In wake of avalanche tragedy, the search is on for 'Ozone Dave'

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At first glance, they could hardly have asked for a better day. Snowmobile riders from across North America had come to the idyllic peaks of Revelstoke, B.C., a paradise of powder that on Saturday had delivered in spades. The snow was fresh, it was deep and it was a rare blue-bird day, drawing about 200 people for an event dubbed the Big Iron Shootout.

The informal, five-part competition testing the high-octane machines and mettle of riders is organized by a man known only by a suitably madcap moniker, "Ozone Dave." The first phase of the day went off without a hitch. But later, tragedy struck. Rider Shay Snortland was on his sled heading up a 330-metre face known as the Turbo Bowl when fellow riders heard a harrowing, familiar crack - an avalanche. It swept up everything in its path, killing Mr. Snortland and his business partner Kurtis Reynolds, both from the Calgary area.

"I lost the love of my life," Mr. Reynolds's widow, Shannon, said yesterday.

While the families of the two men mourned, questions began to emerge about the event, its planning and warning signs that went unheeded: avalanche bulletins, nearby slides set off as safety precautions, the warm weather. In a search for answers, many are left with one question borne of a conspicuous absence in the aftermath: Where is Ozone Dave?

The organizer has been identified by many riders as David Clark, a Calgary-area sunglasses store owner who has not been heard from publicly since Saturday's slide. He checked out of his local hotel, calls and e-mails to his Calgary business have gone unanswered, and local city councillors and police said they'd like to interview him.

The local Snowmobile Revelstoke Society distanced itself from the Big Iron Shootout yesterday, calling it "renegade" and "underground."

"I don't know when they're coming. I don't know anything about it," said Angela Threatful, executive director of the society. "I don't know who the organizers are."

Riders said Mr. Clark has "gone into hiding" after the avalanche, but some said he shouldn't shoulder any blame.

He organized the popular event. But riders say the snowmobile society, which hiked trail fees from $20 to $25 on that particular day, should play a bigger role in warning riders of the risk.

Randy MacDonald, a Calgary businessman who has known Mr. Clark for 30 years, said Mr. Clark's role was more of co-ordination and he should not shoulder any blame for the tragedy.

"From the surface it does look like he should be liable," Mr. MacDonald said. "But he did not sell tickets, he organized people together. If one guy phones another guy to say, 'I'm going out to the mountains,' is he liable?"

He suggested the increased trail fees meant the snowmobile society should bear some responsibility. "Is there some liability there? Probably not. But it certainly doesn't smell right," he said. "They should be signing indemnification for these riders that go up the mountain. But they're not. They're just selling them tickets."

Just over 270 people bought one-day passes on Saturday, which is not an unusual number for Revelstoke, Ms. Threatful said in an interview yesterday morning. But she could not be reached for comment later in the day to respond to Mr. MacDonald's allegations.

"From our perspective, we simply manage the parking areas, we manage the groomed trails and that is the scope of our operations," she said earlier, adding that driving into the back country is an individual snowmobiler's decision.

"It's all there for people. What they need to do is be able to use that information and make an informed decision. They assess the risk and decide whether that's a risk they're willing to take."

Meanwhile, snowmobilers who survived the slide recounted their stories yesterday, the same day that RCMP reopened Boulder Mountain.

Nathan Knox, 32, travelled to Revelstoke in a group of 10 that included the ill-fated riders Mr. Snortland and Mr. Reynolds. He was standing next to Mr. Reynolds, watching Mr. Snortland when the avalanche struck.

"Shay decided he was going to go up and he got stuck at the top. Our whole group, the other nine of us, were at the bottom watching him, waiting for him to come down. And he never came down. Instead, an avalanche did," Mr. Knox said yesterday.

The avalanche struck them all. Mr. Knox was rolled under, but would soon find himself under only half a foot of snow, able to wriggle free. His girlfriend was "lucky," he says - thrown free and landing atop the snow. Mr. Reynolds wasn't as fortunate, being swept by the rolling snow and dying.

"I'm lucky to be talking to you here today," Mr. Knox said.

Trent Koenigbaur had already climbed Turbo and was next in line to do so again when the avalanche struck. Behind him was Mr. MacDonald, who fired up his snowmobile but couldn't outrun the mass of snow, which smothered him and carried him 200 metres down the mountain. Some snowmobiles drove over him in the mayhem.

Tim McGregor, a champion extreme snowmobiler, looked back to find his son as the snow raced toward him. His son would prove to be safe, but the slide hit Mr. McGregor. It had been his first time back on a snowmobile in 18 months, after a bad accident nearly killed him.

"I just froze and ducked down and the snow hit me," he said. "It was just a whole bunch of wind and snow, a whole bunch of force. It just blows you back."

After it passed, Mr. MacDonald found himself beneath his own machine, buried up to his chest. "The first thing I remember is there was not one person standing. Here you're standing with 200 people. And when it was finished not one person was standing," he said, shrugging off the earlier warning signs.

"We decided to go play in the powder, threw caution to the wind because we had a fairly dry year. And [then]you get so much snow."

Mr. MacDonald then called RCMP and activated a personal locator beacon. Two minutes later, a search and rescue official from Winnipeg called back. Help was on its way."

Mr. Reynolds, 33, leaves his wife and two sons, Kadin and Cole, in Strathmore, Alta. Mr. Snortland, 33, of Lacombe, Alta., leaves his wife, Janine, and their daughters: Miya, 6, and Ilea, 4.

Editor's note: A previous version of this article incorrectly attributed a quote from Randy MacDonald. This version has been corrected.