Originally Posted by
D-Roc
Hey Guys,
So I have had time to assess and reflect on the Gobbler's avalanche accident. Here it goes:
My partner and I left the Porter Fork trailhead around 830 AM the goal was to check out the Gobblers Knob lines etc. Between the two of us we had been up there several times in the previous weeks skiing the lookers right flank of Main. My partner had been skiing Davis Gulch, etc. a couple days before. In our discussion the night before we hemmed and hawed about where to go and avoid canyon traffic, etc. decided since we had been on the terrain prior, that was where we decided to go.
We broke trail the entire way up and to the ridgeline and stopped on the lookers right flank of main gobblers and thought this would be a great warm up for the day and we could get back to our skin track pretty quickly. It was a great line down and had a great time. We decided on another lap.
On the second lap there was a party ahead of us. We went up to where we originally had been and continued a little further, this was an effort to avoid some steeper roll overs and cornices. The goal was to ski down, and head left to align with our first set of tracks and end at the same point. We got to the top as per our plan and transitioned.
(Also, there were no visible / auditory indicators from a red flag perspective – collapsing, cracking, etc.; not that we let our guard down, but just wanted to address that point).
Given the nature of the terrain and the groups of trees at our location, we discussed leap frogging so that once one of us was out of sight, the other would yelp once clear, etc. and we could keep an eye / track of each other. I went first skiing a low angle alley to just before a group of trees and stopped. Gave a yell.
My partner came down the opposite alley way of me and that was when everything broke. It was like watching glass shatter in all directions around me. I realized what had happened and quickly started polling towards the nearest trees. As I reached out to grab the tree, I got swept, I was so fucking close – inches.
I threw my poles, and then began tumbling. One ski ripped off and then the other. It was like washing out from being in the ocean or being in a washing machine. Everything went black, then white, then black, then white – every time I saw white I reached for it, swimming, fighting, screaming. I came to the top – somehow, then BAM, another section of hang-fire snow hit me (assuming) and shot me down further, but I sort of skidded – like sliding into a base.
Once I stopped, I knew I was fucked, my left knee was jacked and my right hand throbbing. I just let out a visceral scream. I started yelling for my partner – nothing. I picked up my left leg and moved it around – snap crackle pop, but realized I had function. My right hand I pulled on the fingers and relocated them.
I got up on my knees and looked around to see if there was any indication of him, a ski, pole, limb, sticking out – nothing.
I ripped open my jacket while screaming my partner’s name and flipped my beacon into search – nothing. I kept screaming his name. I looked up behind me and saw my ski sticking out of the debris and scrambled through the facets, dirt, etc. to the ski because I knew that was my only chance of being faster. I got the ski and sat on It and sledded down with my beacon in one hand and arresting with my legs / arm to go slower.
Then I heard him.
As I sledded down towards his voice I found him at the bottom of the debris pile there, shivering… We did a quick assessment and there were potential broken bones, but he was completely cognitive. We needed to take advantage of the adrenaline window and got moving downhill towards our skin track. (no cell phone service). I started breaking trail and making a trench as he followed.
Then we heard the helicopter. It turns out the other party who was heading towards Cabin Run / Davis Gulch had seen the slide and called it in since they were on the ridgeline. We attempted to flag the helicopter but did not have any luck.
The party who saw the avalanche had skied over to us eventually since we had made it to the drainage of Davis Gulch, we discussed with them that we just needed to get down, there wasn’t much we could do until we got emergency services. We asked them to help pack down the snow so we could get to the skin track faster. They did.
We made further progress and came upon another skier coming up the skin track, he was great (Andy?) he helped us immensely, we each got onto a ski (one legged) and managed to side hill our way into the tree line and onto the path.
We made our way down and found SAR / EMS team coming up and they quickly got onto treating my partner, secured the litter and got him down trail (thanks to all of you). Nikki from UAC was in the vicinity and came over and I gave her the brief on the situation.
I continued after everyone skiing one legged down the trail with 2 other SAR folks (thanks to the two of you). Once we were at the trailhead (where the porter fork trail starts / road meet) I got onto the snowmobile with the litter and took the ride down. Once at the end EMS got my partner into ambulance.
Then I broke down. The emotion finally caught up. I answered the questions to the officers and whomever asked. A man forced a blue Gatorade into my hand and I cried again (thank you). I said to everyone I needed a minute and walked up to my truck and threw everything down, put my head on the door and sobbed. I grabbed the hidden key fob opened the truck and started taking off my gear. I was in incredible pain and had to sit down to take off my left boot and choked down advil with the remainder of my morning coffee. I walked back down, to check on my partner (the ambulance hadn’t left yet). The officials told me where he was going and I answered a couple more questions. I stopped and thanked everyone again, cried again, and walked back to my truck.
I drove out of Millcreek and called everyone to let them know.
I pulled over to get control of myself. Then I drove straight to the hospital and made contact with family there. Once I knew he was going to be ok. I went home.
That’s my story. Im sure there are some details I am missing, but sometimes it is a blur and in more time maybe some more clarity will come.
I write this with my leg in the air in ice. I am awaiting tomorrow’s MRI, its looking like an ACL tear, I tell myself im okay with that, but I know its going to be fucking hard. Ive been mourning the loss of this year, my Alaska plans, my Ecuador plans, but they are just plans. I have a pregnant wife at home and the thought of not being able to meet my son just absolutely crushes me that I could have missed the opportunity to be a Dad, be the Dad that I wanted.
For those of you that know me, I am one determined motherfucker. I have a drive for adventure, experience, and exploration; this will not define me, but will let it teach me. This is not defeat, it is delay.
I look forward to meeting many of you and hope that my story helps some other’s learn.
-Zac