Erstellt am: 4. 2. 2010 - 18:05 Uhr

The Call Of The Wild

5 avalanche deaths in just one day in the Austrian Alps. With Risk n' Fun you can learn to enjoy off-piste delights safely.

For snow lovers the call of the wild is getting ever louder as more and more of us seek respite from the madding crowds. During the upcoming high season of the Austrian ski winter, congestion on the groomed ski pistes can sometimes resemble rush hour in Tokyo. It's surely only a question of time until wing mirrors become de-rigueur accessories for helmets

That's not what we have been sold on the ubiquitous advertising hoardings that have seduced us with glossy pictures of serene skiers floating through the deep snow of Austria in splendid isolation. No wonder then that we follow the call to the wide open snow basins outside the secured skiing area, the skiers armed with the new wide "fat boy" skis that float over the snow and make the off-piste pleasures accessible to an ever broader range of skiers.

helmut dühringer

Photo: Helmut Dühringer

But that freedom to roam the untracked mountain slopes sometimes comes at a terrible price. The latest tragic reminder came yesterday afternoon when two German teenagers were killed by an avalanche in the Bregenzerwald backcountry that they had apparently triggered themselves. This follows a spate of avalanche deaths in the Alps over the Christmas holiday period. In many areas heavy December snowfall had been followed by warm weather and rain. Skiers and snowboarders had ignored the well-established warning systems and ventured out in those treacherous conditions.

When 9 people were swept away in the Diemtig valley in Switzerland, the newspaper Le Matin declared off-piste skiing in the then prevailing conditions "an act of recklessness." while posters on the papers' on-line version suggested that warnings should be put on skis as they are on cigarette packets. "Off-piste kills" was one recommendation

But according the Alpenverein, "ignorance kills" would be a more appropriate warning. For the past ten years they have been running training weeks in off-piste safety called Risk n' Fun camps which are aimed at sensitizing winter sports enthusiasts to the dangers that accompany the delights of free-riding. In this jubilee year, I joined one of the camps in Austria's highest ski village, the Tyrolean resort of Kühtai.

During our first night in a cozy corner of the Alpineverein's Dortmundhütte, our trainer Frizz Köck and mountain guide Heli Dühringer outlined the philosophy of the Risk n' Fun concept. It's all about developing keener awareness and self-empowerment. The learning process is designer to be active rather than passive. We were to going to be trained to perceive the potential Alpine dangers ourselves and make our own decisions about where we could and couldn't ride. Our trainers would share their experience of snow conditions, advise us what signs to look out for and put in the vital presidential veto if we made the wrong choice. They saw themselves as our safety net. The onus was firmly on us to learn to take responsibility for our own actions.

helmut dühringer

Photo: Helmut Dühringer

One of the best things about all acquiring new skills is acquiring all the fun tools to go with them. The equipment that has been developed to keep you safe in the snowy mountains is deliciously hi-tech and the first evening developed into something akin to my favourite scenes from the James Bond franchise.. First we were handed out beeping radio beacons which we strapped to our bodies in holsters. Next we were given what looked like a bag on tent poles, but what turned out to be a sensitive probe, extendable to 2 meters with a flick of the wrist, to allow us to feel through the snow for the buried avalanche victims. Admittedly only I could get excited about a foldable shovel, but the special ABS (avalanche airbag system) rucksacks we were given to try out would have had 007 raising more than an ironic eyebrow. A rip-cord released a pair of airbags to the side of the rucksack, making it look like the bearer had gown a pair of huge orange angel’s wings. In the event of an avalanche the extra buoyancy would keep the free-rider near the surface of the snow slide and massively improve the chances of survival.

I did think of the phrase "all the gear and no idea" as I trooped off up the mountain the next morning. To be honest, until I arrived in Kühtai I had spent years largely tethered to the vicinity of the pistes carving ever neater turns in the perfectly prepared snow. .So it was with an unnerving feeling of inferiority that I trooped behind the 7 other participants and 2 coaches with my short racing carve skis over my shoulder.

But here I think the concept of Risk n' Fun comes into its own. By making teamwork and shared responsibility the focus of activities, the camps reduce that potentially lethal mixture of machismo and competitive rivalry. It didn't matter who carved the best curves or who took the best lines. We were going up the mountain as a unit, and were coming back down as a unit and no-one was going to be pressured into situations in which they felt uncomfortable. If my first turns down the deep stuff made me look like a rather timid Alpine cow, no-one let me feel overly bovine. Team-building exercises, including one where were let ourselves fall backwards into the arms of our colleagues, helped cement that feeling.

helmut dühringer

Together we learned how to use the radio beacons to locate avalanche victims. We dug a snow cave, hid Risk n' Fun's fearless intern Tobi inside and prodded him with our probes to get used to the feeling of finding a human form under the snow. Together we located and dug out hidden rucksacks - my joyful triumph at rescuing an inanimate object surprising even myself. And together we simulated a real avalanche situation, including calming down a hysterical survivor and calling in a helicopter.

On the last two days, the camp split into two groups and planned a session of free-riding for each other. My team of 4 planned the morning, and the other half planned the afternoon. We checked the daily avalanche bulletin, decided which slopes would have the safest but also most enjoyable snow. We planned how to get up to the top of the slope
(depressingly often by strapping our skis and boards to our rucksacks and hiking up). We decided how to avoid the danger zones, and what line to take on the way back down. On the way up we looked out for dangerous wind-slabs and hazards that were imperceptible from below. Remaining devoutly anti-authoritarian, the trainers Heli and Frizz gave us a long leash, just tugging gently when I suggested a long march up a field of thigh-sinking powder.

helmut dühringer

Team building exercises

You can't learn how to avoid avalanches in 5 days, of course, particularly because there are few rules that are 100% dependable. If many tragedies are caused by ignorance, some are caused by the sheer unpredictability of the way snow masses either hold or give. There is an inherent risk involved whenever you leave the secured ski area. But in 5 days you can begin to think about that risk, begin to assess that risk and assess you readiness to take it. It's the thought process that is important, not the green or red light. Indeed, it's perhaps that very thought process that separates the free-rider from the chancer in the deep snow.

When I was asked on the first night what I expected to gain from the course I had said 'adventure' and 'self-confidence '. I certainly got enough adventure with our hikes through the snow of Alpine ridges, but I got a generous helping of self-confidence too. I had come to the Risk n' Fun camp expecting to learn about what I couldn't do. Instead, to my great delight, I was learning that I could do things I had never dreamed I could or would do. That included dropping into a 40 degree slope of deep virgin powder snow.

frizz köck

photo: Frizz Köck

With my first turn the snow exploded around me and I was buried knee-deep in powder. The snow that I had disturbed skidded down the slope ahead of me. Two cautious, cowardly turns and then finally, belatedly, I started to embrace the snow instead of fearing it and pointed my tips downwards. The acceleration at that speed is about 70% of free fall and my jaw dropped open in momentary panic. But I remembered what my powder guru Heli had told me, kept my weight further back than I was used to and pulled a wide arcing-turn to the right carving deep into the sun-glistened snow basin. It was pure joy. It felt for a second as if all my birthdays had come at once. Now that's what I call empowerment.