Avalanche Deployment Tactics

There are two decisive factors impacting survival in an avalanche: the length of time the victim is buried and access to air. In a real avalanche situation, every second counts. On average, almost half of all avalanche victims are completely buried. In three-quarters of these cases, the victims’ airways are obstructed by a dense, weighty mass of snow, which means that they have great difficulty breathing.

• If they are found within fifteen minutes, their survival chances are high (in this survival phase, around 8 per cent of victims succumb to their injuries, but 92 per cent survive).

• After twenty minutes, the mortality curve drops rapidly; the probability of survival goes down to 50 per cent.

• After thirty-five minutes under the snow, the probability of survival is down to 30 per cent. This is the asphyxia phase, when two in every three victims die.

• Only around 25 per cent of victims live past thirty-five minutes, thanks in those cases to access to a pocket of air in front of the face.

Victims having access to a pocket of air can live thirty minutes to two hours. After that, they usually die due to hypothermia and the gradual exhaustion of the oxygen because of icing at the walls of the air pocket. Mind you, this is only people who are buried at a depth of two yards or less. Victims with a large pocket of air or air from the surface via a shaft of an arm or leg can survive for over two hours. This situation accounts for about 3 per cent of victims.

It is much easier to search for a single skier than for a group. In the Austrian Alps, we often see groups being buried in an avalanche. Often they were skiing off-piste during the higher ranks on the avalanche danger scale: three (considerable), four (high), or even five (extreme)! If there happens to be a survivor in the group, this person has to start searching and digging for buried victims on his or her own.

The golden rule for off-piste skiing or snowboarding, in particular on steep, open, wind-loaded slopes, is one at a time. Should an avalanche occur, the rest of the group can search, alert rescue services, and help dig.

In operation tactics, it’s important to know that statistically you only have about fifteen minutes to recover a buried victim alive. This means you don’t have time to go for help. We therefore distinguish between comrade help and an organized rescue operation.

In using the golden rule for off-piste skiing or snowboarding—one person at a time—the other members of the group should wait in safer areas: on mounds, behind rock outcrops, and definitely not in the path of a potential avalanche. Exposed traverses should be test-skied by a single group member while the others watch, and when traversing or climbing together in danger areas, keep a large, even gap between the members of the group.

If you follow this easy rule, then only one person should get caught in an avalanche. Remember the last place you saw the victim before he or she disappeared under the snow. The victim will be buried downhill from that point. Mark the point where the victim disappeared with a ski pole, ski, or bag pack. Depending on the conditions, someone can act as a spotter to alert for secondary avalanches, and this person can also telephone rescue services with the precise location of the accident.

Immediately start a beacon search. It is important to set all avalanche transceivers to search mode. In the meantime look for visual clues (e.g., gloves, helmets, or skis). If you see a glove or ski, check to see if it is connected to a victim. Are there fingers in the glove? Is the ski attached to a boot? In some searches we’ve been on, gear on the snow surface was still connected to the victim. But the strength of the avalanche can also tear a hat or backpack from a person. If a person used an airbag pack, it would make him or her bigger, which helps keep the person on the surface, but airbag packs are not designed to provide protection from trauma.

Once you’ve located, pinpointed, and probed for the victim, begin digging downhill of the location so you have somewhere to throw the snow. The idea is to trench towards victims rather than standing on top of them while you dig. Digging directly above the victim can also destroy a lifesaving air pocket. Once you reach the victim, perform first aid if necessary. Check the victim’s airway, breathing, and pulse. Check for other injuries and provide appropriate treatment. Most importantly, shield the victim from outside cold and wind with space blankets or your own body, and cold from the snow walls with insulation mats. Complete a thorough evaluation of the victim’s injuries before you call for help or send someone for help.

In an organized rescue operation, searching with avalanche dogs has priority over other search methods, including search equipment, and should be started immediately. Searching an avalanche with dogs has much in common with searching with dogs in rubble areas. The dog’s initial search will be superficial—a hasty search. The first avalanche dog can search the whole area at a high tempo for lightly buried victims. Wherever a dog hesitates, that place has to be marked and later searched by another dog or in a fine search by the same dog. At a very clear alert, and after assessment of the body position with an avalanche probe, dig the victim out quickly but carefully.

After a hasty search, the dog can switch to the fine search, where the handler systematically lets the dog go more slowly and intensively over the different areas of the avalanche. The whole avalanche area (slab and run out, or deposition zone) has to be kept clear of people to at least ten yards past the edge of the avalanche, because that will be the dog’s search area. The dog may pick up traces of someone who was thrown outside the path. As soon as the dogs continue on past areas already searched, other rescue teams can do their work with other equipment.

Because of an ice slab, an odor can be redirected many yards away from the victim. That’s why the avalanche dog should stay in the vicinity of an alert, as the search and rescue dog does on the rubble, to give its direction-showing alerts for further digging. Besides, the dog gets a second reward for finding the victim—the rescue workers’ and the handler’s relief at finding the victim is also noticeable to the dog.

Make sure the base camp and places for searching are safe. It is important that rescuers are not exposed to additional avalanche hazards. The actual avalanche path is usually safe if there isn’t significant “hang fire” remaining above the slide. After a slab avalanche, hang fire is the portion of the slope at the crown or flanks that does not release and may still be unstable.

The base camp with the dog bivouacs has to be located far enough away from the search field that the dogs have no problems with the odor of the camp. This place has to be investigated for avalanche danger also.

The operational leader has a megaphone or a walkie-talkie connecting him or her with other searches. Any information the operational leader wants should be provided immediately. The leader investigates what happened directly and creates a simple plan of the area on which searched areas can be crossed off. Trees and other landmarks are marked on the plan. The operational leader organizes an avalanche spotter, who watches the area from high on the slope and warns of any more avalanches so that the helpers can leave the work area in time to find a safe place. The leader orders the avalanche area marked on all sides with flags (by day) and with flares (at night), so that the area of the accident is clearly marked. If a heavy snowfall occurs, the whole area could be covered within twenty minutes and all traces of the avalanche hidden.

Figure 12.20 Organized rescue operation. In the debris toe, the best search method with the probe row is the fine search with grids of about a foot square (30 x 30 cm). With a fine search, you cannot miss a human body unless it is more than ten feet (3 m) deep. At other places, you can better do the hasty search using grids of two feet by two feet (70 x 70 cm), but then there is a chance you will miss a body.

The primary search area in an avalanche starts at the point where a person saw someone being taken by the avalanche (if anyone witnessed it), over the point where the victim was seen disappearing into the snow and up to the run out of the avalanche, in the so-called debris toe or deposition zone. Other primary areas to search are the stauchwall: places where the avalanche was held up, such as on rock points, trees, side-streets, roads, small paths, walls of old avalanches, and up slopes. Anywhere the avalanche changed direction is also a primary search area. Furthermore, any area where dogs search intensively but don’t directly give an alert can become a primary search area for a subsequent avalanche dog. Such places could be marked.

An avalanche behaves like a river running down a slope: it is slower at the flanks and where it comes into direct contact with the ground. This behavior impacts the search area and locations where victims may be found. Someone carried along the central axis will generally be found in the debris toe. Otherwise, victims could be anywhere, especially if the track of the avalanche is curved. The snow on the flanks of the avalanche moves a little more slowly, so someone caught up in this mass will be found higher in the debris toe.

Figure 12.22 Given enough time, a dog will happily dig through a deep layer of snow.

Figure 12.23 An odor may be detoured by the layers of ice in the snow, emerging several yards from where the victim is buried.

Figure 12.24 After giving an alert, the avalanche dog should remain near the search area to indicate the direction of the scent trail during digging if necessary.

“A lot of skiers believe they know and can do everything, just because they can go down a slope without any problem!”

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.

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.

I switch my avalanche beacon from transmitting to receiving, but I hear nothing. Probably the skiers had no avalanche beacons. For my own safety, I switch my beacon back to transmitting during the search operation, but every now and then I try again to receive a signal. Meanwhile Eva is running over the snow area. She is an experienced avalanche dog, who, like our German Shepherd, Bor, has done many previous missions. She knows exactly what is required of her. The big chunks of snow are not making it easy to follow my dog, but on her own Eva is beginning with the hasty search of the avalanche surface. With that search method we can find any lightly buried victims quickly. And we are lucky, because 160 feet (50 m) from me she is already digging frantically. The snow is being thrown up high by her digging and Eva proves the aptness of her nickname, The Bulldozer, once again. When she thinks I am not coming fast enough, she barks at me and then digs some more.

Figure 12.26 Excited, I follow Eva during her search over the immense surface of snow.

I give the physician a signal, but he has seen it already and is coming in our direction. The small part of the arm visible in the snow makes it clear that Eva was right again; for that matter, I didn’t expect anything else. “Good girl, well done,” I say and push her aside a bit to dig carefully with my avalanche shovel somewhat downhill from the location of the arm. Eva knows that she can’t disturb me now and watches me from a short distance. I notice she is restless, as if she knows that there is another victim buried under the snow. She is obviously relieved to run over the snow again, after my “Good girl, search further.” I observe her as best as I can while digging. The physician assists me with digging, and shortly after that we free the head of a young man about twenty years old. He is still alive! While the physician takes care of him, I dig his legs free of snow. I observe that these are lying in a strange position and show the physician. Broken, that is clear, but at least he is alive. How often we’ve found skiers in other circumstances.

I follow Eva again, but in that gigantic snow mass, I can’t move quickly. I see that she sniffs a bit longer on one spot and I hope for an alert. But she walks away and searches further. On the spot she was sniffing, I prick with the avalanche probe into the snow. Could she have smelled someone here, yes or no? Or was it something else, such as the boy’s backpack? I touch something soft with the probe: a body? I bring the probe back up and prick half a yard further away again into the snow. Now I discover that I can go deeper with the probe into the snow, so I am beside the obstacle beneath the snow now. When I can go deeper on all sides, I know this can’t be a human body. With a red stick out of my backpack, I mark the place for later searching.

In the meantime, the rest of the rescue team has arrived, and the boy is transported to the helicopter. Hypothermia and broken limbs, that is for sure, but alive. There is, however, no time for congratulations, because the physician yells to us that the boy was on a ski tour with his father. Where can the father be?

Eva has covered almost the whole area of the deposition zone. Suddenly she stands still and then looks directly to the right and speeds up her pace. I know she has something in her nose. It’s never fast enough for me when she is interested in a certain place. She sniffs the odor deep in her nose, scratches the top of the snow and smells again very intensively. Seconds come to seem like hours before she gives a sort of primitive cry and begins to scratch furiously. This is the signal we were waiting for! Quick digging starts, while two members of the rescue team check the spot with their avalanche probes. We discover that the victim is buried almost ten feet (3 m) under heavy snow. A bad indication for survival chances!

Meanwhile, there are enough colleagues from the mountain rescue team digging, so I can concentrate on my dog. She is not as cheerful as usual, as if she understands the seriousness of the situation, but she is excited. Whether searching in buildings collapsed by gas explosions or earthquakes or in an avalanche, there isn’t much difference. Every time, the dogs prove that only they are able to locate buried people quickly. While I play with her, I think of all those missions I have had with her and my other dogs. I count the number of people who have survived because of my dogs and that makes me feel proud. But the dead people they have found are also still on my mind. The call of the operational leader breaks off my meditations, and I see how he has divided his crew into more groups for digging. The digging goes slowly because of the heavy snow and ice layers, and the snow has to be dug from the sides to make room for the salvage. By having them work in groups, he gives his people the chance to rest now and then.

Figure 12.27 Despite the quick work of an avalanche dog, help often comes too late.

With Eva I walk to the place where we think the backpack is under the snow, and I start to dig there. It is not easy to scoop the packed and frozen snow away, but after the necessary exertion I indeed find a backpack. I shake off the snow and open it up. It is the father’s backpack, because in one of the sections I find his driver’s license. He is a forty-two-year-old man from Germany. I bring the backpack to the operational leader. He gives me a nod of approval. They have almost reached the body, I see, because they are digging very quickly, but also carefully. As soon as the head of the man is free, the physician bows over him while the others dig further. The physician orders haste, because the unconscious man is still alive. His body temperature, however, is down to a minimum and he is in danger of dying. Shortly the man is on his way by helicopter to a special clinic for victims of avalanches. Unfortunately, he didn’t survive.

We thought that might be the case as we left the avalanche area. Despite the quick work of an avalanche dog, help often comes too late. Almost every avalanche is fatal, and the number of dead that we find under the snow each year is, unfortunately, greater than number of people whose lives we save. There is a great danger of suffocation because snow sticks in the airways and the extreme cold causes hypothermia in the buried person. After half an hour under the snow, the chance of surviving is only about 30 per cent. Claims that avalanche dogs can be sent from lowland countries to help people in the Alps are nonsense. They would arrive much too late. Only avalanche dogs stationed in the vicinity can save human lives.

Figure 12.28 Ruud and Eva. The handler and dog form a team in which each member has specific skills.

Natural disasters in recent years have proven beyond any doubt that only search and rescue dogs can locate victims under rubble quickly and effectively. To achieve that end, dogs and handlers require serious, professional training. The training and missions of search and rescue dog teams often demand great sacrifices and efforts from handlers and dogs. But the results make everything worthwhile.

This work is usually unpaid, because search and rescue dog work usually happens on a voluntary basis. For each search and rescue dog handler, the handshake of a person found or the gratitude of next of kin means much more than compensation for expenses.

Salvaging people alive is a tremendous stimulus for the handler, as well for the dog, to go on with this work. Search and rescue dogs can also locate dead people with faultless precision, so that they can be salvaged, too. This salvage means a lot to the next of kin, because it ends the uncertainty in a period of restless hoping and waiting, without being able to do anything. Both searches require close teamwork between search and rescue dogs and handlers.

Around the world, we have found more than once that the professional and responsible training of search and rescue dog teams—both dog and handler—is vital. Such a team must undergo serious and intensive training to prepare for their future tasks. Sadly, we have found that search and rescue dog work also attracts people who abuse this work with dogs for their own honor and glory, or who use their certificates to impress people or increase the value of their puppies.

Optimal training of search and rescue dogs requires that you use the natural characteristics of the dog. The dog’s potential determines to a great degree whether it should be trained for this work, and how. It is the handler’s task to try to get everything possible out of the dog, which is often more than one thinks. The dog’s potential will really be determined by the handler’s limitations.

To use all a dog’s potential, there has to be a tremendous bond between dog and handler. They have to know each other very well, which means that both the handler and the dog in every situation and at every moment know that they support each other. The handler has to trust the dog in full, just as the dog has to know it can trust its handler.

Search and rescue dogs can only reach their potential if they take great pleasure in their work. They have to pursue their work with enthusiasm. That has a great deal to do with both the training method and the temperament and mentality of the handler. How well the dog works depends on it.

This work cannot be founded on pressure tactics. There has to be cooperation between the handler and the dog based on confidence from both sides.

More than once we have seen firsthand where pressing a dog to perform can lead. As an example, we once had a foreign handler training with us from a unit where the dogs were pressed to bark when they found a victim. Because his dog didn’t bark easily, he tried to get the dog to bark with all sorts of tricks. The result was that the moment the dog detected human odor beneath the rubble, he was inclined to walk away from the spot! Clearly he’d had an unpleasant experience at the location of a helper and wanted to avoid more of the same.

That handler had to first take several steps back in his training to make his dog enthusiastic again for finding victims. Fortunately, he gradually backed away from the idea that dogs have to bark when they find a victim. The further development of the natural behavior the dog shows at locating a victim generates, in the hard reality of this work, a much more accurate alert.

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