Fresh snow on the Arlberg, blue sky, freezing cold. The last ice crystals float to the ground, glistening in the morning sun. Even the rugged rocky peaks above St. Anton are covered in a thick layer of snow. A dream day for winter sports enthusiasts, especially deep-snow skiers and freeriders. Around a hundred of them crowd into the first gondola that takes the powder-hungry athletes into the ski area. Tense atmosphere.
Avalanche transceivers are put on, a few nervous laughs. A striking number of foreign languages: Scandinavian sounds mingle with the English accents of various continents: New Zealand, Oxford, US West Coast slang. German and even Austrian in between. Nobody seems to be interested in the groomed slopes.
Only a few resorts can keep up with the Arlberg region when it comes to deep snow and extensive freeride terrain. And word has gotten around: More and more winter sports enthusiasts are enjoying the boundless powder snow. Every deep-snow skier has heard of avalanche accidents, and some have experienced avalanches themselves. But almost no one is deterred by this. The trend is towards descents in ever more extreme terrain. Understandably, this development poses problems for those responsible for safety in ski resorts. Although they are actually responsible for the safety of the open pistes and routes, the large number of deep snow skiers means that they have no choice but to make the freeride terrain as safe as possible. In addition to the closures, which are difficult to enforce, the avalanche commission staff only have the option of rendering danger spots harmless by blowing off avalanches before the athletes arrive. A tough job.
I meet the men from the avalanche commission at the top station of the Galzig cable car. We ride up on the Valuga cable car, which is closed to the public. I see some very tempting off-piste runs, but we're not here for deep-snow skiing?
Once at the top, Tobias Hafele, the deputy head of the commission, explains how the avalanche blasting cable car works. An explosive charge is brought into the avalanche slope on a wire rope and detonated. I feel the pressure wave of the explosion throughout my body. Then the gas cannon is ignited by computer control. The bang rings in my ears for a long time. We were supposed to go up to the Valuga peak, but the weather conditions were so bad that the blast was postponed until the next day. The weather is foehn and mild, but the strong wind makes me shiver. It starts to snow lightly. Over a glass of tea in the deserted mountain restaurant, the "blasters" talk about their work. Martin Klimmer, the head of the avalanche commission, spends the summer as a shepherd on a mountain pasture. Tobias and Hermann also work for the Arlberg cable cars in the summer. Tobias laughs and says that he used to be a ski bum. Today, skiing is just a job for him.
The next morning, we take the staff gondola up at 7:45 a.m.
Together with Hermann and the piste controller Gerhard, we first ride up to Valuga and then in the tiny gondola to its 2811-metre peak. Visibility is minimal, the weather is bad: stormy and foggy. A descent is out of the question.
We descend an icy ridge. I gratefully reach for the rope. We quickly reach the spot where the first blast is detonated. Two and a half kilos of explosives containing TNT are detonated. The fuse is inserted into the sausage-shaped explosive charge - then the fuse is made to glow. Detonation after 25 seconds. To prevent the eardrums from bursting, the ears must be covered. The explosion vapor stings my nose and lungs. The smoke takes my breath away. The blasters call it "headache smoke". We continue to climb over the ridge: explosive charges are thrown directly into the overgrown avalanche slope on a string in five more places. Some of them are successful; and smaller avalanches disappear into the fog. Despite the cold, I'm sweating. Blasting, descending, blasting, descending further, blasting again. An hour and a half later, we reach the Valuga cable car station. The building has been evacuated. Around 4 meters of snow block the entrance. We crawl in through a hole.
Around one meter of fresh snow has fallen twice in the last 10 days. Ski runs are still closed, but most cable cars and lifts have already reopened. The avalanche risk has decreased, the mild air has led to the snow cover settling and easing. The situation is still critical. Isolated wet snow avalanches must also be expected. Together with Tobias, we inspect a crack in a steep slope that is wet and slushy. He pushes snow down the slope with his skis positioned crossways. Of course I'm happy to help and do the same. Tons of wet fresh snow roll down as a sluggish mass.
The weather is very warm: rain in the village, light snow drizzle from 1900 meters above sea level. The fresh snow has collapsed and turned into slush and cardboard snow. Due to the bad weather, no more pistes and slopes will be opened today. The legendary Schindlerkar and most of the variants remain closed. "Nobody can get past the barriers, at least not without noticing them" says Hermann "and those who do ski should just do it". As freeriders constantly disregard the barriers, the police have started to issue warnings to winter sports enthusiasts who ski on closed slopes: the dangerous deep-snow fun can cost 150 euros. It becomes particularly expensive if the safety of other winter sports enthusiasts is endangered. Tobias tells us thoughtfully that the more he knows about avalanches, the more cautious he becomes. "When touring, you never know how close you were to an avalanche accident - the blasting gives you an idea of how unstable the snowpack is". Ultimately, avalanche assessment remains an equation with a lot of unknowns: Snow is an extremely complex substance. A few weeks after our visit, Tobias Hafele was caught in an avalanche during safety work, was swept away and seriously injured.
The Arlberg village of St. Anton, also known as "Stänten", is a freeride paradise. More and more athletes are not coming for the first-class pistes, but for the descents in untouched powder snow: the Arlberg powder. And there is plenty of it here thanks to the mountain's weather-exposed location.
Most guests can be divided into two groups: Wealthy middle-aged skiers or helmet-wearing freeriders with thick backpacks. Scandinavians, Brits, New Zealanders, Swiss and Germans - deep snow is what they are looking for. That's why they are here and many spend the whole season here.
The next morning it snows heavily. The temperature has plummeted.
5-10 cm of fresh snow has fallen in the valley. A briefing takes place in the avalanche commission room. The smell of coffee, thick cigarette smoke and strained, concentrated faces. The members of the safety team cannot afford to make any mistakes. The automatic weather station on the Valuga reports 6 cm of fresh snow, a measurement error. In the meantime, the amount of fresh snow has risen to well over 20 cm. In addition to the members of the avalanche commission, employees of the piste service are also allowed to blast avalanches. Ten men go out in small teams. Their backpacks are packed with explosives and detonators. First, the steep north-eastern slope below the Galzig is defused by blasting. We then set off again for the Valuga. There the gas cannon is ignited again. Its explosive power is equivalent to seven kilos of explosives. Propane gas and oxygen are mixed and detonated by a spark. A bright hissing sound is heard as the gas flows into the pipe. The powerful explosion triggers an avalanche. Avalanches also hiss from the neighboring couloirs. Immediately afterwards, the area is opened up and the gondola takes winter sports enthusiasts up. The way back is a wonderful deep snow descent - powder and cardboard snow galore. Is working in avalanche safety perhaps a dream job after all? On the way, we stop at the explosives bunker. Five tons of explosives can be stored there. The sight of the stockpile of explosives makes me shiver.
Every blast is recorded in the statistics. The record in recent years was a day in February 2000: 177 blasts were required in the St. Anton area so that winter sports enthusiasts could ski as safely as possible.
On the descent, I strike up a conversation with three snowboard instructors. When asked if they have ever had avalanche experiences, they don't want to answer at first. Then they become more talkative and say that probably everyone who is a freerider here has already been confronted with avalanches. One of them triggered an avalanche last year that buried a skier up to his neck.
Next day: Bluebird
The sky has cleared overnight and there are no clouds to cloud the sunrise. We meet Tobias and the others at the runway at seven o'clock. The helicopter is already waiting with its rotors running. Avalanche blasting from the air has the advantage that you can also secure remote danger spots that are difficult to access - and the risk of getting caught in an avalanche yourself is lower. To place the explosives, Tobias instructs the helicopter and Anton throws the explosives out of the open helicopter door into the slope. The charge detonates and several avalanches rush out of the steep gullies. After half an hour, the helicopter lands to load ammunition. Then the route "Matun" is secured, it is to be cleared later.
We head up to Valuga again and from there we head down towards the Matun valley. An avalanche still has to be blown off here. And it is surprisingly large. First the top layer of snow tears apart and 30 cm of snow slides off as a snow slab. However, the enormous force takes deeper layers of snow with it, so that the avalanche becomes quite large. Tobias blows off more avalanches on the Schindlerkar side so that the descent can be made safely. But just as he is about to throw the explosive charge into the slope, two skiers and a snowboarder ski into the blocked slope. The charge could explode at any moment. The blasters are extremely annoyed. They inform the piste services by radio. They stop the kamikaze snowboarders and take away their lift passes. But they can only stop one, the others flee. Now the other lift stations are informed in order to stop them. In the meantime, however, the hooligans' hotel is known, where they will be received in the evening ?
Finally, Tobias is wagging down the deep snow slope in the best ski instructor style. In the middle of the ski area, but wherever I look, untracked powder snow. You could make hundreds of tracks side by side and there would still be enough left. We let the boards run - snow fountains shoot glistening into the sky. On the opposite side of the mountain, the barrier fences are now being dismantled and the waiting skiers and snowboarders plunge into the depths. Their behavior seems insane to me: At least 50 powder junkies are skiing down the same slope at the same time. Luckily everything here has been blown up? I don't even want to think about it! Within half an hour, the untouched snow cover becomes a rutted freeride slope. Occasionally, there are even collisions between the deep snow skiers.
The blasting masters' work is done, at least for the time being. I still want more deep snow, but it quickly becomes difficult to find untracked terrain. We head off-piste in the direction of St. Christoph. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a "cloud" racing towards us. The skier above the rock band has detached a huge slab of snow. It now thunders over the rocks - and turns into an avalanche of dust. 50 meters away, five snowboarders have built a ramp. The avalanche thunders past them. I flee into the shelter of some rocks - and the avalanche shoots past. I can feel its pull?
