Generation Recreation

Ski Patroller Death Highlights the Real Price of Powder Turns

By Michael Pearlman, 1-10-10

In Jackson Hole, the early-morning sound of explosives reverberating across the valley is a ski community signal that says powder day. I’ve spent many mornings of my life shivering at the base of Jackson Hole Mountain Resort, listening to avalanche bombs explode while waiting for the mountain to open. That feeling of anticipation is shared by powder junkies everywhere.

During the down time I spent waiting to board the tram or gondola, I distracted my mind with conversation and silently contemplated where I would go for my first run. I wasn’t focused on the activities taking place thousands of feet above the valley floor, where ski patrollers carefully combed the mountain, assessed the snowpack, and attempted to throw enough explosives to minimize avalanche danger to the public. The entire time I waited for my turn, those men and women were putting themselves in harm’s way. It’s all a normal part of the powder day routine, with snow-covered patrollers appearing periodically at the bottom of the mountain to let us know that they weren’t quite ready yet. Sometimes we were impatient and complained, but we had no choice and forced ourselves to wait a little longer.

It all seems so routine, except snow control really is the furthest thing from predictable. For the second year in a row, an avalanche death has shaken Jackson’s ski community to the core. One year after a local skier was killed in an in-bounds avalanche, a veteran Jackson Hole Ski Patrol member died January 9 from injuries sustained while performing routine avalanche control duties three days earlier. Mark “Big Wally” Wolling died doing his job, making the mountain safe enough to allow the skiing public to enjoy themselves.

Wally was the real deal, a 20-year veteran of Jackson’s ski patrol who even had an off-the-map run at the resort named after him. Last summer he hosted a mammoth party “Goatstock” to provide financial assistance to an injured valley resident. He’d survived a serious paragliding accident, never sought attention and was well-liked by everyone who knew him. By all accounts, he was the consummate professional who took his duties seriously.

I’ve seen the avalanche route map that’s kept at ski patrol headquarters and it’s filled with enough numbers and identified slide paths to make your head spin. Few ski resorts in the continental United States are as challenging to control for avalanches as Jackson Hole. It’s exactly what makes the skiing in Jackson so fantastic, what draws the most dedicated ski bums, and why patrolling there is such a serious job.

According to a paper prepared by Halsted Morris for the 2008 International Snow Science Workshop, 49 Americans have been killed while involved in avalanche control or snow safety work since 1944, 20 of whom were ski patrollers. It’s not the first time a Jackson Hole Mountain Resort patroller has perished in an avalanche-- two patrollers died during the winter of 1985-86. Now, more than twenty years later, a new generation of Teton skiers are reminded that ski patrollers are vulnerable to the unpredictable nature of their work environment.

Alpine skiing is a personal expression of freedom, a joyful celebration of life that helps me feel connected to the outdoors. A ski resort can be viewed as simply a huge playground that just becomes more fun when the snow piles up, while we never notice those charged with our safety. On the day he died, Wally was working to create a safe skiing experience for both tentative tourists and grizzled season pass holder who might never acknowledge his efforts all season.

Thanks Big Wally, for keeping Jackson skiers safe for all the years you were with us. The next time I’m waiting for the lifts to open on a powder day, I’ll be thinking about all those past powder turns and huge smiles that I only got to enjoy because of your hard work.

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