Nothing ruins a day on the slopes like an avalanche. It comes out of nowhere, a wall of snow and ice travelling quickly enough to overtake even a fast-moving skier. In Europe, one in 10 avalanche victims dies from impact injuries; for the others, trapped beneath several feet of snow, the clock starts ticking. The average victim has 15 minutes to be rescued before it is too late. Most perish from asphyxiation, not hypothermia. Last season was one of the most lethal in recent history, in part due to a big increase in the popularity of off-piste skiing and snowboarding.
I’ve got time to dwell on these sobering facts because I’m lying 6ft below the snow surface, unable to move. I’m entombed somewhere off the edge of the vast Mont Blanc piste, in Val d’Isère. To get here, I skied on a closed piste, and the nearest human being could be miles away. Hopefully, Faro and Elliot, the two rescue dogs that I know are hunting me, are closer.
Yes, my premature burial is an exercise — aimed at proving the dogs’ ability to sniff out a trapped skier.
Advertisement
Rescue dogs were used in the days before groomed pistes and ski lifts to save intrepid explorers who ventured up mountains with barrel staves strapped to their feet. Now, with casualties rising, they are in vogue again — an old-world solution to a new-world problem.
Some skiers carry electronic tracking devices — called transceivers — but rescuers can’t be certain a victim is equipped with one, plus, they may break or get torn loose in an accident, or run out of battery power. Dogs are more reliable, and better than humans at combing large areas quickly. For these reasons, the traditional pooch is still a vital part of the rescuer’s toolkit.
But I’m beginning to wonder if the French mountain rescue team who have staged this demo for me haven’t gone a step too far in an effort to prove a point. “If you start to panic, just call us on your phone and we’ll come and get you out,” were their last words. But my mobile phone is in front of my face (positioned there for filming) and I can see that the signal is fading in and out, from one bar to none. Not much hope of making a call, then, even if I did manage to press any buttons with my numb, gloved fingers.
If you get ice forming in the air pocket, you know it's a done deal. It becomes like having a plastic bag over your head I calm myself with the thought that I couldn’t be in better hands (or, rather, paws). Elliot is a five-year-old border collie, owned and trained by Sandra Vuillermoz, a member of Val d’Isère’s piste rescue service. Faro is younger and slightly less experienced, but already has a rescue to his credit — a skier buried by a huge snowslide in the Arcelle region last March. But for Faro, the man would have been dug out dead rather than alive.
Elliot and Faro are part of a team of three border collies and one münsterländer that comprise the Dog Squad. (Yes, the French use that phrase.) They start training as pups to sniff out victims from hundreds of yards away, under masses of snow. To them, it’s a big game, their natural instinct honed by a year of training. Typically, they have a 10-year working life.
Advertisement
That’s longer than in the old days, when dogs would sometimes be retired with snow blindness. Now they have “liquid sunglasses” — eyedrops that help block ultraviolet rays and reduce the risk of eye damage.
Vuillermoz has let them loose at the top of the piste, which means that if they work their way methodically down the slope, they will have to comb an area at least a kilometre square before they arrive at where I’m buried. The clock is ticking. I can’t feel my hands and feet. The air is getting stale.
You may have heard that if you are trapped by an avalanche, you should spit, see which way the saliva runs across your face to work out which way is up, then dig in that direction. In fact, it doesn’t really matter which way is up. Being encased in snow is like being frozen in concrete, and it is highly unlikely that you will be able to dig anywhere.
In the silence, I contemplate the words of Henry Schniewind, an avalanche expert who gave me a handy check list to gauge the danger of going off piste. Here are five tips that could save your life.
“Number one, heed the danger rating (a five-stage scale — from low to very high— usually posted at the tourist office, some lift stations and on the web). Two, are you on a slope that has not been regularly skied in the past few weeks (virgin snow is tempting, but can be deadly)? Three, is the slope — or the slope above you — steep (avalanches typically start on slopes of 30 degrees or more)? Four, if you can, take an avalanche transceiver, shovel and probe pole (and know how to use them). The fifth is, surprisingly, the most important: are you in a party of skiers that has been gripped by ‘powder frenzy’? People make less rational decisions in a group setting.”
Advertisement
All obvious points; all often overlooked by the growing numbers venturing off piste.
The physiology of avalanche victims and why they perish is still being studied. Dr Colin Grissom is based at the Intermountain Medical Center in Utah, near the Park City ski area. “After 15 minutes, the chances of being dug out alive fall dramatically,” he says. “Even if you have an air pocket in front of your face, the moisture in your breath will condense and freeze in the snow. If you get ice forming in the air pocket, you know it’s a done deal, because ice is not permeable to air. Then it becomes like having a plastic bag right over your head.”
I’ve been buried now for more than 14 minutes and the snow in front of my face has turned to ice. In my frost-covered orange ski jacket, I look like a frozen fishfinger, and I’m beginning to think that I’ve had my chips.
Then I hear a muffled bark. The next minute, there’s scrabbling and a wet, shiny nose breaks into my snow coffin. It’s Elliot, with Faro not far behind. He pulls me out into the mountain sunshine. Vuillermoz is standing there, leaning casually on a snow shovel. Smiling, she assists as, with trembling fingers, I reach inside my jacket for a hip flask.
Never has a sip of schnapps tasted so good.
Advertisement
For more information on Val d’Isère, visit valdisere.com. Nick Rufford was a guest of Le Ski (01484 548996, leski.com), which has a week at Chalet La Saulire from £609pp, half-board, including flights and transfers; easyJet (easyjet.com), which has returns from Gatwick to Geneva from £43; Snowdrone (snow-drone.com), which has private transfers from Geneva to Val from £226, one-way, for up to four people; and Snowberry (snowberry-valdisere.com), which offers ski and boot hire from £106pp for a week. Henry’s Avalanche Talk (henrysavalanchetalk.com) runs off-piste courses from £123pp. Nick’s rescue adventure was made possible with the help of TDCski (tdcski.com) and Progression Ski (progressionski.com), both of which offer private lessons from about £170 for three hours; and Jelly and Ice Cream (jellyandice-cream.com), which offers childcare from £123 for an eight-hour day