Ken Wylie - Buried — Updated Edition

KEN WYLIE is an internationally certified mountain guide and a member of the International Federation of Mountain Guides Associations, the Association of Canadian Mountain Guides and the American Mountain Guides Association. Originally from Alberta, Canada, he has led expeditions worldwide, in Canada, New Zealand and Peru as well as to Denali and Joshua Tree. Kens 30 years of experience as a mountain guide and experiential educator includes work for such organizations as Yamnuska Mountain School, Outward Bound Canada and Outward Bound USA . Ken founded Mountains for Growth in 2013 to help individuals and groups gain personal insight and wisdom through outdoor adventures.

This book is dedicated to the families and friends who lost the following loved ones at La Traviata on January 20, 2003, in the Selkirk Mountains of British Columbia:
Dave Finnerty
Naomi Heffler
Craig Kelly
Kathy Kessler
Ralph (Vern) Lunsford
Jean-Luc Schwendener
Dennis Yates

Several people deserve special mention because they were stewards of the book the entire way. My mother, Sylvia, was skeptical about the project at the start, but grew in her support, perspective and belief, which in the end was priceless. Barbara Michelsen housed us for many months during several stages of the writing and provided great conversations and exchanges of ideas. Mark Millers friendship, honest feedback and ability to listen helped me focus on what was important through the process of living in the work. My sisters, Shauna Gill and Debbie Mayer, were there for me in supporting the book, and our relationship has grown in ways that are immeasurable because of it. And finally, Keith Haberl understood this journey without me having to explain anything.

I would also and especially like to thank the following family members of the avalanche victims: Howard Heffler, Brian Kelly, Gillian Kelly, Scott Kessler, Lizbeth Kranabitter, Corinna Laemmerzahl, Peter Millar, Annie Polucha, Carol Schneider-Yates and Janet Witzler. All of you had the courage to connect with me in person, by email or over the telephone. Each of you respected the story I had to tell without judgment and with compassion. I value the lessons each of you taught me. All of you contributed more than I can say to this book. Bless all of you for your generosity and forgiveness.

Many people have also helped me to write this book by reading the manuscript, giving me their feedback verbally or in writing, and supporting a multitude of aspects of this project. These people are this books community and are presented here in alphabetical order: Lindsay Andersen, Leanne Allison, Frank Baumann ( RIP ), Nicholas Beer, William Bjrndahl, Lynn Bowering, John Buffery, Mike Burgess, Myrl Coulter, Gwen Curry, Jamie Cowan, Danielle Daniel, Tony Daffern, Mary Ellen Donnan, Bruce Elkin, Paddy Gerome, Charles Goodsell, Curtis Green, Scott Gullion, Diny Harrison, Karsten Heuer, Jan Redford , Charlotte Hughes, Scott Kennedy, Jayson Krause, Giovanna Longhi, Warren MacDonald, Eric Malone, Dennis McDade, Megan Michelson, Mark Miller, Lynn Moorman, Jeff Nazarchuk, Julian Norris, Joe Pavelka, Randy Richards, Laura Robinson, Beth Rutter, Anne Ryall, Rivanne Sandler, Chic Scott, Marilyn Simonds, Lena Soots, Brian Spear, Rochelle Squires, Larry Stanier, Steve Swenson, Margo Talbot, Dharini Woolcombe, Sharon Wood and Daryl Wylie.

I am also grateful for the efforts of the many people who experienced the avalanche and other events in this book and shared their stories with me. Their recollections, notes and letters made a huge difference in the final manuscript by jogging my memory with large and small events: Heidi Biber, Charles Bieler, Jeff Bullock, Eduardo Figueroa, Diny Harrison, Jeff Nazarchuk, Eric Malone, Joe Pojar, Rick Reynolds, John Siebert and Bruce Stewart. I would also like to thank those who assisted me in researching the event: Hugh Finlay, Bruce Jameson, Paul Maloney, Chico Newell (B.C. coroner), Dave Stark, the late Randy Starkman, Larry Stanier and Ilya Storm.

The anchors of this book are the belief, courage and vision of publisher Don Gorman and his team at Rocky Mountain Books. This book took courage to edit, print and stand behind, and Don has been like a rock through the entire process. I am also grateful to Karl Siegler, the editor who kept demanding both more and less from me and had the brilliance to know how to draw out what was in me the whole time. And to Chyla Cardinal, who made it all look good.

The Durrand Glacier

The pilot deftly lands the yellow, orange, red and blue helicopter on the level pad to the east of the chalet cradled by the Selkirk Mountains that soar to the heights in all directions. The inverted mushroom cloud of snow whirled up by the main rotor disperses as the helicopters motor winds down to a high-pitched idle. Formidable glaciers tumble down the steep valleys of the surrounding craggy, snowy peaks.

The Selkirks offer all the key ingredients for backcountry skiing: exciting terrain, remoteness, abundance of snow and temperatures cold enough to make most of the snow that does fall light and fluffy. They arguably constitute the best mountain range on Earth to ski. Backcountry skiers call this Tiger Country. Not for the faint of heart, the combination of steep slopes, deep snow and dramatic glaciation makes ski touring here serious business.

The chalet is a quaint brown wooden structure with red shutters and Swiss gingerbread accents. It sits on a knoll at 6,360 feet, in the subalpine above Cairns Creek, out of reach of avalanches. In the summer it is surrounded by beautiful alpine meadows and small groves of stunted subalpine fir trees. Its massive wraparound wooden deck, now shovelled clear of snow, provides a place for guests to gaze upon spectacular peaks like Tumbledown Mountain, Mount Ruth and Diamond Peak, and the Cairns Creek valley far below.

The guests that come here intend to ski between five and six thousand human-powered vertical feet per day, all of it gained on the way up by using stick-on synthetic seal skins that allow one to ascend the peaks before skiing down them in a single run. During a typical week, a group will ski between 35 and 50 thousand vertical feet climbed one stride at a time, the enormous effort of the ascent enriching each exhilarating turn on the way down.

With my hat, ski goggles and ear protectors on, I open the helicopter doors on the left side. Using non-verbal commands in the deafening noise, I point the new guests to the snowy trail that leads to the chalet. With my other gloved hand in the stop position, I communicate to the overzealous outgoing guests to wait in the safe zone away from the rotating blades. Then I move to the helicopters tail boom compartment, open the door and unload the incoming packs and duffle bags. Once done, I load the orange-flagged outgoing luggage, careful to get a good fit so that the cargo hold is filled to capacity, and close and secure the door. Now Ruedi Beglinger walks over with the outgoing guests that we skied with all last week and coaches them into the machine. With a slow, deliberate pace, I walk around the nose of the aircraft to the right side and unload incoming skis and snowboards from the long white ski basket mounted on the machines right-hand skid, keeping them horizontal so they do not hit the main rotor. In the same careful way, I then load the orange-flagged outgoing skis. With the ski basket refilled, I close it with the two red-handled latches, double-checking them for security. Next, I crouch down on the right side of the machine beside the pilot, whom I now recognize as Paul Maloney. Ruedi makes a visual check with me and I see him give Paul the thumbs-up. The engine gains speed and momentum. With the rhythmic thump of the rotor blades, the helicopter becomes seemingly weightless, lifts off the ground, clears the outhouse, and then uses the steep drop-off down the Cairns Creek valley to gain speed and additional lift.