In the span of seven days, two valley residents were caught in two massive avalanches in the north valley. One barely survived, the other, Boe Balis, 28, did not.
Our tendency in such tragedies is to look backwards and find fault with decisions made or not made. It is human nature to distinguish ourselves by pointing out the mistakes of others. But it is an exercise that misses the point of the issue: Avalanche accidents are a community—not an individual—problem.
This is a pretty snow savvy community. Still, we can do better. We could adopt the attitude that an avalanche accident for one is an accident for all, a failing we share. It could be a source of community pride if no one were caught in a slide here. No accidents, no rescues, no recoveries. This is, after all, the home of the National Avalanche Center. When it comes to snow safety, shouldn't we aim to be the most widely and best-educated community in the country?
Bruce Malone, former director of the Sun Valley Ski Patrol, said in an interview years ago that he started thinking about snow stability in the fall, when he first started shoveling his driveway. All of us could take this attitude.
When we drive up and down the highway and see little avalanches on the nearby slopes, we could take note of that.
The sound of snow sliding off the roof at night could be a piece of information we actually use.
Everyone in a resort town notices when it doesn't snow for a month. Couldn't the average resident also then come to know—and share with others—that the surface of the snowpack is probably getting rotten and subsequent snowstorms will land on a perfect sliding surface?
Couldn't we—whether skier, snowmobiler or neither—think avalanche danger when it gets hot on spring afternoons?
Even children could learn that when the temperature rises noticeably during a big storm a potentially dangerous situation is developing.
If all of us were paying attention to these natural clues, talking about them, it's possible that idle conversation in the grocery store just may save someone from a bad decision.
General snow safety knowledge applies to more than the backcountry skier. Skate skiers on the North Valley Trails are exposed to slide paths, as are kids playing near metal roofs loaded with snow. And avalanche accidents, when they do happen, affect everyone in a small community.
There are remarkable resources available to us. The Web site avalanche.org links to the Sawtooth National Forest Avalanche Center, which has a current avalanche advisory, weather conditions, information about factors that contribute to avalanches and classes offered. There is an advisory hot line: 622-8027. And the Center's staff members are knowledgeable and approachable.
While efforts to improve the odds of rescuing someone caught in an avalanche—wider use of beacons and shovels—are admirable, they are not the answer. Counting on a successful rescue—someone skiing through 900 vertical feet of avalanche debris, finding the beacon signal, digging a victim out of concrete-like snow in less than three or four minutes—is making a low odds bet.
We'd have better luck if we figured out a way to avoid having to do rescues in the first place.
A community-wide education effort, which includes everyone who lives here, would be a smarter bet.
No accidents, no rescues, no recoveries. That's our goal.
