By Alex Baechler
This article initially appeared in The Avalanche Journal, Volume 132, spring 2023
I’VE BEEN RUMMAGING THROUGH MY OLD logbooks and reports recently, digging up examples for the Avalanche Professional membership application process. In the process, I found a Post-it from back in 2008, and this short essay on hazardous attitudes and ski cutting. I remember one of the course evaluators cornering me (at least it felt that way at the time) and asking me to share my experience with my cohorts. At the time, I was inexperienced and fearful of the vulnerability that accompanies being, or being perceived, as impulsive, reckless, or wrong. I declined. At the time I convinced myself I was satisfied with at least achieving some self-awareness from the process. I always regretted giving into my fear of being evaluated or judged.
Here are the thoughts expressed in that essay:
AUGMENTING MY STYLE
At times, I have unrealistic expectations of others and myself. A preference for the best practices or an ideal solution can create frustration, contribute to a negative trend in my attitude, and lead to anger and resignation. Being conscious of the symptoms that manifest when I adopt an overly idealistic approach is just the beginning. Matching the appropriate style to the situation instead of relying on ideals will be the real challenge.
Accepting that the ideal solution is not the only appropriate response to a problem will greatly improve the way in which I interact with others. I can at times allow my ego to take over and adopt an “I can do it” perspective to accomplishing tasks, particularly when delegated responsibility by someone I respect, or when the perception that an expedient outcome is desired or required.
HAZARDOUS ATTITUDES: “I CAN DO IT, GET IT DONE, I CAN HANDLE IT”
In my opinion, life is good. I have a four-year-old son who is my world, a partner who loves me and who I have the deepest affection of, good friends and coworkers, and a house on the horizon.
My life is good.
I will qualify my text by stating I am new to the industry. I only have a few basic badges and to date no one has shown me any secret handshakes. I have been conducting avalanche control work in a modified snowpack for four years and leading basic explosive missions this past season. When I was initiated into the crews and began the work, I was overly cautious. Over time, I became careful. Last season, I was overconfident, and that is where my point begins.
Due to several aggregate decisions, we as crews were always under pressure to conduct our control work within slim time margins and the constraints of budgeted resources. Do more with less. We as crews and a department felt the pressure and we responded with style. We felt pride when we had a chance to detonate a 1.5 kg round of coffee while we waited for the lift gods to break out the rime and turn the lift.
Doing more with less can mean taking more chances. Doing more with less means ski cutting is preferable to explosives. It costs less (we’ll test that assumption later), it maintains the aesthetic for the public, and, at its best, it’s fun: fracture lines propagating from your ski tips, a slab rumbling down the fall line, and a smug smile as you watch the runout obscured by the debris from the comfort of your safe zone. At its worst, you’re too low, with no bombs, and it’s marginal whether there is enough time to do another clean-up run and still meet the internal and external time pressures. If I cut it, all these pressures will go away. Everyone wins.
This was my poorest avalanche control decision to date. The area we were controlling was new to us. I was too low on the slope, in well anchored trees, with a sweet spot 30 m above me to skier’s left. The incline increased across the exposed slope. We need to cut this.
“How far out should I go?” I ask.
Focused on the outcome, “Far enough to make it safe,” I think.
There’s 35 cm of storm snow on a skied-out crust. The temperature’s been rising as we’ve descended. The turns are heavier and harder.
“Watch me,” I communicate to my partner.
I cut into the clearly exposed, clearly loaded slope with a clearly increasing incline. I remember thinking, “Whoa, this is too far!” I crank a turn back; my partner will get the hang fire.
I spot my safe zone. “You’re still good.”
I muscle another turn.
“Damn!”
Body bomb.
I prepare for a recovery.
“Nope.”
Pop! Single-eject. I’m swimming.
The sweet spot crowns above my entry tracks and I’m obscured from my partner’s view.
Pop! Double-eject. I’m really swimming now.
I clearly recall thinking, “Uh, I could go under here. Push for the surface. Keep your head up.”
Then it all stops. ”I’m OK!”
Couched in debris, the bread-slicer tree line only 20 m away, I confirm with my partner I’m OK. The other crews are waiting at the load station. Three metres of debris below me, I locate one ski near the surface. The other one is buried, gone. I curse my luck. I’m embarrassed and this makes me angry. I sheepishly exchange words with my partner.
“Who hasn’t taken a ride?” was his reply. We ski to the load. I fully expect to experience the consequences of my mistake and get an earful from the blaster of record. I got fists of pow and high fives instead.
I made a bad decision and I made a mistake. I knew that then and I accept it now. While the physical consequences were not very noteworthy, the aggregate decisions leading up to this non-event and my decision in it are. Amplify select factors and this is a reportable incident due to injury or death.
If I can learn from my mistakes, maybe someone else can too. We are unique as an industry, but we should not afford ourselves any special status as workers and practitioners. We all have the right to conduct our work in a safe manner. Our colleagues, supervisors, friends, and family expect and deserve that we observe this due diligence and maintain a high standard. We have the right to, and we are expected to, refuse unsafe work.
***
REFRAMING EXPERIENCES
I think it’s important to determine if the glass you’re looking back through has the effect of a prism or a mirror. After my incident, and after about a decade of temperament, I can look back and see the reflection of my initial reflex reaction. Now, with the benefit of time, I can see the refracted light of the whole experience in my life’s arc.
ADVICE TO MY YOUNGER SELF
If I could sit down and have a coffee with my younger self, I’d have the conversation I would have likely dismissed or reluctantly endured. Something like this:
“First of all, great to see you and I want to let you know you’re doing great! As someone who appreciates you and with a vested interest in your success, I want to share some insights about things I’ve observed that will keep you and your team safe and extend opportunities in your career path.
“Slow down. You don’t have to be the person that doubles down and gets it done every time. In fact, it’s likely better for everyone’s awareness and safety if you don’t. You’re making a great contribution. It’s important that you consider your limits and safety when faced with critical decisions. In time, you’ll come to recognize the faces will change, but the work remains.”
My practical advice on ways to slow down, attain some stillness, and smooth out actions would be to consistently drill down with targeted questions around the assumptions you have about tasking, time, resources, intentions, and expectations. Timeframes are artificial; pressure is a factor we manufacture with decisions and pre-existing conditions. Ask questions that seem obvious at first but to which the ultimate answers are somewhat elusive:
- Why are we doing this?
- Why isn’t there enough time?
- Is there another way to get it done with what we have?
- Why am I working outside the norm?
- Will taking more time even matter at the end of the shift?
Share the insights you uncover with your team regularly. I would offer reassurance that being assertive and confident when standing on the foundation of your rights as a worker is a route that becomes the beaten path of professionalism. We all want opportunities to stretch and grow, to celebrate the satisfaction and pride that result from overcoming challenges in a day. There’s no need or desire out there for you to stick your neck out to achieve it.
Repeat after me: “I have the right to know, the right to participate, and a right and responsibility to refuse the performance of unsafe work.”
Instead of taking one for the team, stand up for the team and your future self. It’s a tall order and big boots to fill, but you’ll grow into them.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALEX BAECHLER has had an unorthodox career path, but his avalanche work has been a consistent influence in his life arc. He has benefited from itinerant periods of education and applied experience, and has followed an informal pattern where progressive knowledge is enhanced with extensive practical experience, appropriate supervision, and selective mentorship. Born in Campbell River, he currently lives in Revelstoke with his wife Michelle and daughter Autumn, and regularly visits Vancouver Island to be with his son Avery.
