Avalanche in Norway

The analyse:berg issues are packed with sober figures and anonymous accident descriptions by the Alpine Police or experts. “Alpine technical reports”, in other words. Rarely do we have the opportunity to learn from the subjective experiences of others who have been involved in an avalanche accident. Even rarer is an accident in which a completely buried ski tourer has been successfully resuscitated. Stephan Birkmaier was the fully buried victim, his friend was partially buried and carried out the resuscitation. Both describe the events from their perspective.

#1
How quickly life can be over.
And a fresh start is the exception rather than the rule.

“Today I have no neurological limitations. I go about my work as an anesthetist and don’t notice any impairments. Only my sternum has not healed and regularly reminds me of my second birthday – for example when I sneeze with pain.” This is how this article by Stephan Birkmaier begins. The aching sternum is from the resuscitation by a friend after Stephan was dug out of an avalanche in Norway, buried two meters deep.

Stephan Birkmaier
Specialist in anesthesia and intensive care medicine

Anticipation

We weren’t professionals who stormed to the summits every free day, but in the local Alps we were able to set ourselves ever greater goals after a few avalanche, glacier and high-altitude medicine courses. In the Monte Rosa region, we climbed several peaks such as the Dufourspitze. Outside of the courses, we always went without a mountain guide and made our own decisions.
In April 2022, we, a group of five friends, wanted to go ski touring in Norway. As we didn’t know the area, we booked a guided tour through a mountain school.
The anticipation was great. To stay in shape, we took every opportunity for training tours. When packing my equipment, I decided to take my airbag rucksack with me. I go almost exclusively with an airbag, except on multi-day tours when there is not enough space in my rucksack.
However, a friend who flew two days before us was told at the airport that his carbon cartridge was not allowed through security. As I had the same backpack, I didn’t want to risk having to send it back too. I thought about quickly borrowing or buying another model, but time was very short and the thought “We are a guided group and will certainly take it easy” made me leave the airbag at home – a fatal mistake.

Norway

Our arrival went smoothly and the lodges were superbly located right by the sea with breathtaking views of the water and steep mountains. Our group was joined by a second group from the same mountain school. Each had their own mountain guide, but we undertook the tours together.
The evening before the tours, all the participants and mountain guides sat together to discuss the situation. The first tour was unspectacular due to bad weather and poor visibility. However, the weather forecast promised bright sunshine for the next day, but with strong winds – our opportunity to explore the area. In the preliminary discussion, we took into account snow drifts and chose a flat ascent route away from steep slopes.

Accident day

The following morning, we found ourselves in one of the most beautiful areas of Norway, the Ånderdalen National Park. The previous day had already shown a difference in experience and fitness between our two groups. On this day too, we were significantly faster and soon left the second group far behind us.
To make the wait in the cold wind more pleasant, our mountain guide suggested we take a short detour to a surrounding slope and return to the original route later. He checked the slope gradient on his cell phone and two of my colleagues joined him. The decision to tackle the climb was therefore a joint one.
Shortly afterwards, we were standing at the foot of the slope, which now looked much more impressive than a few minutes earlier. To be honest, if we were traveling alone among friends, we wouldn’t go up it. I expressed my unease to one of my friends, we discussed and deliberated, but the mountain guide seemed competent and confident. So we carried on and didn’t share our uneasy feeling with the others.
After a few hairpin bends, the mountain guide told us to keep a safe distance of 15 meters. I couldn’t shake my uneasy feeling. I spoke to another colleague about it, but he also trusted that the mountain guide could assess the situation better than we could. I briefly considered turning back alone, but my pride prevented me from doing so. Two minutes later, I experienced the consequences of this decision.

Avalanche burial

It is difficult to put the moment, the impressions and feelings into words or describe them to someone who has never experienced an avalanche. The sound, that deep rumble when the snow settles. The eyes searching for a foothold in a sea of flowing snow. The body shaking inside from the vibrations. In situations like this, you feel the powerful energy of nature, in which a human being is simply nothing.

Now I’m standing here with the realization that I’m about to experience an avalanche for the first time. The fact that it is rolling straight towards me doesn’t make it any better. What my mind doesn’t grasp is the fact that my entire field of vision is taken up by the avalanche, not just a part of the slope that had started to slide and where I would have been lucky to get out. No, it’s the whole slope, from the very top to directly in front of me, from left to right. Everything takes place before my eyes and comes inexorably towards me. It seems as if time slows down for a moment. With the impressions described above, it’s simply… shocking!

“It’s unimaginably lonely under the avalanche. Just dark and quiet. Like at the end of an infinitely long one-way street that you can’t get out of on your own.”

You realize all of this within a fraction of a second. I reckon I have a maximum of two to three seconds before the avalanche will hit me. Turning around and driving away seems like a bad joke to me. I know that in a few moments I will be swept away by a huge avalanche.

As I accept this fact, an unexpected calm settles in my mind. I have no doubt about what I have to do next. I throw the poles far away from me, bend down and unlock the ski bindings. The first cold wave of air can already be felt on the back of my neck and out of the corner of my eye I can see that the avalanche is only five meters away. I just manage to pull my jacket over my face as the avalanche sweeps me away with indescribable force.

It turns me in all directions until I completely lose my bearings. Anyone who thinks you can swim in an avalanche is mistaken. I try with all my might to press my jacket onto my face so that no snow gets into my airways. It continues downhill, I am constantly being thrown around until I come to a standstill after what seems like an eternity.

The relief is immeasurable – I have managed not to get any snow in my mouth or nose. However, the pressure on my body under the masses of snow is so enormous that even without snow in my mouth and nose, breathing is barely possible. It feels as if I can only push the air back and forth in my windpipe. I can hear that parts of the avalanche are still moving and seconds later more masses of snow push over me. The pressure becomes so enormous that it squeezes the last remaining air out of my lungs. Any movement is impossible. Even wiggling a fingertip is utopian.
It is silent and dark, as if sound and light no longer exist. Only my attempt to breathe causes gulping noises, otherwise I can only hear my thoughts. It is unimaginably lonely under the avalanche. Just dark and silent. Like at the end of an infinitely long one-way street that you can’t get out of on your own. And then there’s this breathtaking pressure.

It occurs to me that many have died before me under these circumstances. It doesn’t occur to me that I will die now. Instead, I make a decision: Today is not the day it’s over. In my mind’s eye, there are no dramatic images like you see in movies – just darkness, absolute silence and my thoughts.
I tell myself that I just have to hold on until my colleagues find me and dig me out. I don’t know how deeply buried I am or whether they are also affected. But one thing is certain for me: I just have to hold on a little longer – they will find me and dig me up.

Then I was gone.

Wake up

I regained consciousness on the avalanche. I can’t say exactly when I lost consciousness – it’s like trying to remember what you were thinking in the last few minutes before you fell asleep. Waking up, however, felt completely different to waking up after a short nap in the sun.

My body didn’t hurt and I could breathe again, but my head was dizzy. And above all, I was freezing like never before in my life. My friends immediately wrapped me in jackets and blankets, tried to keep me warm and talked to me. I kept hearing how glad they were that I had come back – after the resuscitation.

I didn’t understand that. It was clear to me that I just had to hold out for a short time until they dug me out. I didn’t believe that I actually had to be resuscitated. I’ve resuscitated people myself – and their first complaint was never that they were cold.

The first emergency helicopter to arrive – a “small” one by Norwegian standards – tried to land with us several times. Unfortunately in vain (it later turned out that the wind was too strong for it). It felt like an eternity before a Coast Guard helicopter (NH-90) finally arrived and was able to lower an air rescuer. I then spoke to him in English and explained that I was fine so far, I was just extremely cold. I was packed into a rescue bag and finally pulled up with a winch.
During the flight, the lifeguard and paramedic asked me if I had been resuscitated, which I logically denied.

I later found out that – after I had been flown out – a second helicopter from the Norwegian Air Force (330 Squadron) came and waved down an air rescuer to see if the rest of the group was okay. They were, and they skied off on their own.

“I was freezing like never before in my life.”

Hospital

When I arrived at the hospital in Tromsø, I was examined by a colleague in the trauma room and asked what I could remember. I told him my version of the story.
It wasn’t until the CT scan was performed and a fracture of the sternum and several ribs with accompanying lung contusion was found that I began to realize what had actually happened. It was five past twelve and my watch was set back again.
From a doctor’s point of view, the further course of events in hospital is unremarkable. From a patient’s point of view, it is painful, nerve-wracking and only partially useful. Because I am a doctor and could have a multi-resistant hospital germ, I had to lie in an isolation room. The intensive care unit was full and so I ended up in a ward room without monitoring. The nursing staff came to my room twice during the day… As I was sure I would be better “monitored” in the lodge, I discharged myself the next day on my own responsibility.

Lodge

I was warmly welcomed by the others at the lodge. We had a good time.

The mountain guides had planned a program for the evening to discuss the avalanche accident together. So far so good. However, it turned out to be more of an avalanche lecture for the less experienced group… In any case, a somewhat “strange” program for my first evening at home.

But how do you welcome someone who has just had his second birthday? Perhaps it was simply the helplessness of the mountain guides and so they had a program that they knew and could present. The avalanche accident was presented in such a way that it was fateful and could not have been foreseen.
The next day, the group – apart from Phil – set off again on a ski tour. For me, the previous evening had shown that I was out of place here. I organized a return transfer and landed back in Innsbruck 48 hours later.

Learnings

My most important lessons after this avalanche accident are:

→ Everyone always bears full responsibility for their decisions and not doing something is also a decision.
→ Trust your intuition – it can make or break your life.
→ What others think about you should never play a role, especially not at critical moments.
→ Make your risk assessment based on the consequences (e.g. airbag backpack possibly removed at the airport vs. avalanche accident).
→ Live your life – you only have one and are rarely given a second.

PS: The facts about the avalanche accident:

→ Signal located after 5 minutes.
→ Probe hit at a depth of 2 meters on the ski boot, with the head in the deepest position.
→ 20 minutes until complete excavation.
→ 5 minutes of resuscitation.
→ Approx. 30 minutes until the arrival of the first helicopter. → Approx. 60 minutes until the arrival of the second helicopter (Coast Guard).
→ Approx. 75 minutes until transportation by helicopter.