Are you smarter than an avalanche?

Uh-oh. Too bad you left your avalanche beacon in Zurich.

You understand that mountains are living, brooding, cunning creatures. Yet you constantly cross their flanks – the mountain equivalent of a middle-finger salute. Fool! Daring them to retaliate!
 
Avalanches are the weapon of choice for murderous mountains. Let’s assume you want to survive, even though many climbers at your elite level seem hell-bent on sleeping with the fishes. The more you know about that lethal white stuff, the more likely you’ll live to middle-finger your way through another climb.
 
An avalanche creates a windblast strong enough to kill nearby climbers and loud enough to be heard by stoned hippies all the way down in Bali. Avalanches can be triggered by warming temperatures, falling rocks, rising rocks, loud sneezes, negative thinking (“I don’t like climbing anymore, waaahhh”), spicy food, kicking or scratching or swearing at the mountain, or reading a Dear John letter from your sweetheart back home.
 
Outsmarting an avalanche
Mountains will stop at nothing to smash you to smithereens. Here are some avalanche avoidance strategies, starting with the most drastic (you’ll never try it) and ending with the easiest (which you’ll probably never try, either).

• Give up mountaineering. Enroll in the Federal Witness Protection Program for a new identity and a job at Cinnabon in Omaha, Nebraska.
• Hire a sprint coach so you can dash to safety while the mountain chases your slower friends.
• When native climbers conduct their puja ceremony asking for the mountain gods’ blessing, pay attention instead of scrolling through your Tinder feed.

 
Desperate last-minute measures
Let’s say you ignore all my brilliant suggestions and get caught in an avalanche. Immediately you should:

1. Grab hold of your ice axe.
2. If you haven’t brought your ice axe, go back to Base Camp and get it.
3. Swing the axe into the ground as a brake.
4. Once the avalanche stops, pick your way through tons of snow and ice until you reach the surface. Allow a week or two for this process.
5. Remember the emergency transmitter beacon you left behind with other gear that was “just for sissies”? Next time, bring it along.

 
--Excerpted from the newly released spoof The Dumb Zone: A snarky look at your Obsessive Climbing Disorder by Leah Carson. Check it out here.