Monday, May 12, 2008

Survivor says fatal avalanche gave way with little warning

By MAREK WARSZAWSKI
THE FRESNO BEE

last updated: March 03, 2008 02:30:22 AM

The avalanche that killed Jason Gardner's friend started with an unmistakable sound.

"Just this deep, earthy rumble," Gardner said. "As soon as I heard it, I knew."

Gardner tried to veer out of its path. He saw chunks of debris beneath his snowboard. Then the wave of snow engulfed him.

"It knocked me senseless, and I'm a big guy," the 6-foot-5, 210-pound Fresno man said.

"I swam to the surface -- just like you're supposed to do -- stuck my head out, took another breath and got tossed around some more.

"It was gymnastics like I can't describe."

Two days earlier, on Jan. 26, Gardner and Morgan Cowles had set off under sunshine and a blue sky from Wolverton Meadow in Sequoia National Park to the Pear Lake Hut, a summer ranger station that lodges cross country skiers and snowshoers during the winter.

It was supposed to be a simple overnight trip, in on Saturday and out Sunday. But the weather turned nasty on their return, forcing Gardner and Cowles to spend Sunday night hunkered in their tent as a blizzard raged.

On the morning of Jan. 28, the two men climbed through fresh powder to Heather Gap, a broad ridge known locally as the Hump.

From there, it's pretty much all downhill -- three miles and 2,200 feet -- to the Wolverton parking lot.

At the top, Gardner, 34, and Cowles, 39, felt a sense of relief, believing the most dangerous terrain was behind them.

When the avalanche finally stopped, Gardner thrust his arms up, pierced the snow's surface and cleared the area around his face. He spit out snow and took a deep breath.

Gardner felt a throbbing pain in his left leg. Then his thoughts turned to Cowles, who had been skiing a few yards behind.

"I jumped up and started screaming Morgan's name," Gardner said. "All I heard was a deathly silence, a winter silence."

Gardner ditched his backpack, ripped off his snowboard, fastened his snowshoes and grabbed the probe and shovel he carried for this sort of emer- gency. Before starting back up the hill, he set his avalanche beacon to pick up the signal being sent by Cowles' unit.

Time was of the essence, and Gardner knew it. Battling waist-deep snow, Gardner trudged about 30 feet before his beacon picked up a reading. It directed him 40 feet uphill and to the right.

Right away, Gardner recognized that he had been spared the brunt of the avalanche. Cowles had been directly in its path.

As Gardner continued uphill, the beacon directed him even farther right and into the gully he had ridden across when the avalanche broke loose. Just over the lip of the gully, he spotted a ski tip sticking out of the snow.

Gardner quickly assembled his probe and began poking air holes in the snow. Then he took out his shovel.

After a couple of minutes of digging, Gardner uncovered Cowles' legs, which were twisted in an unnatural position. Then Gardner realized his friend was lying face down with his head lodged inside the well of a small tree.

Gardner had to dig several more feet before he was able to extract his friend's body.

"I think I knew as soon as I saw him," Gardner said. "There was just a big indention in his forehead. ... He was blue, he wasn't breathing, and he had no pulse."

Trained in wilderness first aid, Gardner started giving Cowles cardiopulmonary resuscitation but got no response. He continued for about 15 minutes before giving up.

"You can't be out that long without breathing," he said.

Gardner sat beside Cowles' body for 10 minutes of silent reflection and goodbyes. "A religious person would have called it a prayer."

Tired and cold, Gardner decided to try to make it out himself instead of pitching the tent and waiting for a rescue party.

"I knew he was gone, but it's hard to leave a friend," he said. "It's one of the tougher decisions I've made in my entire life."

Gardner set off in the direction of the marked trail that he and Cowles purposely had left ear-lier that day.

A search party found him a couple of hours later.

Night of anxiety

Her fiancé hadn't even left the house yet, but Katie Flinn was worried.

Next Page >