When local skier David Krause, 47, went out of bounds at Stowe Mountain Resort this past January, it’s a safe bet he wasn’t planning on getting lost, spending the night out in minus-zero temps, and ending the ordeal with frostbite on his feet. And he most certainly didn’t intend to have more than 30 people searching for him in weather conditions that were marginal at best. (Before he was found, Krause managed to ski out on his own.)
But this type of scenario is becoming increasingly common, say several resort managers, prompting some resorts to pay renewed attention to their out-of-bounds policies and also demonstrating that many skiers and riders, no matter how familiar they are with the terrain, can easily fail to exercise good judgment when venturing beyond ski-area boundaries.
“This is a timely and controversial topic for us because of the all the snow we got early in the season,” says Mike Colbourn, vice president of marketing at Stowe. “The number of rescues is very dependent on snowfall.”
Like many resorts, Stowe bills rescued skiers for the expenses incurred by the ski area. Even though the local mountain rescue group, known as the Stowe Hazardous Terrain Evacuation Team (HTT), takes responsibility for organizing out-of-bounds searches, the resort racks up costs for things such as running snowcats, staffing the mountain operations center at night, and opening other facilities as needed.
The regulations and possible penalties of going out of bounds vary among ski areas, depending on everything from state law to individual philosophies on what works best from a safety perspective. One thing everyone seems to agree on, however, is that due to 1) the push-your-boundaries attitude of today’s youth culture; 2) many of the images shown in ski magazines and films; and/or 3) the growth of popularity in backcountry skiing among all ages, skiing and riding out of bounds and the potential for rescues is noticeably increasing.
Here’s a rundown of how a sampling of ski areas across the country approach going OB, or out of bounds.
Education, Education, Education
Stowe recently instituted its AAA slogan (attitude, awareness, accountability) to address on-mountain safety in general, but it’s also particularly relevant to those tempted to ski out of bounds. And the resort’s OB policy—you’re free to go past the boundaries as you see fit—relies heavily on personal responsibility. (An incorrect report in some newspapers this past spring indicated that Vermont was about to make out-of-bounds skiing a criminal offense. “That’s nothing that has ever been proposed, nor would it be,” says Vermont Ski Areas Association Executive Director David Dillon. According to Dillon, the misinformation arose out of a proposal by the state police to take a more active role in coordinating backcountry rescues and to broaden liability for the increasing costs of rescues to include hikers, snowshoers and snowmobilers in addition to skiers.)
“When you leave the resort, you’re on your own,” emphasizes Stowe’s Colbourn.
Stowe’s HTT is also heading up a new in-school program, debuting in April, for local kids. “The concept is to reach kids in their early teenage years, when they’re starting to explore some out-of-bounds skiing,” says Neil Van Dyke, HTT chief. “We’ll provide them with some common-sense rules, like when it’s appropriate [to go OB], at what time of day, what a minimum group size should be, and under what [snow and weather] conditions. We’ll also give some practical ‘what if’ training and teach basic winter survival skills.”
Kids will receive a small survival kit to carry with them, which includes items such as a whistle, space blanket and hand warmers (the regional hospital funded the kits). And David Krause will be there to give an account of his unplanned night out.
“If all goes well, we’ll roll it out on a larger scale next year,” says Van Dyke. “Parents are very supportive of the idea.”
Active Boundary Management
At Steamboat, “the frequency of searches and financial arrangements are a big issue,” says Patrol Director John Kohnke. “Thirty years ago, people would come up and sign themselves out, and we’d ask to see safety equipment. It was maybe only six to 10 people a day. Today locals will tell you there are moguls out there.”
The resort has created several access points into the backcountry at sensible places, with the typical signage that warns skiers that they’re leaving the ski area to go out on their own and that rescue may be costly. And Kohnke emphasizes using the term “access point” instead of “gate;” the latter, he says, “implies an invitation.”
Though ducking a rope is unlikely to result in a pulled pass at Steamboat, Kohnke acknowledges it’s an issue the patrol struggles with. “We have our boundary very well marked, but the rope problem is a dilemma. You could send everyone who ducks a rope to jail, and you could probably get people to stop ducking ropes. Realistically, we’ll say we would really prefer that you use the access points.”
The goal is not to keep people out of the backcountry, says Kohnke, but to keep people consistent. A set of tracks under a rope into pristine snow can be like a siren call to another skier, who may well be oblivious to potential terrain hazards. “You always have a local population of skiers that’s pretty well educated, and they don’t feel they have to go through the access points. But it creates a nuisance for other people who need that information,” says Kohnke.
“We’d love to build a local behavior that would encourage people to not duck ropes,” he adds. “How is a general person supposed to know the difference between [a boundary] rope and an internal one that’s roping off a cliff area?”
As for rescues, the Steamboat patrol often works in conjunction with the local search and rescue organization rather than turning a search completely over to them. “It depends on what time of day or night it is,” explains Kohnke. “We’re not in the business of searching out of bounds, but at the same time, we’re pretty good at it, and we know the terrain. So we’ll work under the umbrella of [local search and rescue], offering our expertise and knowledge of the surrounding area.”
If It Isn’t Broke, Don’t Fix It
Snowbird instituted its OB policy in 1971, and the system hasn’t changed much. “It’s worked pretty well for us,” notes Snow Safety Director Peter Schory.
In order to comply with the Forest Service’s requirement for permanent access to the public lands abutting the ski area, the resort has placed two always-open gates lower down on the mountain. They’re situated such that most skiers desiring to get out-of-bounds turns wouldn’t exit at those locations.
The resort maintains control over the two access points higher up the mountain by placing them within the ski area boundary, so that patrol can open and close them depending on conditions.
“We make the decision whether to allow people to go through our permitted area to access the backcountry,” says Schory. “A big part of this game is trying to keep a little bit of control. People are used to it, and I think they like it.”
In addition, before exiting, skiers and riders must come into the patrol hut and sign a release. “We give you a little bit of information [about where you’ll end up] and require that you’re equipped with a transceiver, shovel and partner,” Schory says. The patrol also posts the local avalanche forecast on a grease board.
Snowbird depends on its guests to familiarize themselves with the resort’s OB policies, and Schory hasn’t observed that rescues are on the rise. “It’s their responsibility to know what our ski area boundary is and what our policy is, and that they can’t come back in through a closed area. But most people [going OB] don’t come back into the ski area.”
Simple and Direct
The number of rescues at Breckenridge has remained stable over the past few years, according to Rick Sramek, vice president of mountain ops. The resort takes a cut-and-dried approach to going OB. As long as skiers and riders access out-of-bounds terrain through one of the three backcountry gates, they’re in the clear.
But “it’s against the law to duck any boundary rope,” says Sramek. “If we catch people, they’ll at a minimum lose their pass for a month or may even go to jail.”
The resort worked with the Forest Service in determining locations for the gates, and it purposely chose spots that would hold less appeal for seekers of lift-served backcountry skiing. The primary criteria, says Sramek, “is that they don’t facilitate yo-yo skiing in the backcountry. They truly mean you are leaving the area, and access back in isn’t direct or easy.”
And unlike a resort like Snowbird, Breckenridge doesn’t want to get into the business of advising those headed OB. “We don’t attempt to make a judgment on the safety of backcountry conditions,” says Sramek.
Complete Control
Unlike many ski areas, Squaw Valley is almost completely on private land, which has allowed the resort to exercise total control over its boundaries.
According to Mountain Manager Jimmy King, three different situations comprise the overall policy. The backside of KT22, for example, is privately held by a landowner who doesn’t want any skier traffic. King notes that though the majority of Squaw’s western boundary backs up to Forest Service land, that boundary also remains permanently closed, because “there’s no easy way out—there’s a drainage that goes on for miles and miles.”
The third situation involves the boundary between the ski area and Shirley Canyon; the resort will open up one OB access point into the canyon in spring, if there’s sufficient snow coverage (which hasn’t been the case the past few seasons). Skiers must sign out with the patrol, and though the terrain in spring doesn’t warrant any avalanche equipment requirements, parties must consist of a minimum of three people.
When the occasional skiers stray, the severity of the resort’s response varies with the situation. For example, if someone is genuinely confused, the patrol will take an educational tack. If someone knowingly ventures out, especially during high avalanche hazard, the patrol will likely pull the violator’s pass and make sure the incident is publicized.
Skiers who are spotted going off the backside of KT22, toward Alpine Meadows, will be chased down. And if tracks are seen going out of the western boundary—into no-man’s land—patrollers will mount a search right away, even before calling in Tahoe Nordic search and rescue and the sheriff. “We know that 99 percent of the time, someone has made a grave mistake, and we want to save them right away,” says King. “And it usually happens in bad weather.”
So far, Squaw has never billed any of its rescuees directly, but by California law, Placer County can bill the county that a skier resides in for any rescue costs it accrues. If the skier lives in Placer County, then the bill might go to the individual.
Whether a resort’s out-of-bounds areas are vast wilderness or a neighbor’s farm, having a good policy in place is vital. And as more and more guests seek the thrills of backcountry, ski areas can expect to see more search-and-rescue efforts in the future.
