Palisades Tahoe avalanche shows that even resort skiing comes with nature’s wild risks

"There are certain days that you get out there and you're like, ‘Holy mackerel, this snow is really touchy.’ You know you're rolling the dice ... This didn’t feel like one of those days."

The skiers atop Palisades Tahoe’s legendary KT-22 on early Wednesday morning felt like the lucky ones: First in the lift line, they were eager to carve fresh powder immediately after the long-awaited opening of one of the nation’s most beloved peaks.

But only 30 minutes after the area was opened, with no warning or hint of trouble, the beloved runs turned deadly — fracturing, collapsing and capturing skiers, burying them in a giant pile of snow that was 150 feet wide, 450 feet long and 10 feet deep.

Kenneth Kidd, 66, of Point Reyes and Truckee, was killed in the avalanche. One other person was injured, and two people were trapped by the snow for an unknown period of time.

The skiers took no exceptional risks — they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“It felt stable,” said Andrew Hays, a veteran KT-22 skier who rushed to the site to join a beacon search and probe line for missing skiers. “There are certain days that you get out there and you’re like, ‘Holy mackerel, this snow is really touchy.’ You know you’re rolling the dice. You can feel some looseness. You can see some cracking.

“This didn’t feel like one of those days.”

Neil Lareau, a professor of atmospheric science at the University of Nevada in Reno, went backcountry touring on Wednesday morning and “encountered no red flags … (the) morning before the storm really wasn’t on my radar as a ‘heads up’ situation. I was shocked.”

Avalanches are routine throughout the vast Sierra, and frequently occur in remote areas without consequence.

What was stunning about Wednesday’s event was that it was “in bound” – inside the boundaries of the resort, where daily lift tickets can cost up to $270 – within plain view of the elegant European architecture, heated walkways, boutiques and upscale Plumpjack Café.

“If this had been a Friday, or the weekend, would have been a much worse situation,” said Hays, shaken by the experience. “There could have been dozens of people.”

It was a vivid reminder that while a snow-capped mountain may look serene from afar, it is a symbol of nature’s power and wild unpredictability, subject to any number of constantly changing factors.

“There is a misconception that because you’re in the resort, that there is safety,” said Hays. While resorts are much safer than backcountry terrain, he said, and Palisades Tahoe’s ski patrollers had done avalanche control work and assessments since Sunday, “the reality is, is that no matter what is done, the risk can never be eliminated. It’s always there.

“Every part of the mountain can, and will, slide,” he added.

The danger is largely hidden. The Sierra Avalanche Center reports that the warm and moist weather on January 2 — when temperatures around Lake Tahoe reached 40 degrees, then dropped below freezing — created a weak layer of snow called “hoar frost,” caused when moisture in the air comes into contact with a cold surface and creates unstable ice crystals. This icy layer is invisible, buried by one to three feet of heavy snow.

The layer’s fragile nature means that fresh snow isn’t bonded to the surface snow beneath it.

“New snow and high winds have loaded existing weak layers in our snowpack,” said Steve Reynaud, a snow scientist with the Avalanche Center. “During our last two storms this past week, avalanches have occurred on this weak layer, and that is expected to continue (Thursday).”

On close inspection, Lareau said, he found “facets,” which sparkle under sunlight and bounce in a gloved hand, like sugar — signs of a dangerously weak layer. He called conditions “a rotten snowpack” with “widespread instability.”

On Wednesday morning, the incoming storm was reason to rejoice for KT-22 devotees, after a long, slow and frustrating start to winter. Even as some of the resort had been open since Thanksgiving weekend, KT-22 had stayed closed.

“KT is the heart and soul of the mountain,” said Hays, who went to bed Tuesday night with his laptop on his nightstand, so he could check conditions immediately upon awakening. “Until KT is open, it doesn’t feel like the resort is really open.”

With famously steep terrain, the peak was named by resort founder Wayne Poulson. On an outing in 1946, his wife Sandy struggled to hop down the mountain’s sheer north face, so she descended by traversing it with well-controlled “kick turns” — 22 of them.

Ever since, KT-22 has been the gold standard for Sierra skiers. On powder days, devotees awake at dawn to get early access to unblemished snow.

It’s popular because it offers quick access to some of the fiercest and most interesting lines in the Sierra. In only six minutes, KT-22’s chairlift — dubbed “the best chairlift in North America” by Ski Magazine — carries people up 1,800 vertical feet.

It has been the training ground for famed Olympians like Julia Mancuso, Jonny Moseley and the late Shane McConkey, who is memoralized by a haunting eagle sculpture atop the mountain’s peak. It’s featured in such movies as the “Extreme Skiing” series, “The Hedonist,” and “License to Thrill.”

Young hot-shotters hitting the slopes seek out The Fingers, a rocky cliff zone. OId timers favor Chute 75, a wild ride with a consistent steep pitch and north-facing snow that stays good all day.

On Wednesday morning, the GS Gully and Bowl area had many enticing features. Because snowpack is so low, it offered a band of challenging rocks and some narrow chutes, as well as a more relaxing wide apron. To the skier’s right of the chairlift, it was easy to see and assess on the ride up.

In-bounds accidents are very rare, but they happen.

In 2020, a slide near the Scott Chair at Alpine Meadows, which is part of the Palisades resort, killed experienced skier Cole Comstock and injured his companion. Also in 2020, three people were killed at Idaho’s open and patrolled Silver Mountain. In 2019, an avalanche ripped across open terrain on Taos Ski Valley’s 12,481-foot Kachina Peak, killing two.

Seven people were killed at Alpine Meadows avalanche in 1982 after a spring storm dropped nearly 90 inches of snow and triggered an avalanche from the resort’s Poma Rocks, destroying the Summit Chair and terminal building.

Wednesday’s tragedy may have been triggered by the weight of skiers on the fresh terrain, said Hays. Avalanches rarely happen spontaneously.

Skier Darian Shirazi, who was on the chairlift and witnessed people swept by the avalanche from the chairlift, said “several were screaming, as all of GS Bowl slid from top to bottom … This was a shocking and terrifying experience.”

“You have to accept that there will always be a specter of the unknown,” said Hays. “You can’t predict everything. You hope for the best.”

“The mountains always change. Every storm, every year, will be a little bit different,” he said. “That’s what keeps you coming back.”