While skiing with my sister Blanche in the Alps last summer,
I saw a dreadful avalanche about to overcome her.
And as it swept her down the slope I vaguely wondered whether
It would be wise to cut the rope that bound us both together.
I must confess I’m glad I did.........but still I miss the child - poor kid.

Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes - Harry Graham (1874 -1936)

If you can channel all the fear you feel for skiing into a phobia for avalanches, then you will have achieved two jobs in one. You will be able to concentrate on the job in hand, yet have a healthy respect for the terrain you are moving over. What has this to do with better skiing? Well, if you can understand a bit about avalanches, you will also learn a little more about the stuff you ski on and the mountains in general, and how to deal with different conditions.

Even the people who study them are still foxed by avalanches and occasionally killed by them; to forecast avalanches can sometimes be like forecasting the weather. There are just too many computations. If we take the two known extremes, there are some conditions that may be safe, and others that will certainly be dangerous.

Cold fresh snow consists of beautiful little crystals with sharp edges and points that act as hooks. After these pretty little things have touched down they get cosy with each other (but not immediately), and start to interlock under the influence of gravity - unlike humans, who rely on gluwein and a friendly smile etc.

So this tempting carpet of sparkling angel poop is lying there, all sort of joined up, waiting to be vandalised by the likes of you and me. Let's take this example: sixty centimetres of it has fallen during a cold night on to older well settled snow that is similar in texture to the new fall. The slope gradient averages 25 degrees with a large bump at the top, dropping away quite quickly, and then gradually sloping up towards the bottom. It looks orgasmic. The weather is cold and sunny, and the snow all fluffy when you kick it. Do you go? You bet your backside you do. But will you die? Well, in this situation you could be all right, and I'll explain why shortly.

Now take this second example, and this is the sort of scenario that comes to life yet brings only death, regularly taking out powder freaks every year. It has snowed sixty centimetres again during another cold night, but this time it has fallen onto old snow that has been blown by the wind into a thin smooth crust. The slope is the same, and looks just as good, but do you go? Of course you don't. And why not? Because if you do, you may not be around to finish this little book ... ...

In each example the fresh snow looks exactly the same on top, but why is the second one so dangerous? In the first example all the snowflakes have nestled into each other, and into the older snow beneath, but in the second case the new snow has not locked into the old. Also, in both cases, there is a point on top of the bump where the snow is under tension. The convex shape of the bump tends to stretch the snow crystals apart.

Lower down as the gradient slopes upwards, the snow is not under tension, and this concave shape tends to prevent the crystals from separating. In the first case a skier can cut the snow under tension, and some of it may come away, but because it is tied into the old snow underneath, it may hold. In the second example, however, there is no interlocking with the old snow, so when skis cut a swathe through the new stuff, especially where it is under tension on the bump, CRUMPH, and the lot goes, thundering down on the slippery base. As it comes to a stop near the bottom it builds up quite a pressure, and anyone who has been unfortunate enough to be carried down and buried underneath it, can be locked solid, unable to move even a finger. This kind of avalanche may not necessarily go just when or where it has been cut. It may wait until you are half way down and having a smoke break (although I hope you don’t smoke). Even noise and vibration can set it off. And it doesn’t need to be sixty centimetres deep. Sixty centimetres is about twenty inches; even four inches spread over a wide area can be lethal.

I have only mentioned a simple slab avalanche that kills regularly, but there are many more kinds that do the job just as well.

Both stable and unstable snow conditions depend on many factors, including weather conditions, altitude, surface structure, gradient, and depth of snowfalls. Wherever you ski, you can think about these things. How much snow is underneath you and how is the surface made up? Are you high up skiing over rocky ground above the tree line, or are you on dead grass low down in the meadows? What piste lies in the sun at different times of the day, and what shape will it be in during mid afternoon (a particularly popular time for avalanches late in the season)? Ask yourself these questions, and common sense will make you choose wisely. A steep narrow couloir, concave from side to side on a firm base, could hold, whereas powder snow on a lesser gradient lower down the mountain could go. Avalanches are like mushrooms; if you're not sure, don't touch them.

This is not really the book to start a technical dissertation on avalanches, but think about everything mentioned here, and you will get a feel for the stuff you are skiing on, a feel for the lie of the land, a feel for what lies under the snow. You will start to enjoy the mountains more. This is why I have lumped avalanches with snowcraft. One slides into the other - so to speak. If you can assess the snow type, temperature, and surface structure, you will be more aware of what you are skiing on, why it feels like it does, and what you should avoid.

Let me finish with a story about an avalanche. This was some time ago in 1973. Two men were skiing off piste in Geilo Norway in early March. The temperature was below freezing, perhaps minus 5 Celsius, the sun was shining and eight inches of fresh snow had fallen two nights before. They were walking under a six foot cornice over which some of the powder snow had been blown and settled into a small back bowl. The back bowl was no wider than a couple of hundred yards with a three hundred yard slope before it bottomed out into some birch trees, but for Geilo Norway it was something out of the ordinary and something special.

The man in front continued walking under the cornice while his friend, who was about three yards behind decided he couldn’t wait any longer and started off. After three turns he stopped and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He knew there was something wrong with the snow although he couldn’t say what it was. It may have been that most of it was blown snow although it was reasonably light, or it may have been a hard snow base he could feel underneath. Of course it could just have been his sixth sense. Whatever it was made him stop and turn to his friend, Benni, who had now moved a few more yards under the cornice.

If it’s possible to shout ‘Benni’ quietly that’s what he did. He then put his finger to his lips, and stuck his hand up in a sign to stop. Benni stopped. The skier took his skis off and treading as carefully as possible began to walk straight back up the hill. It was only about fifteen yards. At the very moment he reached the path under the cornice, there was a thud and the ground shook. It seemed as if the whole mountain was moving. A huge crack fifty yards long opened up just below their feet. The depth of the slab that had broken off was only eight inches deep yet it made a noise like a stampede of water buffalo. Within about five seconds the thundering stopped as the front end of the avalanche hit the upturn and the birch trees.

We both skied down on the firm base (I expect you‘ve guessed that I was Benni’s friend), and gaped at the six foot wall of snow that had piled up. It was set hard with great chunks of solid snow the size of suitcases welded into each other. We were very lucky; if we had been buried by this monster it would have already crushed the life out of us. If we had just been caught by an arm or a leg, it would have needed a spade to dig us out. If just our heads had been caught we would already have been suffocated.

This was a lesson early on in my skiing career that I have never forgotten. Of course there have been temptations since; fortunately, because of this early experience, I’ve been able to check myself or the people around me. It is tempting to go off into the great white yonder, but once again don’t be tempted to try anything you’re not sure of. Most of the locals, who are keen skiers, will quite happily tell you whether the conditions in such and such a place are all right, or whether they should be avoided like the plague. I’m not being a spoilsport because nine times out of ten with care you will be all right, but carry awareness and caution with you all the time.

Snowcraft to me means using the soles of your feet as well as the old grey matter to work for you. Next time you are standing still at the bottom of a lift, waiting for George, who has forgotten his ski pass, run your skis backwards and forwards on the snow. Do you see that solid little lump of snow the size of a pomegranate near the tips? Run one ski over it. Can you feel it? Just imagine how sensitive your foot must be. Even with your eyes closed you may be able to guess what it is. The signal, 'I am a pomegranate sized lump of snow', is travelling two feet back along the ski, half an inch through it, up through another half inch of boot, through a nice fresh sock, and into the sole of your foot, and you can still feel it. Wow! Now that George has turned up, go for a run, and start to FEEL where you are going. Move very slowly over an easy, empty piste and close your eyes for a moment. What can you feel through the soles of your feet?

You can extend this new found sensitivity further, and start gauging where to find the best snow, the worst ice, good grass skiing, etc. For example, following the sun does not necessarily give you the best snow conditions. Remember that during the day, the sun may warm up a southern facing slope, and provide nice spring snow, but from the start to the end of the day the conditions can vary from boiler plate ice through to slush. You can reckon this out from the time of year, the altitude, and the lie of the land.

Take another example. If you are skiing off piste, and the snow feels really heavy, you will learn that all may not be lost. The heavy snow might have had the sun on it for only half an hour, and gone cruddy, but the stuff just over the ridge, and still in slight shade, could be magic. If the slope is at a very high altitude, say at over 9,000 ft in the European Alps, the sun may never soften the snow up until late in the season, and it could lie powdery for days between snow falls. Snow on a north facing slope can be the best in a resort at any altitude, and although you may find your face getting cold, you often have the mountain to yourself. A sunny slope obviously attracts everyone, but it is hardly conducive to better skiing when all your concentration is channelled into avoiding that enormously fat woman careering across your path in the lilac shell suit. Okay, so you're only out for a week, and there's no point in going back to the Big Smoke (London) looking PALE, so why not spend an hour or so before the sun strengthens practising on a nice empty slope with good snow on it. There are such places.

Remember about mileage; once you have warmed up, ski hard and push yourself a bit, then slow down and concentrate on the snowcraft thing for a while. As the terrain changes from steep to gradual and back again, and the snow changes from yielding to icy and maybe to slush, feel what is happening to your weight, your balance, and how the snow is sliding under the skis. Try different turns. On steep bits try to see how many short linked turns you can do in a given distance. On gradual open pistes go for the long, fast, and smooth variety. When you get to bumps slow down, and using the bumps to unweight the skis, see how slowly you can go without stopping. This is a great exercise in the bumps and quite difficult! Notice that you speed up over the hard or icy steep side of a bump, and come to a sudden stop in all that loose stuff in the trough before the next one. You will have to combine running forward with some pretty fancy side slipping to keep up a constant slow speed.

If there is some fresh snow around next to the piste, have a go on that too, but remember that you are going to have to make radical alterations to your technique (see 'Off Piste'). Remember too that you will have to alter your technique often, even on different pisted conditions. If you can accept this at an early stage, you will realise that certain conditions are impossible for you to ski on. Be resigned about this and you will avoid a lot of frustration and depression. White outs, cloying slush, and boiler plate icy bumps are the worst conditions you will find on the piste, and will test your talents for survival to their limits. Simply regarding these conditions as a little local difficulty will keep you sane. A good lunch close to the cable car station or some other form of mountain transport to get you home is the best substitute.

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GLOSSARY