What To Do In An Avalanche

So, you’re hiking up a beautiful mountain, the snow is pristine, and everything is just perfect. Then you hear a sound like a freight train farting inside a washing machine. That, my friend, is an avalanche, and your nice day just took a sharp left turn.

Step One: Don't Panic (Easier Said Than Done)

When the ground starts moving under you, your brain will suggest screaming and flailing like a cat in a bathtub. Fight that urge. Panic is the enemy here; it burns up your oxygen and makes you do dumb stuff. Instead, think of it as an unwanted sled ride, one you definitely didn’t pay for.

Your first job is to get rid of your gear. Drop your ski poles, shovel, and backpack. Imagine you’re a superhero shedding a heavy coat to fly—except you’re about to be tumbled into a white abyss. Anything that can snag on a tree or drag you down is a liability.

Swim for Your Life

Now, start swimming. Not like you’re doing laps at the YMCA, but like you’re being chased by a shark made of snow. Use a freestyle stroke to paddle toward the surface and the edge of the slide. The snow acts like a liquid—you can kind of steer yourself, even though it feels hopeless.

Think of it like a mosh pit at a bad concert: you don’t fight the crowd, you swim through it. If you sink, you become a human bowling ball, which isn’t great for your bones. Keep your head above the flow as long as possible.

When the Ride Stops: The Silence

The avalanche will eventually stop, and it gets real quiet, real fast. Like that awkward pause after you tell a bad joke at a dinner party. The snow sets up like concrete, so if you’re buried, you have to act immediately before it hardens.

7 Tips For Avalanche Survival | ShadowFox

As you’re tumbling, punch one arm straight up toward the sky. This might sound stupid, but it creates an air pocket and marks your location for rescuers. It’s like raising your hand in class, except the teacher is a rescue dog, and the class is a cold, dark tomb.

Create an Air Pocket

If you feel the snow stopping, cup your hands over your mouth and nose to make a little breathing bubble. This buys you precious minutes. Snow is heavy—like sleeping under twenty wet blankets while someone stands on your chest. That air pocket is your lifeline.

Now, do not scream. It wastes oxygen, and snow absorbs sound like a sponge. You’ll sound like a mouse whispering under a pillow. Instead, listen for rescuers and breathe slowly to conserve air. Think calm thoughts, like you’re waiting for a pizza that’s taking too long.

Aftermath: The Cold, Wet Walk of Shame

If you’re not buried, congratulations. You just survived a real-life disaster movie. But you’re probably disoriented, missing a glove, and feeling like you got tossed in a dryer full of ice cubes. Check your body for injuries—adrenaline hides pain like a bad friend.

How to Survive an Avalanche: 11 Steps (with Pictures) - wikiHow

Now, the weird part: you have to help others if you can. Turn your phone to airplane mode to save battery, then dial emergency services. If you have a transceiver, switch it to search mode. It’s like playing a very serious game of hide-and-seek with a deadline.

Real Talk: Avoid the Whole Mess

Of course, the best way to handle an avalanche is to never be in one. Check the avalanche forecast before you go out. That report is like a weather forecast for “danger-slides,” and ignoring it is like not looking both ways before crossing a highway.

Carry a beacon, shovel, and probe, and know how to use them. An avalanche kit in your trunk won’t help if it’s buried under your camping gear from 2008. Practice with your buddies until it feels like second nature—like a fire drill, but with more snow and fewer alarms.

And finally, trust your gut. If the slope looks “sus” like a questionable gas station sushi roll, pick another route. The mountain will be there tomorrow. Your life? Not so much. Stay safe, stay smart, and maybe stick to the groomed runs unless you’re feeling really ambitious.