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Lost and usually found Mail Tribune photo / Andrew Mariman Near this spot on the south side of Mount Ashland is where Matt Jackson, foreground, and his friend Chase Spencer, right, got separated one day in January. Several hours later, Matt found his way to a house in the Colestine Valley. Almost every winter, searchers look for skiers and snowboarders who lose their bearings on the "back side" of the mountain. Mount Ashland's backcountry is an easy place to get turned around By BILL KETTLER Mail Tribune Matt Jackson stood in the fresh, deep snow and yelled as loud as he could. No one answered. Riding his snowboard through the fluff had been exhilarating. He'd paused briefly where a line of bright orange signs pointed toward the ski area parking lot, but kept going downhill. When he finally stopped, nothing looked familiar. If you can't get back, don't go there, ski veteran says A veteran skier has simple advice for people who want to try out-of-bounds skiing or snowboarding: Don't go anywhere you don't know how to get back from. Steve Johnson has watched skiers and snowboarders on Mount Ashland for more than 20 years - first as a ski instructor, then as a winter recreation specialist for the Rogue River National Forest. Johnson says skiers and snowboarders need to learn their way around Mount Ashland - or any other ski area - before venturing out of bounds. The first step is to study the trail map that ski areas produce for visitors. "The main thing is to pay attention to the trail map," he said. "If you leave the ski area, it should be a conscious decision, knowing that there may not be any help" for skiers who get lost or injured. Johnson said skiers of all ages and ability levels got lost on Mount Ashland during the 1980s, but more recently most of the people who get lost have been male snowboarders in their teens and 20s. Snowboarders seem to get lost more frequently because they acquire the snowboarding skills to venture into the backcountry before they learn enough about Mount Ashland's geography to keep from getting lost. "For boarders the learning curve is much faster," he said. "A young athletic person might be on the Ariel chair (to the summit) in two or three days. For skiers that would be extremely rare. "If you spend more time on the terrain, you tend to learn (the geography) by osmosis, and pick up those do's and don'ts." Johnson noted many young snowboarders are getting some of their first real exposure to the outdoors, and often haven't acquired enough experience and judgment to make sensible choices. "Parents need to teach kids more," he said, about how to take care of themselves in the harsh winter environment, and offered a few suggestions: Never ski or snowboard alone. Always know where you are in relation to the ski area. If you separate from your partner, make a plan to meet at a specific time and place. If your partner doesn't show up at the appointed time, notify the ski patrol or the Jackson County Sheriff's Department. Give searchers the most accurate information you can. Even people with plenty of outdoor experience can run into trouble on a mountain in winter. On Wednesday, searchers on Mount Bachelor near Bend called off their search for Kate Svitek, a 22-year-old snowboarder who disappeared Feb. 9. Svitek was an avid outdoorswoman who earned a degree in outdoor recreation from the University of Vermont. "I was thinking, 'I'm kind of lost now,' " the 14-year-old Central Point youth said last week, recalling that January day. "I couldn't see the (ski) lifts anymore. I couldn't walk up. It was so hard I couldn't do it. Every time I took a step I'd sink to my knees. So I kept going down. I thought if I kept going down, I'd probably hit the freeway." Eight or nine hours later, he wandered into the Colestine Valley and knocked on the door at the last house before the California state line. "He was pretty pale and cold," Cindy Norton said of her unexpected dinner guest. "He was probably getting ready to be hypothermic. "He was lucky," Norton said. "If he'd gone the other way up there, there's nothing until you get to the coast. He would have been toast, I think." Almost every winter, searchers scour the slopes of Mount Ashland looking for people like young Matt - skiers and snowboarders who lose their way on the mountain's south side. Most who venture onto the "back side" make their way down the mountain and back to the ski area without incident. A few - mostly young or relatively inexperienced - lose their bearings. Searchers find some, like Chikako Shimoyama, a Japanese exchange student at Southern Oregon University who became disoriented Feb. 2. Others make their own way back to the ski area before anyone realizes they're lost. Occasionally someone like Matt Jackson walks out. Every now and then, someone dies before rescuers can find them. "Over the years, we've lost two or three who have gone down the south side to hypothermia or exposure," said sheriff's Sgt. Ken Curtis, who works with Jackson County's search and rescue volunteers. In 1982, for example, rescuers found the body of skier John LeBlanc face down in Cottonwood Creek about 1.5 miles from the California border. Mount Ashland's setting provides easy access to terrain where adventurous newcomers can get lost. Like many winter recreation areas, it abuts a vast expanse of uninhabited public land managed by the U.S. Forest Service. The ski area's groomed trails and chairlifts all lie on the mountain's north and east sides, but the chairlifts also provide easy access to the south and west sides of the mountain - "backcountry" outside the permit area, beyond the watchful eyes of the ski patrol. "It's generally Forest Service policy to allow backcountry access from (chair) lifts unless there's some compelling reason not to," said Steve Johnson, a winter recreation specialist for the Rogue River National Forest. "We have to strike a balance," said ski area manager Jeff Hanson, "between protecting people from getting where they shouldn't be - because they won't be able to get out - and still allowing reasonable access (to public land) from our permit area." Ropes and signs define the 220-acre ski area's boundaries and warn people who go "out of bounds" that they're on their own. Ski patrollers watch for fresh tracks across the ski area's north and west boundaries and pursue people who cross the rope. "It's very easy to get disoriented over there," Johnson said. "If you get too far down and it's hard to get back up." On the other side of the mountain, it's a different story. Skiers and snowboarders have almost unlimited access to the mostly treeless south face and hundreds of acres of wide open country. After a storm, there are hundreds of acres of unspoiled snow, where skiers and snowboarders float gently downhill through the airy powder instead of skidding across the hard surface of a groomed trail. "It's pure freedom of movement," said backcountry skier John Rodriguez of Ashland. "You can't get that on a groomed run, where the speeds are faster. "There's nothing like that natural surface. It's like an empty canvas, and you can put your signature on it." A snow-covered road on the south side provides a convenient return route to the ski-area parking lots and the chairlifts. The road creates an artificial boundary on the south side, and Ski Ashland has posted bright orange signs along the road directing skiers and snowboarders back to the lodge. People still get lost, despite the signs. Some, like Matt Jackson, deliberately ski or 'board down the south side past the road and into the trees. Others get disoriented and glide too far down the south side when clouds and fog obscure the big landmarks that usually help people find their way. "It doesn't matter how experienced you are," said Johnson, of the Forest Service. "If you get on the south side in a storm, it can be hard to tell where you are." People who ski or snowboard below the road quickly discover that climbing uphill in deep powder is incredibly hard work. Snowboarders have a much harder time ascending than skiers. Skiers can stay on their skis and side-step slowly uphill, lifting one ski at a time, gaining some flotation in the snow from their skis. 'Boarders can't move their feet independently unless they get off the board. With none of the board's buoyancy, they sink deep in the snow with every step. Walking becomes a laborious process known as "postholing." "I had to sit and rest," Matt Jackson recalled. "It was so tiring." Matt recalls seeing snowboard tracks below the road, and followed them into the trees, thinking there had to be an easy way out. Hanson, the ski area manager, said the young snowboarder may have been confused by tracks left by 'boarders who build their own jumps on the south side and entertain themselves without buying a lift ticket. "We don't have any control over that," Hanson said. "They create some tracks well below the road, and that's blurred the traditional boundary." Matt's mother, Jan Jackson, said parents need to talk to their children about the risks of going out into unknown terrain in winter conditions. "Matthew actually got very lucky," she said. "He had no clue about which way to turn on those logging roads. "Kids have got to realize it's dangerous out there." Reach reporter Bill Kettler at 776-4492, or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.