Death, he knew, was a few seconds away.

“So I prayed,” he said last week, “and I fought like hell.”

Gleim’s extraordinary struggle for survival last month seems surreal to the 24-year-old Puyallup native and Iraq war veteran.

A friend, Luke Hoffman, and Gleim were enjoying a day of backcountry skiing March 9 in Chugach State Park near Eagle River, Alaska, when they were caught in a massive avalanche one mile long and 30 to 40 feet deep.

The avalanche didn’t give Gleim much of a chance to react. He witnessed the snow beginning to slide several feet downslope from his skis. He screamed, “Avalanche!” before it swallowed him.

The force knocked away his skis, poles and gloves. As long as the avalanche was moving, he knew he had a chance to survive.

“Once it stops,” he said, “it becomes like concrete. After 15 minutes, there’s a 50-50 chance you’ll live. After an hour, it’s a body search.”

Gleim, a staff sergeant and Arabic linguist with the 4th Brigade, 25th Infantry Division at Fort Richardson near Anchorage, didn’t panic once he realized he was in a slide. For that he credits mountain-survival courses and Army training, which required him to make quick decisions in shifting and dangerous scenarios.

The training also forced him to be realistic. The snow was crushing his body. It was suffocating him. He knew he was likely living his last minutes.

Gleim prayed, and he made swimming motions toward the surface.

After what he estimates was 45 seconds, his head popped out of the snow. He rode the avalanche in what he calls an “armchair position”: His head and arms were above the slide, but he couldn’t get much else out. With the avalanche still moving, he vomited the snow out of his throat and esophagus and took his first breath. The air stung.

The avalanche continued for about another 30 seconds. He dug himself out and took a quick survey of his location. The avalanche moved him about 2,500 feet away from where it hit him. Gleim, a nondenominational Christian, offered a prayer of thanks and a prayer of hope that Hoffman would survive.

Both were wearing locator beacons, and Gleim switched his setting from transmit to receive. He screamed his friend’s name – his throat burned each time – and searched for him. Hoffman, farther up the mountain, also was searching for his friend.

The two met up a few minutes later. Hoffman had managed to escape being swallowed by the snow. They walked to the nearest house, where the couple who lived there served them hot chocolate and snacks.

Gleim hasn’t returned to backcountry skiing, but not because of the avalanche.

“I just haven’t purchased any new gear yet,” he said. “It’s kind of hard to justify, given that my stuff is still under some snow. But I’ll be back.”

Scott Fontaine: 253-320-4758

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