt breaking trail kept our confidence in the snowpack as we reached the 'no-fall zone'. another few feet of traversing would see us above 200+ ft cliffs. we stopped to dig a pit and discussed the crux ahead of us. 'no room for error here' moe noted. the pit gave us more confidence although we were aware of how variable the snowpack was and that a few feet further it could be completely different. we probably could of skinned across but decided to bootpack with ice axes out. it wasn't the place to slip with skins on and in walk mode. it wasn't the place to slip at all. what a wild and powerful place!!! definitely felt 'out there'. we also thought we'd stay high for the traverse, giving us more room and time to self-arrest should something unthinkable happen. moe started off while larry and i hung back in a relatively safe zone. after some time larry started off in moe's tracks, then i followed. we quickly caught up to moe, and were bunched together for a few moments before we hit the safety of a big boulder. again, larry and i hung back while moe struck out. we were maybe halfway across the traverse by now, and moe was maybe 100ft ahead of us. larry left, and i waited a few more minutes before starting after him. the trail breaking was variable - pencil firm in places to knee deep wallowing - and we quickly caught up to moe; he still felt good about the snow under foot. larry and i were now stopped together for less than a minute before the unthinkable happened. a few flakes from above first caught my attention, quickly turning to a snow shower and "HOLY FUCK!" a wall of white was coming down. i tried to dig my axe in and hang on but was blown off my feet and going down. somehow i managed to pull my axe out and hang onto that and started cartwheeling down, getting tossed around and thinking about the huge cliff to come. i had no doubt i was going over. i fought to get upright and stop spinning and tumbling, thinking (for some reason) that if i was going to go for the big ride i was going feet first. i then found myself feet first with axe in hand and thought "Fuck that, i'm stopping." i rolled over onto my axe and somehow the shaft sunk in. i hung on for life with my left hand on top of the axe - full extension and i couldn't hang on, and, no leash on the axe, i left it, or it left me, behind. that was enough to slow me down though, and i kicked and punched until i stopped.

the snow cleared and holy shit, larry was below me, in classic self-arrest position, maybe 50 feet above the cliff edge. we had tumbled 150 feet or so. i thought i was the only one in that, where's moe? can't see him. a few moments of terror before we hear him above, the slide had missed him. he had his moment of terror watching us tumble out of sight. ok, we're all here and alive but fuck, i can't move my left arm and we're still in a bad place. larry climbs up to me with only one ski on his pack. the other had been ripped off. two of my ski straps were ripped and the skis were dangling. larry helps me out of my pack, grabs my stuff and puts a bootpack in for me to follow to our traverse track. we hit that and truck back to our transition spot, moe following. ow, i can barely move but there's no other option, at this point guessing i've dislocated my shoulder. those guys dig a little spot where i can lie down and they give me some traction, try to get my shoulder back in but nothing doing. we decide to drop down some more to a flat bench that's safer than the spot we're in now. i bootpack down, not able to ski, trying to remember from first aid courses how to relocate a dislocation. from this bench we see the cliff we would have went over and larry's (brand new) ski sticking in the snow. as moe retrieves the ski larry works on me a bit more and things clunk back into place. praising Jah i do a little dance and give larry a hug, then we all hug when moe returns. we get the F.O.T.

anyways, that's the story, and despite hearing 'you had no business being there' enough times already thought i would share it, seems like a good yarn and maybe someone can learn something from it. the ski back to the p-lot was definitely reflective and there's been lots of discussion and hard thinking since. 'that's a spring route' is something i've heard enough of too. i've wondered if it's worth skiing that line at any time of the year. is it worth skiing or climbing anything? the world's a pretty messed up place and there's no doubt we could put our energies towards something better. that was on my mind that day, and also a weird feeling that something just wasn't right. that feeling was with me from the moment i woke up at 4:20. i should have shared that with my partners but it was a feeling i couldn't put my finger on, and attributed it to being in big, wild, powerful mountains, attempting to ski a line in an unforgiving place. i kept my fears to myself.

skiing something in the area beforehand would have been smart too. we were guessing that there was 5-10 cm's of fresh sitting atop those cliffs, and that it was probably a solar point release from the rocks way above that gained mass and speed as it came down. there was some wind, which may have played a part too. we didn't really see what hit us, big enough to knock us off our feet, throw us around and rip skis from our packs but small enough that we were able to self-arrest in it. larry had the same thought of 'dig in or die.' a leash on my axe may have saved my life if the sluff had more mass.

while we were waiting for the leader to break trail we had stopped in a safe spot. we should have stayed there until he was at the next safe spot or all the way across. when we did catch up to him we were in the worst possible place to stop, right below a funnel through the cliff bands. i'm guessing we weren't there for more than a minute when we got hit. as we were skinning up we had a view of the traverse for at least two hours, and then we were hanging out in that zone for maybe another two hours after it happened. that was the only action we saw through that funnel. if we were a half hour earlier we probably wouldn't even have known that a sluff ripped through there. if we were a half hour earlier maybe we would have gotten into a worse situation on the face proper. we did take note of the earlier sluff which happened as we were skinning up and which came down to the climber's left of us. despite being quite small (it wouldn't have knocked us off our feet) we should have paid more attention to that. we were pretty focussed on the snow we were on, and the consequences of triggering an avalanche. we should have been more aware of everything. maybe we shouldn't have been there.

waiting another day or two would probably have been the wisest decision we could have made, if we were intent on skiing that line in winter conditions. things may have settled out a bit, maybe the sun would have flushed the rest of the snow off those rocks, maybe that line is good to go right now. patience would have been rewarded.

when we returned home the avalanche forecast for banff/yoho was raised to CONSID/MOD/LOW.

anyways, hope someone gets something from all this verbose verbiage...

R.I.P Howard Zinn