Avalanche
Dan Samelson probably
never knew what hit him
By Miles Blumhardt
The Coloradoan
Skinning
up toward the south summit of Diamond
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Courtesy Bill Cotton
Getting ready: Searchers prepare
to dig out Dan Samelson from the debris field left by an
avalanche on Diamond Peak.
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Peak, Dan Samelson was all smiles.
And there was plenty to smile about.
Fall semester finals were over, a semester
in New Zealand was in his future, it was his first backcountry ski
outing of the year and finally he would have a chance to try out those
Black Diamond Purgatory telemark skis.
While a couple of buddies were building a
jump to catch some coveted snowboard air, Samelson continued to make
his way up above treeline to a site loaded with the promise of some
good turns.
He sat there removing the skins from his skis
and breathing in the breath-taking view of snow-covered evergreens
as far as the eye could see.
Then all hell broke lose.
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DAN SAMELSON
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The whoosh
of the slide prompted his companions 100 feet away to look up from
their jump building. But in the seconds it took to lift their heads,
the avalanche had consumed Samelson and all they saw was the horrific
view of sliding snow.
Back in Fort Collins, Samelson's roommate
and skiing partner Reno Saenger sat studying in the Morgan Library
for a final he should have been studying the day before. Had he not
procrastinated, he could have joined Samelson. Instead he was stuck
there, cramming his brains out for the finance final when the library's
public address system paged him.
Once upstairs, a weird sensation crept up
Saenger's spine when he saw his friends crying. When one of the friends
boarding with Samelson told Saenger the bad news and all hell broke
loose again, this time in a different location.
"When they told me, I pretty much got hysterical,"
Saenger said. "A sense of helplessness overwhelmed me when I thought
about Danny being up there and knowing I couldn't go up and help him.
Then I pretty much came to the realization that he was dead. You have
a 30-minute time frame, maybe, when you are trapped under the snow.
And when they told me how long ago it happened and that they hadn't
found him I knew he was dead."
A TICKING CLOCK
According to the search and rescue report,
two of Samelson's friends frantically dug into the avalanche debris
haphazardly with the only tool they had - their snowboards. Two other
friends who were trudging uphill briefly joined in the search but
then headed down the hill for help. The two friends originally with
Samelson then returned to the accident site before leaving to guide
additional skiers to the site to help with the search.
Due to the site's remoteness, searchers weren't
notified of the accident until 90 minutes after Samelson's disappearance.
Survivability under the snow of an avalanche quickly diminishes with
only 20 percent of victims found alive at 90 minutes.
After several hours of probing the snow for
Samelson, rescuers suspended the search shortly after dark due to
poor visibility and strong winds.
The next morning, it took specially trained
avalanche rescue dogs five minutes to find Samelson lying face up
with only six inches of snow between a hand and foot and the surface.
The slide was a relatively small one, measuring 1 1/2 to 2 feet deep
and 200 feet across and rumbling down the slope 200 yards.
However, an autopsy revealed Samelson had
died instantly from a fractured neck, presumably while the avalanche
shoved him over a rock outcropping. This is not as uncommon a way
to die in an avalanche as most think, especially in years of below
average snow cover. The fact is, shallow snow cover exposes an avalanche
victim to more rocks and other obstacles.
Last year the number of people caught in avalanches
in Colorado numbered 44, which is 45 percent fewer than average. However,
eight died, which is two more than average during the 1990s in Colorado.
"Had he not had the fractured neck, he would
have been able to sit up and get himself out," said Bill Cotton, a
Larimer County Search and Rescue member who helped find Samelson.
"The snow wasn't tightly compacted like where you get mummified. It
was loose enough to survive."
WHAT WENT WRONG?
Rodney Ley, director of Colorado State
University's Outdoor Adventure Program and under whom Samelson was
trained in avalanche awareness, said Samelson's exuberance likely
caused him to fail to heed the warning signs. He said an identifiable
wind slab lurked 50 feet next to where Samelson was last seen alive.
Samelson was no stranger to the rewards and
risks of
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Courtesy Bill Cotton
Deadly view: The avalanche that
killed Colorado State University student Dan Samelson on
Dec. 14, 1999, happened near Diamond Peak's summit.
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skiing Diamond Peak. He'd honed
and helped teach avalanche awareness skills and had skied it numerous
times.
"He had the skill and knowledge to recognize
potential danger but he let his guard down," Ley said. "They had been
in the spot digging a jump for over an hour and half and familiarity
set in. He probably knew it wasn't completely safe but his desire
to carve a few turns won out."
Cotton said other mistakes were made early
on that could have saved Samelson had he not suffered a fractured
neck.
He said in avalanche terrain such as on Diamond
Peak that party members must keep an eye on each other. That way if
an avalanche does catch a member, the others have a better chance
of quickly locating the victim. Also, despite most people's instincts
to go for help, he said the best chance of survival rests with those
closest by.
"In backcountry areas, you are the victim's
only hope and everybody on hand needs to help in the search," he said.
"It's a difficult call and it goes against our instinct in a situation
like to go for help but in an avalanche situation it really hurts
you."
Cotton said Samelson had access to avalanche
beacons but chose not to take them on the trip and in general the
group was poorly equipped to deal with a rescue. Ultimately, Cotton
said rescue errors wouldn't have mattered because Samelson was killed
instantly. However, he said it was disturbing that Samelson and his
partners failed to take adequate precautions given Samelson's experience
level.
Saenger, who worked with Samelson at the Outdoor
Adventure Program, said he didn't believe Samelson was overly careless
but agreed that his roommate might have lost respect for the mountain.
"They looked at the weather forecast and through
word of mouth they had heard that the slab was pretty stable," Saenger
said. "You go up there so much that after a while you don't respect
the place. You feel like you know the terrain so well that you don't
dig a pit and don't take all the extreme precautions that you normally
would.
"It's an unpredictable world out there. No
one wants to die and they didn't go up there having a death wish.
I think for the most part they were pretty smart and not reckless
by any means."
EMOTIONAL SCARS
Still the loss of Samelson, who grew up
in Colorado Springs in a family of outdoor types, hit his instructors,
searchers, family and friends hard.
Ley said he bears a great deal of remorse
but after struggling early on does not hold himself responsible for
Samelson's death.
"I took it pretty hard because I was responsible
for his outdoor education," Ley said. "I had done everything I could
to encourage him to improve his outdoor skills and worked him very
hard. Then he took all of that and died."
Cotton said the mood of rescuers changes dramatically
between looking for a victim and looking for a body.
"In this case, when you are looking the next
day, it's frustrating because you want to go up there with a chance,"
he said. "It's a terrible feeling for a lot of us who do these same
activities. It's very sobering. We know we are at the same risk as
the victim and here is where they are now."
Mike Samelson, the victim's brother who also
attends CSU, said the family spread his brother's remains over the
mountains. He said the accident rocked the family but that nearly
one year later it has found the strength to move on.
"You never get over this," he said. "No one
has taken it very well but we are dealing with it as best we can.
I never felt anger, just sadness. He was pretty much a happy kid his
entire life. I have a lot of good memories of him."
So does Michael Pierzshala, a college friend
of Samelson's. He was at a mutual friend's house the night before
the accident "chilling" and listening to Samelson play guitar. He
said there is a measure of comfort knowing Samelson was happy when
he was plucked from this world.
"The simplest way I can put it is that God
takes the best of them," he said. "Maybe, God wanted to have him for
his own good keeping. Maybe, it was just his time?"
Maybe. But it makes you wonder.
Dan Samelson died doing something he loved.
That doesn't make him less dead.
One minute that afternoon on Dec. 14, 1999
on Diamond Peak life was good. A minute later his life was over.
Statistically, Samelson's chances of dying
were slim. Consider:
n Last year,
1 in 10 people caught in avalanches died.
n When victims are buried by a
foot or less of snow, 85 percent survive.
n Although the area is prone to
avalanches, only one person out of thousands who frequent the area
has died on the peak.
But avalanches chew up and spit out statistics
like they do trees, rocks, people and anything else in their path.
His friends believe the 21-year-old Colorado
State University student died much too young. But did he have to die
at all, at least on that day?
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