Shawn Dougan and Brittany Hague sat on their snowmobile and inhaled the beauty.
A bright blue sky framing the mountain peaks. A fresh coat of snow so thick it would cover a man's thigh - a bounty of powder even in Revelstoke, B.C. where snow falls in such abundance that people come from across the planet to ski and ride its slopes.
As the Calgary couple watched from a ridge alongside a 300-metre-high bowl called "Turbo" for its status as a high octane playground, one snowmobile raced up its flank and over the top.
Below, hundreds of people had gathered in the sunshine in the cradle of the bowl for an annual event to watch some of the world's best riders perform feats like this, which only the best riders with the best equipment could pull off.
People had come from Washington, Idaho, Montana, Alberta, Ontario and New Brunswick.
Most were back country snowmobilers, outfitted with proper avalanche gear and sitting astride hand-built machines worth up to $55,000 and so powerful they could drive 10 metres up a 90-degree slope.
Others were spectators, without the proper gear. They knew the avalanche risk; some of them had spent hours waiting on the highway on their drive in while provincial officials detonated avalanches to make the highway safe.
But this was a marquee attraction in the snowmobile world, and most didn't want to miss it.
As they watched, a second snowmobile rode up, but couldn't quite make it to the top. It reversed course and began back down the bowl. Suddenly, the snow beneath him began to give way.
"Everyone just stood there watching for a second. It was just disbelief, you watch it coming and you just watch it," said Ms. Hague.
"Just the noise, the rumbling, the screaming too. It was just unbelievable, really. It was mayhem. Once people started running, you had nowhere to go. You can't go anywhere. You're on the mountain and you're going to get caught in it somehow."
It came too fast for Mr. Dougan and Ms. Hague to escape. Even though they were in relative safety on a tree-covered ridge, the wall of snow roared toward them.
"Next thing you know, you can't see anything because you're engulfed," said Mr. Dougan. "You don't know what's going to happen."
Spectators watching from farther away saw a pressure wave in front of the avalanche stir up the powder into a cloud 200 metres high. It looked to them like a bomb had exploded. When it settled, they saw a debris path 500 metres long and 200 metres wide.
Bits of destroyed snowmobiles stuck out from the snow. The luckiest of survivors were able to walk away. Mr. Dougan and Ms. Hague were largely protected by their location.
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But many others were buried.
A mad effort was launched to find them. Beacons were activated, and people marched in rows along the avalanche surface, probing beneath the surface for bodies. They found some, at least a dozen, alive. Two were dead. The fate of others was unknown. The snow was piled up 10 metres deep in some places. Avalanche probes only reached a third that deep.
One body was discovered nearly three metres below the surface. It had been there 30 minutes before it was found.
The man who helped discover that body was so shaken that a day later he was contemplating his future in snow sports.
"I think I'm going to sell the sled. I think I'm done," he said. "It was horrific. Everyone's in shock right now. Total shock."