Full-Depth Avalanche & 5-Star Dust-on-Crust in Patagonia

Report from September 25, 2026

We sat for 5 days, then got one OK, wet powder day.

Then we sat for 3 more days and watched the rain completely destroy our zone.

Some of the bigger avalanches I’ve seen in Patagonia…

The rain saturated the snow to the tops of the peaks and the snowpack decided to peel off like a banana skin.

I’m talking big, D3 avalanches that ripped down to the ground.

Well, we didn’t know they’d ripped to the ground.

Yet…

The forecast, when it finally went blue, was iffy, so we slept in and slow-rolled out the door.

We left the house about 10:30 am and did our classic tour of the zone, inspecting lines, possibilities, and how to dodge these huge avalanches.

I believed the avy danger was over at this point, as it had been a couple of days since the rain saturation and avalanche cycle.

It snowed about 3″ at road level, so we guessed it would be like our last wet powder day a few days earlier, with nothing over 5″ in depth.

Instead of avoiding the avalanches, we ran directly towards one.

The biggest one.

Debris was everywhere as we booted up into the zone.

Being stubborn, I tried to skin up a bit of it and fell twice.

The second fall was on rocks covered in a few inches of snow that really pissed off an old injury (when The Foot blind-side tackled me in the midst of first legal day drinking just after turning 21 and chipped the tips of both the bones on my elbows…)

With a pissed-off elbow and a memorable lesson, I put my crampons on and followed Skip upwards.

And I followed Skip all day.

He led the charge with the booter and the skinner all day long, saving me a ton of energy in the process.

For our first run, we chose a zone we’d hit with Tyler and Allie in the very beginning of our trip.

The snow was about 4″ deep, on the wetter side, and it was all sitting on a stout crust.

The clouds finally started to break up as we luncheoned on top.

I dropped first into a sea of speckled light and cloud.

The effect was mesmerizing…

Like skiing in a lava lamp.

The snow was good enough and slow enough to ski fast.

I made a few turns lining up a miniature chute, then just pointed it.

The chute bucked me a bit on the exit. I waved to Mom, got it together, knew I needed to dump speed and that this bone yard was not the place to do it.

I pointed it, stayed light, searching for deeper-looking snow I could really lay a turn into.

I found it, grimaced, cranked the turn, and hit nothing.

From there it was off to the races.

Big, open, mellow terrain with no reason to turn anywhere.

Light track heavy avalanche. Image: SnowBrains

I drifted huge turns down onto one of the big fingers down low and enjoyed the view.

1,950 vertical feet top to bottom.

Skip came next after a big wait for light and got his kicks tickling the finger just skier’s left of mine.

We were full of smiles and hugs at the bottom.

We marched across the big avalanche debris, across the bed surface and up to the Mini AK zone we know and love.

The avalanche surprised us upon closer inspection.

We’d assumed it was an avalanche of just the new snow that fell a few days before (about 4″ deep), but the crown was 3 feet deep down to the ground.

It was a full-depth avalanche, about 200 yards wide.

Skip skiinning up near the top. Image: SnowBrains

A biggie…

I just wanted to get home via the least energetically taxing route.

Once on the ridge, Skip talked me into continuing up to the top.

Up top, we found a sweet line for him to ski and he nailed it.

Skip skirting the debris. Image: SnowBrains

“5-star dust-on-crust!” crackled through my radio.

I laughed and set my sights on the Mini AK zone.

I wanted to ski the line Skip had skied so many weeks ago.

I skied it bad; the snow was bad, rock protruded everywhere, and it was damn fun.

The penalty was high, however.

I had to pick and walk my way down rock-hard avalanche debris and true rock with 3″ of snow on it.

It took a while and I was rewarded with some schmooey hot powder turns on the apron.

We were shocked the day had taken the twist that it had.

From “the zone is destroyed,” to “this is pretty fun,” to skiing the best terrain around.

We bounced happily downhill knowing that despite our wood-burning stoves being cold, the sun would have warmed our little container home to about 68ºF.

This was our last ski day together.

The abysmal forecast triggered me to pull the rip cord and fly home a week early.

The 5-day forecast was all rain and cloud…

Skip drilling in the booter. Image: SnowBrains

Bailing now would give me an extra week with my wife before Antarctica (yes, I’m flying right back to Patagonia in 3 weeks), avoid sitting around in the rain for 5 days, and get me out of the 9-hour drive to a 9-hour ferry ride to a 3-hour drive to get to my original flight.

Skip, you’re on your own, buddy!

What a trip.