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Story by Aaron Gerry
Photographs courtesy of Sarah Hueniken/Mountain Muskox/Arc'teryx
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At 2:27 p.m., on March 11, 2019, Sarah Hueniken observed a powder cloud on Mount Stephen, in Field, British Columbia, from the eastbound train tracks leading to town. The fast-charging flow was directly above Massey’s Waterfall, a popular WI4, where she knew a guided ice climbing group was stationed.
Seen from afar, the size 2.5 avalanche was a worst-case scenario for Hueniken — and it would change everything for those involved.
Sarah Hueniken, an Arc’teryx Athlete, is an Association of Canadian Mountain Guides (ACMG) certified Alpine Guide and organizer of the all-women’s ice climber-training program that had several guided groups out that day.
Back on the ground after finishing the multipitch, the party at Massey’s was repacking their bags when they were caught. One participant was partially buried, with only her arm clear of the snow. Another was missing but was quickly pinpointed by the group’s transceivers.
Twenty minutes later, Hueniken arrived on the scene. Despite the group’s best efforts, Hueniken’s close friend, Sonja Johnson Findlater, lost her life a day later in the hospital.
Living with that reality proved to be nearly impossible for Hueniken.
"I wasn't sure I wanted to or could return to the mountains in any sort of way,” she says.
The incident plunged Hueniken into a world of depression; what was once a place of joy and connection was now a constant reminder of pain and loss. She wondered if she could ever get back. What it would take, it turned out, was a shift in how she understood grief, trauma, healing — and the universal search for grace.
If you climb long enough, you are likely to experience an accident, or at the very least know someone who has. And when it comes to trauma in the mountains, even seemingly commonplace events — like a near-miss rockfall or accumulated stress from long days in the alpine — can trigger the same sort of physiological and emotional responses as a serious injury or tragic mischance.
Depression, fear, shame, loneliness, and other responses to trauma often go unrecognized among the mountain community, and, at least until recently, seeking therapy has not been the status quo after critical incidents.
“After the first accident, I jumped right back into things and was climbing two days later, doing some aggressive routes and bigger alpine stuff. That was just kind of the general recommendation: to get back on the horse and not let it stew for too long,” says Oakley Werenka, a Calgary-based climber who experienced two mountain accidents within a year of each other.
Hueniken climbing on La Pomme D'or (WI5+ 330m ), a classic ice route in Québec. Photo by John Price
But unresolved trauma can have life and death consequences, according to Barry Blanchard, an ACMG Mountain Guide who was involved in a fatal client accident when his tool popped while guiding in 1986. In Not Alone, an Arc’teryx Presents film about the Massey’s avalanche and how Hueniken confronted the aftermath, Blanchard notes that the suicide rate for snow safety specialists and mountain guides is six times higher than the national average.
In hindsight, Werenka doesn’t believe returning to climbing right away was a wise choice. “My headspace was off,” he says. “I guess it's a bit of a catch-22 because when you talk to some of these high-profile climbers, they did their best climbing and their most significant accomplishments when they were kind of in that ‘off’ headspace. But what are the odds, right? I think it catches up to you one way or another.”
Traditional Therapy Wasn’t the Answer
For months after the accident, Hueniken hardly left the house.
She began questioning herself in everyday situations, and when she did return to climbing, she doubted her accumulated wisdom gained over decades in the mountains. “I just couldn’t trust anything,” she says. As the first North American woman to mixed climb M11, M12, M13, and M14, an accomplished alpinist, and an alpine guide, she could no longer rely on her training and instincts.
Hueniken knew she needed help.
She began counseling with Janet McLeod, a clinical and community psychologist who specializes in mountain professionals, and who Hueniken describes as “life-saving.” McLeod was one of only a few specialists in mountain-focused therapy at the time. Most therapists, even if they are trained in grief and loss, aren't well-versed in adventure pursuits and what it means to choose to engage with risk and the rewards that can come from that.
“Oftentimes, professionals who don’t have experience in these spaces might suggest that their client simply stop doing the activities. The thinking often is, Oh, just eliminate the exposure,” says Sydney Badger, a registered clinical counsellor who supports recreationalists and professionals in the outdoor community. “That is very invalidating to people who have their lives interwoven in the activity, an activity which may contribute very positively to their quality of life and be an important source of community.”
Werenka agrees. “After the second accident, I did go see a therapist, and they basically said, What are you doing out there? If you don't like this and this isn't good for you, then just don't go back,” he says. “They didn’t have the context or understanding.”
Even with a qualified therapist, Hueniken felt stuck after a year of one-on-one therapy. “I was still afraid of life,” she says.
That’s when McLeod suggested a new method: group-based peer support.
A group gathering during a 2-day Immersion event guided by principles of co-regulation, creative expression, and reconnection with self, others, and the land. Photo courtesy of Mountain Muskox
The first cohort consisted of Hueniken, Blanchard — who is open about his experience with PTSD — and Todd Gyun, a 30-year veteran ACMG Mountain Guide. All mountain athletes who shared similar losses. The sessions, led by McLeod, helped the members connect and work through their trauma in ways they had never managed to before.
“It was only when I started going to a facilitated group that things changed for me,” Hueniken says.
The methodology, termed “Trauma Informed Peer Support,” became the basis of a non-profit that Hueniken, McLeod, Blanchard, Gyun, and Kevin Hjertaas founded: Mountain Muskox. Werenka soon joined the first cohort and Badger became part of the organization a few years later.
A New Therapy for Mountain-Based Trauma
When a threat looms in their arctic habitat, a herd of mountain muskox will engage in a protective strategy, forming a defensive circle that guards the most vulnerable in the center. The animal’s self-protective instinct inspired Hueniken and co. to name their organization after them. Mountain Muskox, which partners with the Alpine Club of Canada, provides professionally facilitated peer support for individuals who have been impacted by loss or trauma in the mountains.
You might think this protective response, forming a phalanx around those in need, occurs naturally within the close-knit climbing community, too. But it’s not always the case, according to Hueniken.
“In a mountain town, when you’ve had a mountain accident, often people want to know what happened — they want to learn from it, analyze it, and feel they are better equipped to avoid the same fate during their time in the mountains," she says. "This is natural, but it often leads to judgement — when hindsight is so clear — and this is very difficult for those who lived through it and had to make those decisions."
Photo courtesy of Mountain Muskox
The Mountain Muskox Circles, in contrast, offer a sheltered space for the members to share and support each other. The organization has worked with over 200 people so far, and by all measures, it’s working.
“It was the first time I felt I could be myself again,” says Hueniken. “I went from someone who couldn’t really exist in the world to someone who could look people in the eye once more, and who felt emotions other than just shame.”
The Mountain Muskox Difference
Feelings of isolation often result from experiencing or being adjacent to a tragedy in the mountains. To counteract this, Mountain Muskox designs their Circles around helping people feel linked and supported.
“We benefit by connecting in groups where we feel a sense of belonging,” says Badger. “For one, it helps support our own nervous system to downregulate; it can help us come out of our survival responses. Having connection with human beings who have shared experience is one way that helps reduce our perception of threat in our environment, which can often be heightened after a traumatic exposure.”
Facilitation is another important element of the therapy. The facilitator establishes and enforces ground rules for communication and brings topics to the session that help participants learn something new, practice a skill, or have a discussion that might not arise without the direction of a professional.
“Having something facilitated means I can more easily 'show up,’” Huenkien says. “Part of me showing up is being there for others, as much as it is for me. Knowing there is someone overseeing everyone’s wellbeing and their regulation helps participants to be present for the community sharing.”
While facilitation provides the framework for the session, it is the interaction between participants where healing takes place.
“Human connection is everything, and when you can be a part of a connection with someone, whether it’s just listening to their story and feeling for them, or sharing your story and knowing they’re relating to it, that’s very, very powerful,” says Hueniken.
A group of Mountain Muskox team members moving the Memorial bench up to the viewpoint overlooking the Three Sisters above Canmore, BC. The bench was built with the intent of sharing both the beauty of the mountains and the memory of loved ones as a community. Photo by Pete Hoang
That intersection has an unexpected impact. “As people experience their own healing, their own broadening of perspective, their own understanding of themselves and of the human experience, it's quite often that instead of wanting to be done with Mountain Muskox, participants want to give back,” shares Badger.
”I think maybe you start to feel like you have to kind of be strong for others. To help people through those times because I know how hard it was and I know exactly where they're coming from,” says Werenka.
It Takes a Community to Heal
Several years after the accident, Hueniken is back to guiding and climbing hard. She’s still learning how to navigate her relationship to the uncontrollable and how it affects her body and mind. “I went 40-odd years without listening to stress. Now I know where to feel it in my body, and it makes me more aware that I am, which lets me try to diffuse it.”
These days, she makes decisions based on how much stress she can handle — for example, she can no longer do many alpine days in a row. “I used to before, but now I can’t,” she says.
The connection between stress, our emotions, and physical well-being is underappreciated in mountain sports, especially when it comes to trauma. For guides and high-end athletes who tend to be intrinsically independent and self-reliant, the tendency to try and deal with trauma by themselves comes naturally, but can also be counterproductive.
That’s changing though. Organizations like Mountain Muskox and the American Alpine Club’s Climbing Grief Fund are showing that the impact of mountain incidents does not have to be carried alone.
Group connection has helped Hueniken get back to the mountains in ways that feel right for her now, and she’s learning to be okay with the process of rediscovering her relationship to the spaces that once gave her great confidence and joy. Hueniken hopes that the conversation around mountain accidents can continue to evolve and that the mountain community can circle up for each other during the highs, and especially the lows.
(Headshot of Sarah by John Price)
This article was published in partnership with
If You’ve Experienced Mountain Trauma or Know Someone Who Has
If you have experienced trauma: Acknowledge it, recognize it, accept it, and be patient with it. I get it, your happy place is now an environment that provides fear or anxiety. There’s no need to rush it. But, when you do get back to the mountains, take it easy. Maybe hopping back into 5.11 in the alpine isn’t the way to go, try toproping 5.fun at your crag first. Ease into it.
If you want to help someone who has experienced trauma: Remember the Three Hs: when someone is telling you something, ask yourself whether what they really need is Help, to be Heard, or maybe they need a Hug. We often assume someone needs help, but maybe they actually require a different kind of support. Lastly, be mindful of how easy it is for someone to feel judged in their decision-making.
Additional Information About Mountain Muskox
Monthly peer circles are hosted in Bow Valley, the Sea to Sky and Columbia Valley, and Kootenays. If you’d like to attend, you can learn more about the Circles here. If you’d like to support the organization, you can donate here. If you’d like to bring a Circle to your region, contact mountainmuskox@gmail.com.
