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Evaluate the conditions RUNOUT What lies below, in the fall line? Cliffs, rocks, a crevasse (bad), or a smooth, flat area (good)? SNOW FIRMNESS Extremely hard snow can be risky even at low angles. ANGLE “On soft snow with a good runout, most folks can cross slopes angled up to 40 degrees,” says Adam Steel, Rocky Mountain program director for the Colorado Outward Bound School. “Almost everyone will want an ice axe when the slope steepens to 50 degrees.” Survival: Out Alive Basecamp I L L U S T R A T I O N B Y S U P E R C O R N . T E X T B Y K R I S T I N B J O R N S E N I cut the padding from my pack and used it as a mat to insulate my core against the chill. That night, I watched the stars pass between towering canyon walls. I thought about my brother. The next morning, I woke into the same night- mare. I did little things—gathered flood-deposited twigs for comfort fires, cut away my pack’s frame sheet and arranged webbing on it to spell “HELP”—because if my mind wasn’t engaged in some task, my thoughts would creep to my brother below and the possibility that I might end up like him. I carved my name and a single hash mark—for day one—into the gritty sandstone. Rain came the second night. I was awake when it started, shivering in the near-freezing night. I curled deeper into the fetal position and forced myself to sing “America the Beautiful” and “Amazing Grace” to ward off despair. The cold nipped harder at my fingers and toes with each passing hour. As Wednesday became Thursday, I started to fear that rescue wouldn’t come. The lemon had gone rancid in my tea and I couldn’t get it out. My lips were parched because I only allowed myself tiny rations of water. My clothing sagged off my frame. I needed a contingency plan. I tied webbing pieces and my static rope together and tossed the line down over the edge—hoping it would hit some rock structure I couldn’t see, a possible way out. Twice I did this, and twice, nothing. It was like being trapped all over again. Friday brought the fifth hash mark next to my name. I could hardly make spit in my mouth. When I sat still the only sound I heard was my stom- ach’s growl. I was down to my last sip of water, but refused to drink it. I knew I should have, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being without some- thing to drink. The sun had already set when I heard the chop- per. Without time to build a fire, I stood waving my “HELP” sign and shouting, but my efforts couldn’t escape the canyon’s dark and din. Hearing that sound fade into nothingness sank me lower than any previous point. I slept. Late Saturday morning the helicopter returned. They’d seen my brother’s body below, and this time they saw me, too. I downed my last sip of water in celebration and readied myself for a somber trip out. I was joyous to be rescued, but it was a joy unfulfilled. I left a lot in that canyon. Many packs come with emergency whistles on the chest strap—blow this often to attract help. Use the top lid (if waterproof) as a bucket to collect rainwater. Cut the padded backpanel off to use as a sleeping pad for your torso, or stuff it inside your shirt for extra warmth. The high-denier fabric of your pack body cuts wind, and can be altered into sleeves or windproof panels to keep you warm. Metal struts and ABS plastic backboards make excellent splints for broken bones (see page 43 to learn how). Key Skill: Use Your Pack As a Survival Tool Troubleshoot This: Crossing a snowfield without gear Stairway to heaven Cut steps with an ice axe and cross snowfields safely with these tips: backpacker.com/snowfield. A white, sloping expanse lies between you and salvation. The only problem: You don’t have an ice axe or crampons. Here’s what to do. 42 BACKPACKER 03.2014 A C B Turn back If you assess the slope and it’s sketchy, look for a safer path above, below, or around the field. Improvise If you absolutely must cross, a few MacGyver options do exist, though Steel advises caution: Such impro- visation techniques “are a dicey proposition even for experienced mountaineers.” CUT FOOTHOLDS with a sharp-edged rock or a trekking pole (A). Bend your knees to lower your center of gravity (adds stability) and keep your weight over your feet. Hold the blunt end of a palm-size rock or the pole just above its tip and gouge at the snow (the motion is like chop- ping wood with a hatchet) until you’ve created a flat platform large enough for your whole foot. PLANT THE ROCK OR POLE into the uphill slope, like you would an ice axe, to use as a (hopeful) anchor if you slip (B). Traverse, taking small crossover steps and angling upward (C) so you don’t have to reach down as far to cut your next step. On steeper slopes, face in to increase your balance and cut steps that are closer together. MAKE DIY CRAMPONS by embed- ding bits of metal (stove parts, fork tines, tent grommets, etc.) or shred- ded aluminum (windscreen) in your boot soles or wrapping a densely knotted rope (any knot will do) around your boots. Self-arrest If you slip, get both hands on your pole (or rock), roll onto your stomach with your legs pointed downhill, and plant the tip of your implement into the snow beneath your shoulder. At the same time, kick your feet (or if you’re wear- ing crampons on hard snow, your knees) into the slope, and arch your back to transfer your weight onto these three points of con- tact. This will drive them into the snow like anchors.