CAUGHT OUT: SHELTER, SNOW CAVES AND THE UNPLANNED NIGHT
13 min · Free lesson · written from fifteen years in the terrain
After this lesson you know what to do when the day ends badly and you are staying out: where to shelter, how to build a snow cave that does not collapse or suffocate you, how to have a fire without poisoning yourself, and how to raise the alarm if the guide is the one who is hurt.
The Technique
- Start with the decision, because it is the one people get wrong. If you are benighted, lost, or the weather has shut the day down, **the question is not how to get home, it is whether to move or to stop.** Moving in the dark, in a whiteout, or through terrain you cannot read turns a bad situation into a rescue. If you cannot navigate reliably and you are not in immediate danger where you stand, you stop and you build. Rescue finds stationary people.
- Where you stop matters more than what you build. Get out of the wind first, get off ridgelines and away from anything that can slide onto you, and **get to the tree line if it is reachable and safe**. Trees mean wind protection, fuel, building material and something for a searcher to see against. A hollow on the leeward side of a slope holds deeper drifted snow, which is what you want to dig into, but check what is above you before you commit.
- The snow cave, done properly, and the two things that kill people in them are collapse and carbon monoxide. Dig into a drift or a bank rather than down from the surface. Keep the chamber small, because a small space is warmed by your body and a large one is not, and **dome the roof rather than flattening it**, since an arch carries load and a flat ceiling sags and comes down. Leave the roof thick, around a good arm's depth, and smooth the inside so meltwater runs down the walls instead of dripping on you.
- **Put the entrance below the level of where you will sit or lie.** Cold air sinks and warm air rises, so a low entrance traps the warmth in the chamber above it. Block the entrance loosely with a pack rather than sealing it.
- **Then make a ventilation hole, and keep making it.** Poke a hole through the roof with a pole or a branch and clear it regularly, because snow drifts and breath ice will close it while you sleep. **This is the step people skip and it is the one that kills them.** A sealed snow cave with people breathing in it becomes a carbon dioxide problem, and if you have any flame in there it becomes a carbon monoxide problem very quickly.
- **Line the floor.** Snow will take your heat all night through anything you are wearing. Branches, boughs, a pack, a sled seat, a foam mat, anything at all between you and the snow. This is not comfort, it is the difference between a cold night and hypothermia, and it is the single most effective thing you will do after getting out of the wind.
- Fire, honestly. **A fire inside a snow cave is a genuinely dangerous idea**: it melts the structure and it fills a confined space with carbon monoxide that you cannot smell and will not wake up from. If you want fire, build it outside or right at the entrance where the smoke draws away, keep it small, and use it for warming, drying and morale rather than trying to heat a cave with it. A candle inside gives a surprising amount of warmth and light, and still needs the vent.
- **Raise the alarm properly, and assume you may have to do it without the guide.** If the guide is incapacitated then somebody else is running this, and that is a role to have thought about beforehand. Every trip we run tells you who carries the satellite communicator and where the beacon lives, precisely so that information does not disappear with one person. Send early, give position first and description second, and then stay where you said you would be.
- **Preserve the phone.** In cold, batteries collapse. Keep it against your body, switch it to low power or aeroplane mode between attempts rather than letting it hunt for signal all night, and do not waste charge on photographs or on repeated calls from a hole with no coverage. A phone with battery in the morning is a rescue asset. A flat one is a brick.
- What should be in the pack every single day so that this is inconvenient rather than fatal: an emergency shelter or thermal blanket, two ways to make fire, a headtorch, high energy food you will actually eat cold, a water reserve, a spare set of thermals, **a spare pair of goggles**, and a light down jacket. It is a small amount of weight and it converts an unplanned night from an emergency into a story.
- Finally, the case that should decide this for you, and it is the closest Dan has come to an accidental night out. A friend wanted to keep dropping into uncharted terrain for fresh turns, steeper and steeper, into thicker and thicker trees. **They cliffed out at the bottom** and had to turn around and ride back up and out, with nightfall coming and a serious storm arriving. Within five minutes their own tracks were completely snowed in and there was no visible way back, so in thick timber the only option was straight up.
- What that actually looked like: both sleds nearly out of fuel, pull after pull, and the friend so fatigued he could no longer ride. Dan leapfrogged the machines out, riding one until it trenched, walking back down for the other, riding that up until it trenched, digging both out, and going again. **When a sled is not running the stator is not charging, so the headlights die.** Their head torches were already flat. So it finished in complete darkness, digging machines out of deep snow, out of fuel, and they got out just before sunrise.
- Read what made that survivable rather than fatal, because it was not skill alone: plenty of food and water, two riders who had trained hard in the gym for years, real sledding experience, and it happening early in the trip while they still had reserves. **Change any one of those, or add an injury, and it is a different story.** They considered stopping and staying the night more than once.
- **Dan's own conclusion is the thesis of this lesson: in hindsight they should have called it, built a snow cave, stayed the night, and ridden out in daylight.** Knowing when to call it is the skill. An unplanned night in a shelter you built on purpose is an experience. A night spent fighting terrain in the dark with no fuel and no light is a rescue that has not happened yet.
Common Mistakes
Dropping into uncharted terrain late in the day or with weather coming. Fix: the way out is always harder and slower than the way in, and fresh snow erases your track in minutes. Commit early or not at all.
- Pushing on through the dark or a whiteout to get home. Fix: if you cannot navigate reliably and you are not in danger where you are, stop and build. Rescuers find people who stay put.
- Sealing the cave to keep the warmth in. Fix: vent it, and clear the vent through the night. Suffocating in a warm cave is a real way people die.
- Lying straight on the snow. Fix: get something under you. The ground takes more heat than the air ever will.
- Building a fire inside the shelter. Fix: outside or at the entrance, small, with the smoke drawing away from you.
The Drill
The backyard night, or the closest you can manage. Build an emergency shelter with only what is in your day pack, spend an hour in it, and see what you are missing. Then fix the pack. Doing this once at home costs an evening. Discovering it in the field costs considerably more.
Snow shelter construction is a physical skill best learned with an instructor and a shovel, in daylight, before you need it. Hypothermia management is covered separately in this library and applies the moment anyone stops moving. This is general guidance, not professional advice.
LET'S BUILD
YOUR
ADVENTURE
Whether you want to surf Japan's legendary powder, ride the Old Telegraph Track to the tip of Cape York, or chase a New Zealand winter - tell us what you're dreaming about and we'll build the trip around you.