The Sierra Nevada mountains, often a playground for adventure seekers, turned deadly on February 17, 2026, when a massive avalanche roared through the Castle Peak area near Lake Tahoe, claiming lives in one of California’s most catastrophic backcountry disasters in decades. Among the victims was Kate Vitt, a devoted mother of two young boys, a former high-level executive in the media industry, and a cherished member of her Marin County community. At the heart of this heartbreaking story lies not just statistics of lossโeight confirmed dead, one presumed deceased, six survivorsโbut the profound human impact: families shattered, children grieving, and a tight-knit group of friends whose shared love for the outdoors ended in unimaginable sorrow. Vitt’s story, like those of her companions, reminds us how fragile life can be when pursuing passion in nature’s unforgiving embrace.
Kate Vitt lived in Greenbrae, a serene corner of Marin County just north of San Francisco, with her husband Geoff and their two elementary-school-aged sons. Neighbors described her as the epitome of warmth and dedicationโa vibrant woman who walked her boys to school each morning, greeted everyone with a genuine smile, and infused everyday moments with joy. “She was a good mom,” one neighbor, Cynthia Leibson, told local media, her voice heavy with grief. “Always friendly, always there for her kids.” Another recalled holiday cards from the Vitt family, filled with cheerful updates and photos that captured their happy, active life. In the Kentfield School District, where her sons attended, an email from the superintendent circulated swiftly after the tragedy: the boys were “safe and with their father, Geoff, as they navigate this profound loss.” The message called the family “a cherished part of our community,” underscoring how deeply Vitt was woven into the fabric of her neighborhood.
Professionally, Vitt had built an impressive career in the evolving world of digital media and audio entertainment. She served as Vice President of Product Operations and Customer Success at SiriusXM until 2025, a role that demanded sharp strategic thinking, leadership, and a deep understanding of consumer experiences in a competitive streaming landscape. Before that, she held positions at Pandora, the pioneering music streaming service, where she contributed to innovations that shaped how millions discovered and enjoyed music. Colleagues remembered her as collaborative, insightful, and passionate about bridging technology with human connectionโqualities that mirrored her approach to life off the clock. Though she had stepped away from her corporate role the previous year, her professional drive never overshadowed her family priorities; she balanced boardroom responsibilities with school events, playdates, and weekend adventures.
Vitt’s love for the outdoors ran deep, particularly her passion for skiing. She was part of a close circle of womenโexperienced, skilled backcountry enthusiastsโwho had bonded over years of shared trips. These weren’t casual outings; they were meticulously planned escapes that celebrated friendship, resilience, and the thrill of untouched powder. The group, many of whom were mothers juggling demanding lives, found solace and exhilaration in the mountains. “They were passionate, skilled skiers who cherished time together in the mountains,” their families stated collectively through a spokesperson. The February trip to the Frog Lake backcountry huts was inspired in part by vacations the women’s husbands had taken, a tradition they adopted to create their own memories amid the Sierra’s rugged beauty.
The expedition began on Sunday, February 15, 2026, with the 15-person groupโ11 clients and four professional guides from the respected Blackbird Mountain Guidesโtrekking into the remote terrain near Donner Pass. They carried full avalanche safety equipment: beacons, probes, shovels, and the knowledge that came from years in the backcountry. The Frog Lake huts, rustic cabins owned by the Truckee Donner Land Trust, offered a base for two nights of exploration in some of North Lake Tahoe’s premier backcountry zones. But as a powerful winter storm intensified, dumping feet of fresh, wind-loaded snow atop unstable layers, conditions deteriorated rapidly.
On Tuesday morning, February 17, around 11:30 a.m., as the group made their way back toward the trailhead, disaster struck. A slab avalancheโdescribed as the size of a football fieldโreleased with terrifying force, sweeping the skiers into a chaotic tumble of snow, ice, and debris. The roar drowned out cries; visibility vanished in the blizzard’s whiteout. Survivors later recounted the suffocating darkness, the desperate search for air pockets, and the frantic efforts to locate one another with beacons. Rescue teams from Tahoe Nordic Search and Rescue, Placer County Sheriff’s Office, and other agencies battled gale-force winds and near-zero visibility to reach the site. It took hours to extract the six survivorsโfour men and two women, ranging in ages 30 to 55โwhile the search for the others shifted to recovery amid ongoing storms.
Kate Vitt was among the eight confirmed deceased, her body recovered in the grueling days that followed. One skier remained missing, presumed lost to the mountain. The tragedy’s scale made it California’s deadliest avalanche in modern history, eclipsing previous events in both loss of life and emotional toll. Three of the professional guides perished, highlighting the risks even experts face when nature unleashes its fury.
Vitt’s companions in death included a remarkable group of women whose stories intertwined with hers. Carrie Atkin hailed from the Truckee-Tahoe region, deeply rooted in the local mountain culture. Danielle Keatley and Kate Morse called Marin County home, their lives centered on family, community, and outdoor pursuits. Most poignantly, sisters Caroline Sekar, 45, of San Francisco, and Liz Clabaugh, 52, of Boise, Idaho, perished together. Their brother, McAlister Clabaugh, shared his devastation with The New York Times: “These are two of the best people Iโve ever known. They were incredible sisters, mothers, wives and friends. And the idea that they are both gone is, I donโt even know how to put it into words.” Caroline’s husband, Kiren Sekar, added a tender reflection: “Caroline spent her final days doing what she loved best, with the people who loved her most, in her favorite place. She was with me, her children and our puppy, and then on one last adventure with her sister and close friends, who she now rests with.”
The connections ran even deeper. Several victims had ties to Sugar Bowl Academy, a private ski-focused school near the incident site. Though the trip wasn’t affiliated with the academy, the overlap amplified the grief within its tight community. The school’s statement captured the collective anguish: “This tragedy has affected each and every one of us… We will continue to be there in the months and years ahead for the families that have lost loved ones.” Marin County’s supervisors echoed the shock: “Everybody knows everybody. Itโs gut-wrenching because so many people knew these moms.”
As recovery efforts persistedโdelayed by relentless weatherโtributes poured in. Neighbors in Greenbrae held vigil, sharing memories of Vitt’s kindness and her boys’ laughter echoing through the streets. School communities rallied around grieving families, offering counseling and support. Broader conversations emerged about backcountry safety: the importance of avalanche education, group decision-making, and respecting forecasts even when passion calls. Blackbird Mountain Guides expressed profound sorrow, noting their team’s constant monitoring of conditions and commitment to safety.
In the wake of such loss, Vitt’s legacy shines through the pain. She was more than a victim; she was a woman who lived intentionallyโexcelling in her career, nurturing her family, embracing adventure with fearless joy. Her final days embodied what she cherished: connection, nature, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. For her sons, husband, and all who loved her, the mountains will forever hold both beauty and sorrow.
This tragedy compels reflection on life’s precarious balance. It honors the victims by urging greater vigilance in the backcountry and deeper appreciation for every shared moment. Kate Vitt, Caroline Sekar, Liz Clabaugh, and their friends didn’t just ski the Sierraโthey lived fully within it. Their stories endure as reminders to hold loved ones close, pursue passions bravely, and never take tomorrow for granted. In the quiet aftermath, as snow continues to fall, their spirits linger on the slopes they loved, whispering of lives well-lived amid the wild.
