Are You a Red Flag Partner?

A People Checklist for the Avalanche Triad

Last post I talked about a different way of looking at the avalanche triad, with terrain in the middle and the condition of the snowpack, weather, and people around the outside.

Snowpack, weather, and terrain have known criteria where avalanches are more likely.

But what are the people conditions that make avalanches more likely? I spent the winter asking avalanche professionals, and narrowed it down to six people disaster factors. These are attributes of partners, or yourself, that increase avalanche risk.

In the absence of these disaster factors, the people are acting as a team. Teamwork is important for making good decisions. A group of people that are not working together as a team will make worse decisions and should consider avoiding avalanche terrain.

It looks like this in the triad:

This is the third of four posts on concepts I wrestled with while rethinking the avalanche problem for my Avalanche Decision Making Field Book.

Re-Thinking the Avalanche Triad

In the 1980’s the avalanche education powerhouse team of Jill Fredston and Doug Fesler organized avalanche information into an avalanche triad in their book Snow Sense. They describe snowpack, weather, and terrain coming together to make an avalanche. People, at the center of the triangle, turn the danger of avalanches into a risk for humans. Their triad, like all their work, has stood the test of time.

The avalanche triad from Snow Sense by Fredston and Fesler.

In the decades of thinking about the avalanche triad, I steered away from it because it felt stagnant. I wanted a system with a progression. Not a list. But in recent years, I’ve come back to the triad, realizing that a simple list, as a graphic, is a great starting point for an avalanche avoidance system. Cycling back to an idea, after exploring other options, tells me that I’ve found what I’m after. The triad works.

It needs a small tweak though. Terrain goes in the middle.

While planning before going into avalanche terrain we consider the condition of the snowpack, weather, and people. Based on those conditions we choose appropriate terrain to ski. This is how people think and talk about avoiding avalanches.

People are just as fickle as the mountain weather and snowpack. Terrain, though, is our trusty old friend.

This is the second of four posts on concepts I wrestled with for my Avalanche Decision Making Field Book. The avalanche problem is far from being solved.

Would You Freeze?

Learning from the Tenerife Air Disaster

Your partner cuts into the golden powder. The slope cracks like ice. A river swallows her and she’s gone. Subliminal bliss to nightmare in five seconds. How would you react? 

I hope I will default to the teaching and practice I do countless times a season. But then, I’ve never done a real avalanche rescue. Imposter syndrome niggles at my teaching. Would I freeze?   

My sister Kate sent me the podcast Cautionary Tales, Frozen in a Burning 747 (Tenerife Air Disaster 2). In the podcast Tim Hartford describes the largest air disaster in history when two 747s collided on the runway in the Canary Islands. One plane sat burning on the tarmac. Inside numerous passengers survived the initial impact. A few jumped up and started helping. Most froze though. Alive, just looking calmly ahead. Unable to get out. They died. 

Evolution taught us to fight or flight in an emergency. Freezing is another common response to disaster. It’s an evolved survival tactic so a predator won’t see us, or maybe think we’re old dead meat. 

Hartford explains research done on two types of disasters: those we might encounter and train for, and those that are unlikely to encounter and are not worth training for. Us backcountry skiers might encounter an avalanche, so we can train for it. “Do drills again and again until the right response pops straight into your brain.” In other words, practice rescue every single year to avoid freezing. 

Hartford also explains how we might need help snapping out of a freeze. A thought popping into our head, or someone showing you the way. A few simple and directive commands to get us to revert to our training. I took that knowledge and simplified the rescue outline in my Avalanche Decision Making Field Book down to a few key phrases to unlock a freeze.

Avalanche Writing That Doesn’t Bury Your Readers

Avalanche Writing That Doesn’t Bury Your Readers

The Avalanche Review 43.3 printed this article in spring 2025. Minor revisions here.

Have you ever started reading an article about avalanches only to find your mind wandering to distant powder slopes? You wanted to know more, but the article wasn’t worth the effort. Why?

Avalanches are hard to understand because they are complex events. They result from a soupy mix of terrain, weather, and snowpack. Add humans to the mix and avalanches become even more complex. For these same reasons, the very nature of avalanches makes them difficult to capture in words. Like legalese (legal writing that is hard to understand) and academese (excessive jargon in some academic writing), avalanchese is difficult to read and fails to increase safety. 

Here is a real example of avalanchese:

By offering an interpretation tool for the PST, we aim at enabling the immediate assessment of PST outcomes and at facilitating comparability between different geographical locations, terrain features, snowpacks conditions, etc., enhancing the transferability of these stability tests to potential hazards.

In contrast, if the writing is good—easy to read, relevant, and concise—avalanche professionals can share information more effectively to increase the safety of backcountry skiers. Written better, the avalanchese above might look like this:

We present a method to interpret the propagation saw test for different locations, terrain features and snowpacks. This method can help forecasters compare results and use those results to better predict avalanche danger. 

Write for Your Readers

Good writing requires that you write for your readers. Unless you’re journaling for yourself, keep your readers' level of knowledge in mind as you write. Doing this is difficult for experts because of what Steven Pinker in A Sense of Style calls the curse of knowledge. “It simply doesn’t occur to the writer that her readers don’t know what she knows. And so she doesn’t bother to explain the jargon, or spell out the logic, or supply the necessary detail.” Avalanche professionals, who know the topic well, often forget what it’s like to not understand avalanches.

The following are specific ways to avoid the curse of knowledge so that your readers will actually read your stuff (article, paper, post, or observation), and have a better chance at applying it to their own practice. 

1. Avoid Zombie Nouns

Unintelligible academese, legalese, and avalanchese are full of zombie nouns. Zombie nouns are simple words (e.g. compact) that have been turned into longer, more abstract words (e.g. compaction) by tacking on “-ion” or “-ize.” 

Documentation of observations is important when ski guiding. →  Ski guides should document what they observe. 

Compaction and stabilization of the slope is necessary. → The slope must compact and become more stable.

Zombie nouns tend to make your readers struggle to understand what you are saying. Your potentially life-saving writing will collect dust in the avalanchese stacks. Strive to use the simplest form of the word, which is the easiest to read and understand. Avoiding these zombie nouns also helps you avoid the passive voice and other pitfalls of writing—more on that below. 

2. Avoid Abbreviations

Sure, pack your notes and emails to cohorts with abbreviations, but when writing for the rest of us, please spell it out. Words instead of abbreviations let the sentence flow, pulling your readers through your writing. Unless an abbreviation is part of mainstream language—ETA, LSD—write it out the first time you use it, for example, “extended column test (ECT)”. Write it out again if it hasn’t been used in a while. If it’s short when written out, then just write it out every time. 

We measured ECTP on SW. →  The extended column test propagated on southwest aspects. 

I took a Rec 1 from OMS. →  I took a recreational level 1 avalanche course from Oregon Mountain School. 

3. Use the Active Voice

When possible, avoid passive verb forms of “to be” —is, was, were, there is, and there was. Speak directly to the reader in the active voice. In the active voice, the subject of the sentence performs the action expressed by the verb. Get rid of the verb “to be,” rearrange the sentence, and it becomes direct and vigorous. Also, if you, the writer, are doing the action, using the pronouns “I” or “we” will give your sentences life and make them easier to understand. For example, 

The food was eaten by the cat. → The cat ate the food. 

The observation was conducted... → We observed... 

Pits are dug by the forecaster. → The forecaster digs pits. 

Write as you would speak to your readers. Read aloud what you’ve just written. If it sounds turgid, pompous, or incoherent, fix it. Change the wording so that it flows in a natural way. Speaking your written words also helps detect when to switch to the active voice. 

4. Use Simple Words

If several words have the same meaning, use the simplest, most specific, and familiar, and use it consistently. Avoid ambiguous and abstract words in favor of concrete words that explain ideas in terms of human actions and sensory information. For example,

AIARE 1 → level 1 avalanche course

manage → reduce, avoid 

mitigate → get rid of 

Other ways to simplify wording include,

at this point in time → now

due to the fact that → because

a large quantity of → many

Writing with concrete and simple words shows that you know the subject, want your topic to be understood, and care about your readers. Add a few words to define technical terms. Even knowledgeable readers find comfort in already knowing some of what you are telling them. Plus, your writing will actually be readable and applied. 

5. Rewrite, Let it Cool, and Share

Putting words on paper is just the start. First drafts are rarely clear enough to get your message across. The meat of writing is rewriting, followed by rewriting, and then rewriting again and again. Eventually, your writing will appear perfect. It will make total sense and you’ll understand exactly what you’re trying to say. The problem is you’ve become blind to your writing. Let your article cool off for a day or two, then revisit it with fresh eyes. Better yet, let it sit for a week or a month before rewriting. You’ll be surprised by the gobbledygook you wrote earlier. 

Another important step is to share your draft with readers who you respect, partners or coworkers. They don’t need to be experts in your field; you simply want them to be able to understand your writing. Listen to what they say. If you feel like you need to explain something to them, go work on that sentence. If they say, “I think I understand what you’re saying,” they don’t. Go work on that part of your writing. If they only say, “Looks great!,” thank them and go find a more critical reviewer who will help improve your writing. 

References

  • Chip Heath and Dan Heath, 2007, Made to Stick

  • Steven Pinker, 2014, A Sense of Style

  • William Strunk and E. B. White, 2000, The Elements of Style

  • Helen Sword, 2012, Nominalizations Are Zombie Nouns, The New York Times.

Thank you for helping with this article: Emma Walker, Lynne Wolf, and Molly Stock. 

Skiing By Fair Means

In 1997 Adrian Nature climbed to the North summit of Denali and skied alone down the 14,000-foot Wickersham Wall, the biggest face in North America. Rumor has it, at one point the skiing became so steep that he tossed his pack, retrieving it further down. Then he fell but managed to stop. Hours later, Nature crossed the flooding Muldrow River. It was the first solo and continuous ski descent of the face. A feat accomplished using his own power, starting from the base of the mountain, climbing to the top and skiing back down. Nature skied the Wickersham Wall by fair means.

The term by fair means describes climbing mountains using your strength and ability, while not degrading the mountain to make the ascent easier. By fair means is the purest style of mountaineering. It follows a set of unwritten ethics established by the mountaineering community. The same concepts of mountaineering by fair means can be applied to skiing. 

By fair means was coined by English mountaineer Albert Mummery, who in 1880 backed off the coveted first ascent of the Dent du Géant, a 4,000-meter tooth of rock on the Mont Blanc massif in France. Upon defeat, Mummery said, "Absolutely inaccessible by fair means!" The first ascent of the Dent du Géant came later, in 1882, using iron stanchions, fixed rope and chipped steps. The route is now equipped with thick ropes for climbing hand-over-hand to avoid 5.10 rock climbing.

Without style and ethics in the mountains, what do we really have?
— Jones and Fabrikant, 2024 AAJ. 

By fair means is a style of moving through the mountains. It describes the manner, skill and equipment used. For example, the best mountaineers use alpine style to move fast and light, as a self-sufficient unit up the mountain. Alpinists—those who climb in alpine style—avoid using fixed ropes, fixed camps, or bottled oxygen. Such as the recent alpine-style ascent of the north face of Jannu. Alpine style is the antithesis of expedition style, where high altitude mountains are climbed by any means necessary: large teams, bottled oxygen, porters, fixed ropes and bolts.  

Imagine using a step ladder to dunk a basketball.
— Mark Jenkins, The Elements of Style

For skiing, the most common style is mechanized skiing. A machine—chairlift, gondola, snowcat, snowmobile, or helicopter—lifts the skier to the top of the run. The difficulty of the mountain has been reduced, making it attainable for more skiers, like expedition style. 

Backcountry skiing is equivalent to alpine style. The skier starts at the base of the mountain, ascends the mountain using their skill and strength before making the run. The mountain is approached on its own terms, without using aids to make it easier, or degrading the mountain. 

Where exactly is the line between mechanized skiing and skiing by fair means? Most backcountry skiers use cars to get to the trailhead. What if a snowmobile is used for a ten-mile approach, before climbing to the summit? Is that backcountry skiing? Is that by fair means? It becomes an ethical gray area. In alpinism, the community has drawn an acceptable line. As the late alpinist Hayden Kennedy said, "It's not a kindergarten black and white...the naked free solo."

Part of what bolsters the credentials of skiing by fair means is that it foregoes a guaranteed outcome. While you may want to climb and ski a mountain, there’s a good chance you won’t. An equally likely outcome is to fail because of weather, avalanche conditions, strength or skill. The summit or a glorious descent are not guaranteed. By fair means requires a mindset shift to seeing failure as equal to success, and style as more important than success. It’s “more of an art and less of a conquest,” writes alpinist Kelly Cordes. We approach nature on its own terms and be challenged. Then nature often wins, like it's supposed to. 

The quality of the experience and how we solve a problem is more important than whether we solve it. We strive to leave no trace.
— Tyrol Declaration

Another beautiful aspect of skiing by fair means is that it’s slow. Not only does it take time to climb the mountain, but it takes years to acquire the skiing and avalanche skills. Those years of practice build appreciation for the mountains. Likewise, the time-consuming act of climbing the mountain gives more appreciation for the mountains, not just a myopic focus on the summit or the brief descent. The anticipation and delayed gratification of possibly skiing the peak, or arriving back at the base of the mountain alive, brings greater highs when success is achieved and greater lows from failure. All that leads to happiness. Ultimately, happiness is what we’re after. 

It’s time we... searched again for the limits of possibility—for we must have such limits if we are going to use the virtue of courage to approach them.
— Rheinhold Messner, The Murder of the Impossible

A final positive note about by fair means is that it demonstrates a world-view. Backcountry skiers know that wild places on Earth are few. Skiing by fair means saves those wild places for everyone. Foregoing the archaic attitude of man over nature. 

Even the most diehard practitioners of by fair means find themselves in that ethical grey area. I use helicopters and airplanes for skiing. Sometimes to reach summits, sometimes to base camps and sometimes to fly to other countries to ski. My preferred method of skiing, though, is to park along the highway, skin and climb to a summit, and then ski back to the car. If I do use a machine to get up the hill, I try to acknowledge that there is a better style. That I am playing foosball, when I could be kicking a real ball. 

More Reading

  • Albert, Jason and Fabrikant, Adam 2024, Grand Descents: A Half Century of Ski Alpinism in the Tetons, American Alpine Journal.

  • Cordes, Kelly, 2014, The Tower: A Chronicle of Climbing and Controversy on Cerro Torre

  • Messner, Reinhold, 1971, The Murder of the Impossible, Mountain #15. 

  • Jenkins, Mark, 2005, The Elements of Style: It's time for a radical reform of high-altitude mountaineering and a fresh debate over what it means to climb right, Outsideonline.com, www.outsideonline.com/1909956/elements-style

  • Kennedy, Hayden, 2012, The Enormocast, Episode 7, an interview with Hayden Kennedy: Alpine Taliban or Patagonian Custodian? Part 2. 

  • The Tyrol Declaration on Best Practice in Mountain Sports, www.theuiaa.org/upload_area/files/1/tyrol_declaration(0).pdf