The Story Behind the Image: Ben VandenBos's Avalanche Photo

When I first saw this picture—like you, I'm sure—I was in awe. Then surprised, confused and, frankly, scared. And, I wanted to know more.

It was taken by Ben VandenBos, a scientist, avalanche forecaster/analyst, skier, climber, and photographer who grew up and lives in the Northern Rockies. He agreed to share the image with Powder , as well as a few others before and after the event.

Here's a quick Q&A with Ben:

Powder: Where do you live? Grow up? What do you do?

VandenBos: For the past decade, I have been seasonally bouncing between Bozeman in the summers and central Idaho in the winters. In this time, I have been working as an avalanche forecaster in central Idaho and a landscaper/geologist in Montana. I was fortunate enough to be born and raised in Bozeman, a child of two public school teachers.

Powder: What was happening on the day of the slide in the image? Was anyone hurt? Time of year of the slide?

VandenBos: This was a warm, wet storm day, February 2, 2024. An atmospheric river event was in progress. In central Idaho, these narrow streams of moisture have to squeak in between the Cascades and the Sierra in order to deliver significant inland moisture to the dry country of Idaho, which is exactly what was happening. I was out by myself (which is how I spend more than 90 percent of my backcountry days). Nobody was caught/carried/buried/injured. It would have been hard to escape without serious injury had you been caught.

Here's from my submitted observation that day:

"I experienced some very touchy conditions. Without exaggeration, I collapsed nearly every slope I touched, with a total collapsed area measured in square miles potentially (!?). Down low these were wet collapses, occurring in a rain-soaked snowpack that was wet to the ground.

"These collapses routinely traveled hundreds of feet. Up higher, I experienced huge, booming collapses where the snowpack had remained dry. All collapses involved 1/6 to 11/30 weak layers, which have both become a basal weak layer in places where the snowpack has remained thin.

"Many collapses resulted in a vertical displacement of the snowpack of 1–3 cm. At middle and upper elevations, where the snowpack is dry, these collapses produced large cracks that extended for hundreds to thousands of feet (!)."

Powder: What was the snow like when the slide happened? Obviously weak layers, etc.

VandenBos: There were two primary weak layers in our snowpack at this point in the season. A basal weak layer of advanced facets that were developing into depth hoar (buried 11/30), and a mid-pack weak layer that we started to bury on 1/6 (I was calling this one the insurrection weak layer). I snuck this into my Forecast on 1/6 ("There isn't enough new snow to throw our snowpack into revolt today, but the roots of unrest are building.")

In the mountains where the avalanche was triggered, these weak layers had essentially merged into a single weak layer, thanks to lack of snow (see attached pit photo). When I started my tour, precipitation was falling as a wintery mix of sleet/snow/rain/graupel.

As I climbed, new precip dried out and was falling as all snow. I triggered the slide picture in the image (as well as several other large to very large avalanches) from generally flat terrain in ridgetop locations. As I walked along the dense, wind-drifted snow, I periodically triggered enormous, very loud collapses. I was able to trace the resulting cracks for thousands of feet along these ridges.

Powder: Did you learn anything from that particular slide (the reason I ask is because I've been caught in 2 slides and they were both in places where no one would ever expect them)?

VandenBos: Great question. I went into this area expecting to trigger large avalanches. However, it is one thing to anticipate slides like this, but actually triggering them and watching the aftermath is a different experience.

One of the biggest challenges presented by traveling in backcountry terrain is a challenge to our imagination. It is hard to believe that we, as single human beings, can cause these things to happen. Of course, when they do, and when you watch them rocket downslope and snap green timber like a matchstick, it is impossible to ignore.

Powder: Are you a pro or semi pro photographer?

VandenBos: I take many, many photos, and love looking at the world through my lens, but I've never really pursued the pro photographer track. I think that puts me in the amateur category.

I shot this photo with my drone, had some serious icing happening on the blades thanks to the super-cooled water droplets in the air... but he hung on (named him Buzz, for the obnoxious noise drones make). What a spectacular tool for looking at avalanches.

Powder: What are you favorite areas to ski and "just watch... the world unfold." (I love that you put that in there like that.)

VandenBos: Oh man, this is a tough question.... I am strongly tied to the intermountain west, where dry conditions and wet conditions meet. The area between Southwest Montana and Central Idaho fits that bill perfectly. Fascinating snowpacks, steep, rocky, under-explored mountains, and an impressive lack of other humans make this corner of the world home. It is a magical experience to walk in snow that hasn't been touched by a human, and to know that you may be the only human that gets to. Wealth to make a king blush.

Powder: Thanks, Ben. And while avalanches are a huge topic unto themselves, check out this topic: earthquakes and avalanches. All we need now is a two-headed shark.