No friends on a powder day? It depends where they're waiting

I've built software for both halves of "no friends on a powder day." SkiBuds started as a way to find people to share a place to stay and became, as I put it in 2021, a way to find people to ride with "from a safety perspective." Then, after the spring 2020 lockdown, I spent several weeks sleeping in my car in Oregon and building lift-status notifications into the original app, so that on a deep morning you could plan which lifts to hit as they opened without constantly checking your phone. The app was for finding a partner. The feature was for getting to the right lift first. (Lift status isn't part of the rebuilt app, which is coming soon.)

So I agree with the saying at the bottom of the lift. Fresh snow on a popular run doesn't last the morning, and nobody should spend the best hour of the season at the base waiting for someone who slept through their alarm. I've flown to Bellingham for it: in the 2020/21 season I went up to work with Michael and get some epic pow days in at Mt. Baker. But the saying is about waiting, and it never says where. A Northwest deep-snow safety site splits it in two with one sentence about riders who suffocate in tree wells and deep snow: "Many SIS victims have died while their partners were waiting at the bottom of a lift." Waiting at the bottom of the lift for a friend who is late costs you snow. Waiting there for a partner who is still up in the trees is what that sentence is about. My version: no waiting on a powder day, but no riding the trees alone either.

At the base, wait five minutes, then go

The late-friend half is the easy one, and it works best when it's boring and specific. Pick a lift and a time the night before; "around 8" is how you lose an hour. Then agree how long you'll wait. Five minutes at the bottom of the lift is plenty, and after that whoever is there goes. Anyone who misses it texts the group and catches up at a set regroup, like the top of a named lift at 10:30 or lunch at a particular lodge. Because everyone agreed to it, nobody is offended when it happens.

The rule only works if the line stays fair, so no cutting and no saving spots. Everyone set an alarm, and a friend who shows up late can join the back of the line or meet you at the regroup. If your group is split anyway, use the singles line to fill empty seats; chairlift etiquette covers the ride up. Pair up while you're all still standing together, by pace and by what each person wants to ride, so the friend who wants groomers doesn't end up following the fastest rider into trees they can't manage. Skiing with friends of different abilities covers splitting laps without splitting the day, and planning a powder day with friends covers whether the storm is worth the alarm.

A partner at the bottom of the lift can't see you in the trees

Deep, loose snow collects around tree trunks and in pockets of ungroomed terrain, and a rider who falls into it, usually headfirst, can get stuck and suffocate. Safety groups call it snow immersion suffocation, or SIS. The National Ski Areas Association puts its rule in one line: always ski or ride with a partner within viewing distance. It sends riders to Deep Snow Safety, the site behind the bottom-of-the-lift sentence, whose listed contacts include the operations manager at Mt. Baker Ski Area. The same page has a figure that changes what "riding with friends" means: "More than half of all SIS victims were with partners that did not see them go down."

Those riders weren't alone by the group chat's definition. They had partners. What they didn't have was anyone watching when they went in, and in a tree well that is the only definition of alone that counts. The page doesn't give the count behind "more than half," and I'd like to see it. But it points the same way as the NSAA rule and as the site's own blunter line: "Lose sight of your partner and you could lose your friend."

Keeping each other in view takes work. A line you could have linked top to bottom becomes a series of short pitches, and partners may need to choose a more open route to stay visible. Agree on that before entering the trees, and choose terrain everyone can ride.

Deep Snow Safety says these accidents often occur during or just after major storms, in deep powder and trees. If the group cannot maintain visual contact, choose a groomed run instead; the same source says staying on groomed runs greatly reduces the risk.

In the trees, ride short pitches and look back up the hill

Deep Snow Safety's advice for dense trees is to "ski or ride short pitches and stop to regroup often." How short is short? Short enough that whoever stops can still see the person above them. One rider goes and stops where the other can see them, the second comes down, and you go again. Stop where you are visible from above, which the Responsibility Code asks of everyone anyway.

That gives you a test you can run in a second at every stop: before you look down at the next line, look back up the hill. If you can see your partner, wait for them and go on. If you can't, stop and shout or blow a whistle. If they don't answer right away, Deep Snow Safety's advice is to assume they need help and call ski patrol. Save the patrol number before the first chair, and keep your phone somewhere you can reach with gloves on. If you find a buried partner, call for help if possible and begin rescue immediately, starting with their airway. Review Deep Snow Safety’s rescue steps before riding.

None of this reaches past the boundary. Patrol opens terrain when it's ready, and a loud line doesn't speed that up, so never duck a rope or enter a closed area. Terrain beyond the boundary is a different day with a different plan: an avalanche forecast, rescue gear, training and a partner who has all of it. Start with how to read an avalanche forecast.

The message to send the night before

Fill in the brackets and send it to the group chat. If you're sharing a car, add the driver and the time you're leaving; how to plan a ski carpool covers the rest.

Meeting at [lift] at [time]. We wait five minutes, then go. If you miss it, text and catch us at [regroup spot] at [time]. In the trees we ride in pairs, in short pitches, and stop where we can see each other. If anyone loses sight of their partner, we stop, shout and call patrol at [number]. Nobody ducks a rope.

The lift-status feature mostly failed. Many resorts had started reporting lifts as open when they were only expected to open, so outside a few smaller mountains (Timberline worked great) it was, in my words at the time, somewhat useless. Whether you still have a partner is easier to check, because you can look. In the photo at the top of this page, a snowboarder in a green jacket has stopped at the edge of the glade and is watching a skier in red come down through the deep snow. Neither of them is at the bottom of a lift.