Freshly Fallen Snow

It had been pretty busy that afternoon in February at our Berggasthof, the hotel that we had rented for three seasons located at 5,900 feet (1,800 m) in the Austrian Alps. Not surprising, because it was ideal weather for skiers: wonderful freshly fallen snow and terrific sunshine. What more could you want? Around the regulars’ table, a few people were still sitting, talking about (what else?) skiing. Our dogs were lying under the table, just back from a walk.

Our conversation turns to our search and rescue and avalanche dogs. During our stay here, they had become used to the noise and clatter in the taproom. We tell our table companions about the groups of dog handlers who are coming this year to our avalanche dog training courses at the hotel. Our Berggasthof is the emergency center for accidents in the mountains, and for that we had a special wire installation. With that equipment we could connect with the pilots of the rescue helicopters.

The talk turns to the reckless way some tourists put themselves in danger. “You have to risk your life for such daredevils,” someone grumbles. He is right, because many people overlook the threat of an avalanche. Everywhere in the mountains, the danger of being buried under tons of snow lurks. In spite of warning signs about closed areas, some people still ski outside the ski runs in search of fantastic snow. The snow is always whiter on the other side of the fence, isn’t it? These people often have no awareness that they’re putting more than their own lives at risk.

Helicopter

Suddenly our wire installation comes on. An emergency! In a mountain area nearby, an avalanche has taken place and maybe two skiers are now under the snow. The helicopter is already on its way and will arrive here in about five minutes. I know what to do. My clothes hang ready and my backpack is packed. It will be very cold: temperatures of 5°F to -4°F (-15°C to -20°C) are normal at this altitude.

The helicopter can’t land on the steep mountain slope where the avalanche came down, so I will have to hang with my dog on a cable under the helicopter to get us into the area. I strap on my rescue belt securely.

The dogs already know what is going to happen, because they are looking at me, wide awake. Meanwhile, Eva is put in her airlift harness and we are just ready when we hear the noise of the approaching helicopter. I know the pilot, a reliable flyer who knows the area. Beside him is a physician who specializes in avalanche accidents. He gives us the thumbs up when he observes that we are ready to go. The pilot comes down with his helicopter, and I suspend Eva and myself with special knots on the cable. Then I quickly check the knots, screw the climbing carbines again and give the signal that we can go. It is very cold as we fly to the location of the avalanche, but the flight goes quickly, and we are lucky: there isn’t much wind. Below me I see the site of the avalanche and I make a plan for myself to handle the operation. The helicopter is going down and I feel ground under my feet again. Quickly I get Eva and myself loose. While I help her out of the harness, I see the helicopter taking the physician a short distance from the area. He will reach us on skis. The helicopter is flying back to the valley to pick up other members of the rescue team.

Figure 12.25 A view of the avalanche from above can help you make a plan to handle the operation.

(JayL/Shutterstock.com)