Jessie Martin plays with Izzy the avalanche dog in Silver Lake First Aid

Sue Anderson plays with two of the avalanche dogs in the Flagstaff patrol shack

First-year patroller Chris Le Vine skis the trees on Flagstaff

Le Vine skis Keno on Bald Mountain

It’s the question I’ve received most often: “How many of you are working today?” Followed by: “What the heck do you guys do all day?” 

Here are the numbers: 

Roughly 40 full-time patrollers at Deer Valley

17 of them are rookies

20-30 others are part-time or on-call

25-30 patrollers are on-duty on any given day

3-7 patrollers are assigned to each of the resort’s six patrol shacks 

Together, patrol represents a varied lot, ranging from former tree-trimmers who hail from Minnesota, to former real estate developers who lived in Florida, to paramedics, firefighters, physicians’ assistants, and journalists-on-hiatus (ahem).   

We’ve proven, however, a truly cohesive unit, one united by the drive to maintain Deer Valley Ski Patrol’s reputation as one of the elite patrols in North America. More on that in a future post.  

Our day starts with morning meeting at 8 a.m. Picture roll call from any police procedural, and you get the idea – albeit without the Formica desks or crusty sergeants. 

For about half-an-hour, we review major events from the previous day, the ski-trail grooming plan, any projects that need attention (such as opening or closing trails), and the weather forecast. If there’s time, we do a practice assessment: one patroller plays a patient, the other the first-responder – think of it as early-morning amateur theater, replete with a peanut gallery. Then we head to our assigned mountains for opening runs.   

Each patroller is tasked with skiing several particular trails during openers. The main purpose is to ensure each run is safe to open to the public, a task which includes surveying the snow conditions, making sure bamboo and rope lines are firmly planted in the snow, and checking that pads are still in place on lift towers, trail signs, snow guns, and other obstacles. Opening runs are also when we plant our slow signs.  

The rest of the day then proceeds much you might expect: responding to skier-wrecks, installing or removing bamboo and rope lines, performing speed control, training, and otherwise skiing around. The end of the day approaches at 3 p.m., when Empire Patrol begins its sweeps, closing that portion of the mountain and funneling skiers back toward the Silver Lake and Snow Park lodges.

 Sweeps are staggered across each mountain. And in addition to ensuring that no guests are left on any runs, we also prepare the trails for Deer Valley’s overnight workers: the snowmakers and snowcat operators. We remove the slow signs we installed that morning and pull back rope lines to allow the snowcats to groom the trails. If all goes according to plan, we’re off the slopes by 5:15 p.m., just as the cats are rumbling from their garage off Ontario run.

The day flies by. With six mountain peaks as our office, how could it not? Next up: more on responding to skier wrecks, the divide between “wreck” and “project” patrollers, and The Wheel of Misfortune. 

Any questions? Shoot an email to alneuhauser@gmail.com.

Sun! Snow! Tourists!

It’s my first year on Deer Valley Ski Patrol, and I’m here to see it all. Eight weeks ago, I resigned my full-time job as an editor with Patch Media in New Jersey, and accepted a position with patrol – a job I’ve wanted to do since my first trip to the slopes as a 6-year-old. It meant leaving family and friends more than 2,000 miles behind, and moving to a town where I didn’t know a single soul. What’s more, by pure coincidence (I think, anyway), this season has so far proven one of Utah’s driest on record, with December experiencing its lowest level of snowfall in recorded history.

This rookie season on patrol, however, could hardly be better. Heck, I’m beaming even as I write this blog post. Joining DVSP marked one of the biggest transitions of my life. But from the DVSP team, to the resort’s leadership, to the guests, these past eight weeks have proven some of the most fun and fulfilling I’ve ever experienced.

This blog will record the life of a rookie patroller with DVSP. Previously, it was penned by Matt DeWaard, a long-time patroller, former hill captain, and great photographer who left a big pair of ski boots to fill. Over the course of the next four months, I’ll bring you photos, videos, and insight into the day-to-day life of a first-year patroller. Send thoughts, questions and suggestions to alneuhauser@gmail.com. You can also learn a little about my own background by visiting www.alanneuhauser.com.

Below, here are photos of patrol from early in the season. Far, far more to come soon!

Ninja, is an 11-week-old German short hair pointer, lab mix, born June 4, 2011 in Utah. Deer Valley Snow Safety Supervisor Sue Anderson is Ninja’s owner and handler.

 When Ninja isn’t hiking the trails at Deer Valley or riding chairlifts he loves walks, chewing on shoelaces and squeaky toys. Ninja has already learned his name, the commands sit and come and loves tug-o-war. Tugging is an important part of his training; Sue will use his love of the game to teach him to dig for buried skiers.

Deer Valley’s other avalanche dogs have the task of mentoring Ninja and showing him it’s ok to be around horses, noisy machinery, bikes and skis and guests. Quick to fit in, Ninja followed Lila, Izzy and Piper through a 60 foot culvert pipe with no fear earlier in the week and also kept pace with the big dogs while swimming and hiking in the nearby Uinta Mountains.

Sue’s biggest training goal this summer is to socialize Ninja and ensure he isn’t afraid of anything he may encounter on the mountain. He’s quickly mastering everything Sue throws his way and has taken a liking to Lila. 

This winter Ninja will start learning to only follow commands from Sue and his second handler; a necessary skill to ensure when skiers or bikers call to him while on the mountain they do not distract him from his task or risk him getting hurt.

Watch for more updates this winter of Ninja in training. If you see him on the mountain make sure to ask permission from a trainer before petting or playing with him.

However, the abundent snowfall and wet May and June delayed our trail building process! Now, the trails are well underway and here is an update with Chris Erikkla, Bike Patrol Supervisor:

Has anyone been out on the new trail system yet? If not, see the video below for a guide to Tour des Suds with Chris Erikkla. This trail has been expanded across Flagstaff Mountain to now access Ruby Express Chairlift.

Deer Valley Ski Patrol on Closing Day (photo: Matt DeWaard)

If you made it up here over closing weekend, you know that the snow conditions actutally felt like mid- January.  The season ended with back-to-back powder days!

Our summer season of lift-served hiking, biking and scenic rides is scheduled to begin on June 17 (conditions permitting). We will keep you updated on summer operations as there is still A LOT of snow that needs to melt. The resort closed on Sunday, April 10 with an impressive snow base depth of 132 inches!

In the meantime, you can still enjoy some of your favorite Deer Valley foods.  Deer Valley Grocery~Cafe is staying open year-round and will continue to offer a changing daily selection of freshly-made on-site and to-go items throughout the spring and summer.  Hours will be expanded to 8:30 p.m. to include dinner service during Deer Valley’s summer season.  Deer Valley Grocery~Cafe has a beautiful deck overlooking the Deer Valley duck ponds and will continue deck service throughout the spring and summer as weather allows.

Deer Valley’s groomers working hard to turn fresh snow into corduroy on Keno. 8.15 am, Bald Mountain.

As a mother and a skier, Richardson’s death has weighed heavily upon me. By nature, I’m cautious. As a kid, I earned the slowest times on the race-course because my fear of crashing outstripped my desire to be a competitor. As an adult, I am hyper-aware of what’s going on around me on the hill—I regularly cede right of way in the name of safety, and I know if I’m ever the uphill skier headed for the makings of a crash with another skier, my best and only option in that moment is to fall down. I also know that if I do have a crash, I’m going to take seriously every shred of advice offered by the pros—from the Ski Patrol to any medical professionals I may encounter as a result.

 Nothing ruins a bluebird day like a preventable accident.

I know, I’ve talked mountain safety before, but I’m feeling like I need to do it again. Especially after the events that transpired Sunday. Also, we’re heading into a very busy period at Deer Valley, so I want to make sure that everyone has a great experience on the hill—and avoids the dreaded run….to the hospital.

I hit the slopes on a perfect day with two friends—both far more skilled and experienced skiers than myself (notice a recurring theme? I tend to push myself by skiing with excellence. My dad always said, “It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you are surrounded by turkeys.”)

Anyway, we had the usual tumble-bumble of getting everyone packed off to ski school, and my girls and I hit the lift for our first run. We agreed that the place we wanted to spend our time was Deer Crest, given the beauty of the day, and with the hope that it would be less crowded than other parts of the mountain.  We opted to get over there by skiing Big Stick to Little Stick to the bottom of Deer Hollow. It’s a great run to warm up on, because it’s such varied terrain. Big Stick offers a couple of steep sections, and Little Stick and Deer Hollow give the skis and legs a chance to get in sync for carving.

 I’ll add here that we weren’t out to break any records or do anything nuts. It was to be a day of socializing, skiing, and I hoped to learn a little by osmosis. So as we began the run, we spaced ourselves out, so that we could make our warm-up turns at our own paces. I’m the most familiar with the mountain, so I took the lead. One of my friends, at the last drop before Big Stick intersects Roamer, pulled ahead of me. For some reason, I stopped for a second to check on the other. I found her splayed out on the hill; we shouted down to our other pal, and she popped her skis off and hoofed it back up the trail.  

A man was collecting her poles and asking, “Are you OK?” Although, I have to say, he was kind of barking at her—demanding that she be OK, and when she didn’t respond immediately (she couldn’t, she was catching her breath, getting her bearings and trying to decide), he snapped, “You could at least answer me!” The scary response from my friend (After she politely said, “please don’t yell at me,”) was:  “I don’t know.” She went on to say to the man: “I didn’t see you—how did you collide with me?” He couldn’t answer. She (and we) did the only sensible thing, which was to stay still and breathe deeply, and calmly, so that we could, together, ascertain whether she was fit to keep skiing. Luckily, we didn’t have to make that call ourselves. A passing skier stopped, and identified himself as an off-duty instructor from the Deer Valley Ski School. After our friend explained that her head hurt and she felt nauseated, the instructor called Ski Patrol. No sooner had he placed the request than a patroller skied along the trail and stopped to help. 

As the ski patroller took control, my friend explained that she was knocked down by the other skier. Although he seemed unwilling to take responsibility for causing the accident, there wasn’t much doubt he was the uphill skier, so in my mind, he bore the brunt of responsibility. And to his credit, he did the right thing by sticking around to talk to patrol.  Ultimately, the patrol member made sure to tell my friend that her well-being was more important to establish in this moment than fault—and after further examination in the First Aid House at Snow Park, my friend was transferred by ambulance to Park City Medical Center to have a CT scan, to determine the extent of the injury. Fortunately, she checked out fine—and sense of humor intact. When the attending physician handed her the radiology report, and said, “It’s good,” my pal cracked wise: “Not GREAT?! What about GREAT?!” “Um, it’s either good or bad,” the doc smiled. “We’ll take good,” I said, swiftly, as though there were some danger of the doctor changing the report.

As we drove back to the mountain to meet our families for lunch at Silver Lake, my friend said, repeatedly, “Thank God I was wearing that helmet!” I could not agree more.

So here’s my take-away from the “lost” ski day. I’d trade anything not to have seen the value of skiing in control (something my friends and I pride ourselves on) and the value of wearing a helmet firsthand. The only thing worse than a ski day wrecked by a trip to the ER is a ski day wrecked by a trip to the ER with worse results than we saw.

 All three of us agreed that taking EVERY necessary precaution to make sure that the injury was mild was worth the perceived inconvenience (or added drama) to the day—and when it was over, we all admitted to having had Richardson’s accident top-of-mind as the events unfolded.

 Please be safe out there. And if an accident should happen, remember, the Ski Patrol have no investment in having you take every precaution—other than seeing you safely back on skis, as soon as possible.

Here are some photos of the crew in Lady Morgan on Friday:

Jamey Liddell in the "White Room"

Deer Valleys Snow Safety Supervisor Susan Anderson