S. Tahoe man rescued from Echo Peak area

Pete says - Posted: January 8, 2013

Pat – no worries. Don’t stress for a minute. (& Mike – I’ll address your comment here as well). What the hell else do I have to do besides rest, ice, compress and elevate???

I knew the risks and exactly what I was doing. Perhaps living in the neighborhood below Echo and Flagpole for 10 years desensitized me to the risks of skiing “my back yard,” but I knew exactly what I was doing. I actually rushed a little bit getting ready to try to catch Pat and the group of snowboarders….just in case something were to happen. Cody seemed really skittish before I dropped in, but I chose the same point as you and your buddies (it looked fun and stable snow). However, I didn’t commit enough to the line enough, tried to make a turn and couldn’t get my right ski out of the snow, sending me into a cartwheel down the top vertical wall of the chute….First rotation I heard “crack, pop” and screamed….second rotation, more cracking and popping (what I now know to be my weakened MCL from “tweaking” it 2 weeks prior, my ACL and then my meniscus tearing and tibia and femur slamming and grinding at weird angles, causing bone trauma. I came to stop in a crater at the bottom of the chute, dug the slough out from around my face and gave a couple of yells for help…then for my dog Cody. I knew instantly my knee was toast, but figured I might be able to make it down on 1 leg. I struggled up, tried to make a few turns and my leg went sideways after about 50 yards. A few more yells for help and I thought it would be smart to place a call from the top of the mountain where I still had cell service. I called my partner Amanda to let her know it was pretty bad and that I would try to make it down a little bit to make a snowmobile rescue possible. I removed 1 ski and made it a few hundred yards down and to the right (the only direction I could turn, but also the same direction as the skin path, which I hoped I could follow down if needed. I made it to a saddle above Angora lakes, about 8400 feet up, and decided to call a rescue in on myself. It was 3:30 in early Jan., I was already in the shadows, and the temp felt about 15 and falling, with about and hour and a half of light. I still felt I could crawl down quite a ways (which was actually keeping me warm) but my Cody had still not followed me, and I was worried he would stay on the summit and freeze to death with his thin fur coat.

During my 911 call, I spotted Cody heading down the ridge, which offered some relief. After being told not to move, I proceeded to arrange my skis uphill so I could sit on them and elevate my leg. I also put on some extra gloves and layers and hugged my 35 pound hound dog on my lap. Shivering now, we waited about an hour for the sounds of the helicopter, which flew over me and eventually found me after I waived the florescent bottom of one of my Armada skis in the direction of the approaching heli. The pilot came on the loud speaker and told me they could not land due to the depth of snow and steep terrain, but that they would be back. We shivered some more, answered a few phone calls from SAR personnel (which froze my fingers due to the “convenient” iphone touch screen that required de-gloving to answer) until my battery died and then we waited for about 30 minutes. Freezing, but confident I would be rescued, I looked back at the alpenglow sunset over Angora Lakes, Fallen Leaf and Tahoe, smiled, hugged Cody and cried a little bit from the rush of relief as the reality of the situation sank in… 15 minutes later, help finally arrived.

I heard the helicopter first, then watched it rise from below the drop-off in front of me. It moved directly overhead, and I stuffed Cody’s head under my armpit, having already attached his collar to my glove straps so he wouldn’t become spooked and run off. I looked straight up as CHP officer Mark Flores dropped down right on top of me. Pushing him off my injured leg onto the snow, he landed and immediately began putting me into the harness, telling me the dog could go too if he would fit. We fumbled around a bit and finally got my good leg through the harness with Cody on my lap, his head still tucked in close to my body, and they hoisted me up. Scared —-less for a second, I calmed myself and realized that I HAD to appreciate this ride, with all that went into it to get me out. I kept my eyes fixed on Lake Tahoe and the bluish pink alpenglow surrounding the white peaks as they reeled us in. Seeing how small the chopper was when we reached the top, the copilot held the harness and told me we’d be riding outside, dangling from the line. I gave the thumbs up and propped my left boot on the landing rail and tried my best to stabilize the swinging and enjoy the ride down. Minutes later we landed in a scene of flashing lights in the middle of Sawmill Rd and Lake Tahoe Blvd, where I was assessed by Lake Valley paramedics (thanks Mike Anderson and crew!) and released to go home. I promised to get medical care, which I did the next day by booking an MRI outside of Sacramento and scheduled my knee appointment with Dr. Bannar. It’ll be a long road back but the “thank you” pictures from inverted athletes already back to going big in gravity sports certainly made me feel better…even though the whole office was peaking their heads in to see the guy with the really messed up MRI.

Sorry for the long rambling, but figured this was the best venue to answer questions from friends & family and those just interested in the story. Thanks again to everyone for the support…CHP, SAR, LVFD, friends & family, my wonderful partner Amanda, Scott and Willie for grabbing my gear and Dr. Bannar, Kyle and the amazing team at Tahoe Orthopedics.

Go hug a first responder or rescue volunteer and be grateful for another beautiful day in Tahoe. I will as soon as I’m allowed off the couch.

Pete & Cody

Comments

Comments (6)

Tahoe Calm says - Posted: January 2, 2013

Thank you for the update, drove past this spot on my way home and couldn’t figure out what was going on–first thought was someone fell through the ice at Sawmill Pond.
JD says - Posted: January 2, 2013

Tight community, glad to see everyone OK and looking out for one another.

Let’s all be safe out there.
Pete says - Posted: January 3, 2013

Thanks to CHP, EDC SAR, lake valley and all who helped pull us out of there. Amazing job. Forever grateful! (Sorry about the traffic jam SLT). Pete & Cody
Mike Thompson says - Posted: January 3, 2013

Hey Pete thanks for checking in here.
Great outcome over a bad situation. Hope your kneee injury is not a season ender.

I read from other sources that you are a very good skier and very experience in the Back Country around Tahoe.

It would be interesting to read more detail about this incident.
Were you were? How you got hurt?
How long did it take you to determine that You need help, not gettin out on your own.

How did SAR and CHP get you from 8400 ft to the chopper with a bum knee?

B/C skiing and issues are getting allot more publicity of late, and I for one would be interested to hear more.
Pat Harwood says - Posted: January 5, 2013

Pete,
I was the last of the boarders to drop from Echo Peak before you. I’m glad to hear you are alright. I felt bad when we met your wife at the bottom and found out you were injured just behind us. When my friends and I paused beneath the first slope off the summit a few minutes before you dropped, I remember for a split second thinking we should probably wait to watch you, but instead we chose to proceed. I regret that decision, as we could have surely helped you in the situation. In the future I hope to think more conservatively in terms of everyone’s safety. Again, I’m glad to here you got out safely. The best of luck to you.
-Pat
Pete says - Posted: January 8, 2013

Pat – no worries. Don’t stress for a minute. (& Mike – I’ll address your comment here as well). What the hell else do I have to do besides rest, ice, compress and elevate???

I knew the risks and exactly what I was doing. Perhaps living in the neighborhood below Echo and Flagpole for 10 years desensitized me to the risks of skiing “my back yard,” but I knew exactly what I was doing. I actually rushed a little bit getting ready to try to catch Pat and the group of snowboarders….just in case something were to happen. Cody seemed really skittish before I dropped in, but I chose the same point as you and your buddies (it looked fun and stable snow). However, I didn’t commit enough to the line enough, tried to make a turn and couldn’t get my right ski out of the snow, sending me into a cartwheel down the top vertical wall of the chute….First rotation I heard “crack, pop” and screamed….second rotation, more cracking and popping (what I now know to be my weakened MCL from “tweaking” it 2 weeks prior, my ACL and then my meniscus tearing and tibia and femur slamming and grinding at weird angles, causing bone trauma. I came to stop in a crater at the bottom of the chute, dug the slough out from around my face and gave a couple of yells for help…then for my dog Cody. I knew instantly my knee was toast, but figured I might be able to make it down on 1 leg. I struggled up, tried to make a few turns and my leg went sideways after about 50 yards. A few more yells for help and I thought it would be smart to place a call from the top of the mountain where I still had cell service. I called my partner Amanda to let her know it was pretty bad and that I would try to make it down a little bit to make a snowmobile rescue possible. I removed 1 ski and made it a few hundred yards down and to the right (the only direction I could turn, but also the same direction as the skin path, which I hoped I could follow down if needed. I made it to a saddle above Angora lakes, about 8400 feet up, and decided to call a rescue in on myself. It was 3:30 in early Jan., I was already in the shadows, and the temp felt about 15 and falling, with about and hour and a half of light. I still felt I could crawl down quite a ways (which was actually keeping me warm) but my Cody had still not followed me, and I was worried he would stay on the summit and freeze to death with his thin fur coat.

During my 911 call, I spotted Cody heading down the ridge, which offered some relief. After being told not to move, I proceeded to arrange my skis uphill so I could sit on them and elevate my leg. I also put on some extra gloves and layers and hugged my 35 pound hound dog on my lap. Shivering now, we waited about an hour for the sounds of the helicopter, which flew over me and eventually found me after I waived the florescent bottom of one of my Armada skis in the direction of the approaching heli. The pilot came on the loud speaker and told me they could not land due to the depth of snow and steep terrain, but that they would be back. We shivered some more, answered a few phone calls from SAR personnel (which froze my fingers due to the “convenient” iphone touch screen that required de-gloving to answer) until my battery died and then we waited for about 30 minutes. Freezing, but confident I would be rescued, I looked back at the alpenglow sunset over Angora Lakes, Fallen Leaf and Tahoe, smiled, hugged Cody and cried a little bit from the rush of relief as the reality of the situation sank in… 15 minutes later, help finally arrived.

I heard the helicopter first, then watched it rise from below the drop-off in front of me. It moved directly overhead, and I stuffed Cody’s head under my armpit, having already attached his collar to my glove straps so he wouldn’t become spooked and run off. I looked straight up as CHP officer Mark Flores dropped down right on top of me. Pushing him off my injured leg onto the snow, he landed and immediately began putting me into the harness, telling me the dog could go too if he would fit. We fumbled around a bit and finally got my good leg through the harness with Cody on my lap, his head still tucked in close to my body, and they hoisted me up. Scared —-less for a second, I calmed myself and realized that I HAD to appreciate this ride, with all that went into it to get me out. I kept my eyes fixed on Lake Tahoe and the bluish pink alpenglow surrounding the white peaks as they reeled us in. Seeing how small the chopper was when we reached the top, the copilot held the harness and told me we’d be riding outside, dangling from the line. I gave the thumbs up and propped my left boot on the landing rail and tried my best to stabilize the swinging and enjoy the ride down. Minutes later we landed in a scene of flashing lights in the middle of Sawmill Rd and Lake Tahoe Blvd, where I was assessed by Lake Valley paramedics (thanks Mike Anderson and crew!) and released to go home. I promised to get medical care, which I did the next day by booking an MRI outside of Sacramento and scheduled my knee appointment with Dr. Bannar. It’ll be a long road back but the “thank you” pictures from inverted athletes already back to going big in gravity sports certainly made me feel better…even though the whole office was peaking their heads in to see the guy with the really messed up MRI.

Sorry for the long rambling, but figured this was the best venue to answer questions from friends & family and those just interested in the story. Thanks again to everyone for the support…CHP, SAR, LVFD, friends & family, my wonderful partner Amanda, Scott and Willie for grabbing my gear and Dr. Bannar, Kyle and the amazing team at Tahoe Orthopedics.

Go hug a first responder or rescue volunteer and be grateful for another beautiful day in Tahoe. I will as soon as I’m allowed off the couch.

Pete & Cody

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