A Guide’s Analysis of the Tahoe Avalanche

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My name is Jeff Banks. I'm an internationally certified mountain guide with over 20 years of experience, and I’m also an avalanche survivor myself. Over the course of my career, I've taught avalanche safety to U.S. Special Forces, mountain guides, and everyday backcountry enthusiasts. I've also lost 15 friends and colleagues to avalanches. Losing people in the prime of their life doesn't get any easier, and it's something I'm all too familiar with.

To the families and friends of the victims, my deepest empathy for your loss. I’m sending you loving kindness during this unimaginably difficult time.

What follows is a case study, not to assign blame, but to discuss what we can learn from this tragedy and how it might save lives going forward.

What We Know

According to the Sierra Avalanche Center, a group of 15 people was caught in the slide. Twelve were fully buried. Three were rescued alive. Nine were killed. The avalanche occurred on a northwest-facing slope, measured at D2.5 on the destructive scale, meaning it fell between a D2 (capable of killing or injuring a person) and a D3 (capable of destroying a wood-framed house). It ran roughly 400 vertical feet from Perry's Point down into the forest, catching the group on the trail in the valley below as they were making their way out from a hut trip near the Frog Lake backcountry huts.

The Conditions

When there are unusual weather patterns, there are unusual avalanches. This has been a historically poor winter across the western U.S., producing widespread layers of weak, sugary snow crystals known as facets. Those fragile layers were then shock-loaded by a massive storm that dropped somewhere between three and eight feet of snow in a very short timeframe.

Picture those sugary crystals as a row of dominoes. According to the avalanche forecast for that day, those facet layers existed specifically on northwest through northeast aspects, in wind-protected terrain above 7,500 feet, the exact bullseye for the slope that released.

If you think of avalanche problem types as animals, loose snow avalanches are like a coyote… relatively manageable. An old snow problem is a mountain lion, far more dangerous and unpredictable. This slide occurred precisely where the mountain lion lives: north facing slopes with old-snow problems. Old snow problems can be triggered remotely from flat terrain, and they can also release naturally under the sheer weight of new snow and wind loading.

Why Experience Can Mislead Us

Avalanche danger was rated High. In professional terminology, High danger means natural and human-triggered avalanches are certain. Importantly, avalanche terrain includes not only slopes steeper than 30 degrees, but also the runout zones below them. A traveler may be standing on flat ground and still be exposed if a steep start zone lies overhead. In this case, the debris reached the road, a common exit route used by travelers returning from the Frog Lake backcountry huts area.

Events like this also reveal a deeper challenge: extreme conditions are, by definition, rare. Even experienced backcountry travelers and professionals may encounter High avalanche danger only a handful of days in a given season. That rarity creates an unavoidable knowledge gap. Even after more than two decades in the backcountry, I’ve experienced only a very small number of days with sustained High avalanche danger. Those limited experiences make it difficult to build the same intuitive understanding we develop under more common conditions. The snowpack behaves differently when it is heavily stressed: failures propagate farther, avalanches release more easily, and terrain that often feels familiar can respond in unfamiliar ways. When our experience is built mostly in moderate conditions, extreme conditions can outpace our expectations.

A side note: historically, some regions, such as Crested Butte, saw very few High danger days in an average winter. As weather patterns shift with climate change, those outlier conditions may appear more frequently due to inconsistent snowfall and more variable weather patterns.

Protocols That Can Save Lives

One thing that’s stood out these past weeks is how unusual this winter has been across many zones. A thin, weak early snowpack sat through long dry spells, and now that storms have finally arrived, the pull to get out is strong, especially after a slow season. But “finally winter” doesn’t mean a stable foundation. In many places it means new snow resting on old weaknesses. It’s a moment that calls for patience: lean on your training, recognize the familiar FACETS traps, and remember that turning around is still a decision that counts.

And when judgment and intuition fall short, protocol picks up the slack. Here are some fundamentals for traveling in and around avalanche terrain:

When skinning uphill, stay at least one bus length apart, often even further if in a runout zone. When skiing downhill, go one at a time. Less impact on the slope means less chance of hitting a weak point; think of it as avoiding a landmine.

On High danger days, the safest choice is to stay out of the backcountry entirely. If you must go out, you need a sharp eye for identifying avalanche terrain and must stay on slopes flatter than 30 degrees while avoiding runout zones, which is more difficult than it sounds. One reliable indicator: old-growth forest is very unlikely to be struck by an avalanche. It's not a guarantee, but it's a strong signal.

Above all, do as much of your risk assessment as possible before you leave the house. When you're cold, tired, hungry, and navigating low visibility, that's the worst time to be making critical terrain decisions. Use tour-planning tools to model the day's conditions across different danger levels, identify where the low-risk terrain is, and build your plan around it.

Tragedies like the February 17 avalanche remind us that knowledge, experience, and good intentions do not eliminate uncertainty. The snowpack is inherently variable across elevation, aspect, wind exposure, and terrain. What can be controlled is preparation, communication, and conservative terrain management when conditions warrant it.

My hope in examining this event is not to assign blame, but to learn. Each lesson carried forward is one small step toward ensuring that more people return home safely from the mountains they love.

Moving Forward, Together

I share these reflections with respect for those who were lost and with care for the community that continues to travel in the mountains. May we carry forward what we learn, support one another in making thoughtful decisions, and honor those who are gone by moving with humility and intention. Please be safe in the backcountry. Learn from each other. Remember each other.