A tragic and preventable accident unfolded on the snow-covered slopes of Japan’s Tsugaike Mountain Resort in late January 2026, claiming the life of 22-year-old Australian snowboarder Brooke Day. What began as an exhilarating day on the powder turned into a nightmare in mere seconds when her backpack became entangled in a chairlift mechanism, leading to a horrifying sequence of events that ended in her death. This freak incident has sent shockwaves through the global snowsports community, raising urgent questions about everyday safety habits that many riders take for granted.

Brooke Day, a vibrant young woman from Queensland, Australia, had embarked on what was supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime. She was in Japan on a working holiday visa, embracing the country’s world-class snow conditions while working as a receptionist at a physiotherapy clinic in the Hakuba Valley area. Friends and colleagues described her as a warm, outgoing “people person” who loved connecting with others, making patients feel welcomed and seen during her shifts. Snowboarding had been a passion since she was 11 years old, and this marked her fourth extended season chasing winter in Japan. She was experienced, safety-conscious, and often rode with friends, always prioritizing preparation for the mountains.

The accident occurred on Friday, January 30, 2026, at approximately 9 a.m. local time. Brooke was riding the Tsuga No.2 Pair Lift—a standard two-person chair—at Tsugaike Mountain Resort in Otari, Nagano Prefecture, part of the renowned Hakuba Valley. This area draws thousands of international visitors each season for its deep powder, expansive terrain, and reliable snowfall. As the chair approached the unloading station at the top, Brooke prepared to disembark, a routine maneuver countless riders perform without incident every day.

Tragically, the waist buckle on her backpack—specifically an unfastened buckle at the end of the waist belt—snagged on part of the lift chair or its buckling mechanism. Her chest strap remained securely fastened across her body, preventing the backpack from simply detaching. As she attempted to step off, the entanglement held firm. The lift continued moving briefly before resort staff hit the emergency stop button, but by then, Brooke was being dragged along the snow behind the chair. Reports indicate she was pulled across the ground and then suspended mid-air, dangling helplessly as the mechanics refused to release her.

The physical trauma was catastrophic. Dragged through icy, uneven snow at speed, she sustained severe injuries that triggered cardiac arrest almost immediately. Staff and bystanders rushed to her aid, performing CPR while emergency services were called. An ambulance transported her to a nearby hospital, but despite heroic efforts, she was pronounced dead shortly after arrival on Sunday, February 1. Her family, who had rushed to Japan upon hearing the news, were by her side in her final moments.

The backpack in question was no ordinary daypack. According to heartbreaking statements from Brooke’s family, it was an avalanche rescue backpack—a specialized piece of safety equipment designed to protect backcountry riders. These packs typically include inflatable airbags that deploy via a trigger handle to keep a person afloat in an avalanche, along with shovels, probes, and other rescue tools. Brooke carried it “to keep herself and friends safe,” a poignant irony that underscores how a tool meant for protection became the instrument of her demise.

The Tsugaike Gondola Lift Co., which operates the resort’s lifts, issued a formal apology and confirmed the details in a statement from CEO Kubo Tsuneo. They explained that the unfastened waist buckle hooked onto the chair, and because the chest strap was buckled, the pack stayed attached to her body, dragging her after she attempted to exit. The company pledged a full investigation into the incident and vowed to support the family in any way possible. Nagano Omachi Police also confirmed the cardiac arrest as the immediate cause of death, classifying it as a tragic accident rather than negligence at this stage.

This heartbreaking event has ignited widespread discussion about chairlift safety protocols and rider behavior. Chairlifts are engineered with safety in mind—emergency stops, slow zones at unload points, and clear signage—but human factors often play the decisive role in accidents. Backpacks, especially those with dangling straps, buckles, or loose ends, pose a known hazard. Many lift operators and instructors worldwide advise riders to remove backpacks entirely during the ride or hold them on their lap, particularly on fixed-grip chairs where unloading requires precise timing.

In Brooke’s case, the avalanche rescue pack’s design—featuring multiple straps, a waist belt for stability during deployment, and robust buckles—may have contributed to the snag. While these packs save lives in backcountry scenarios (studies show airbag systems reduce avalanche mortality by up to 50-60% in some conditions), they introduce additional complexity on groomed resort terrain. The unfastened waist belt, intended for quick access or comfort, became the fatal point of failure.

This tragedy is not isolated in recent memory. Ski resorts worldwide have seen a troubling uptick in lift-related incidents. Just weeks earlier, in January 2025, a catastrophic failure at Spain’s Astún ski resort saw a pulley system malfunction, causing the cable to lose tension and sending chairs plummeting from 15 meters high. Two young women ended up in intensive care, with dozens more injured as around 80 skiers dangled precariously; emergency responders deployed helicopters, firefighters, and over 50 ambulances in a massive rescue operation.

Another chilling case occurred in Montenegro at the Savin Kuk resort, where a German tourist died after a chair suddenly slid backward 230 feet, colliding with the one behind it. His wife was left stranded for hours in the damaged seat. These events highlight vulnerabilities in aging infrastructure, mechanical wear, and the sheer forces involved in transporting hundreds of people up mountains daily.

Yet Brooke’s accident stands apart as a “freak” entanglement rather than systemic failure. It serves as a stark reminder that personal gear choices can turn routine moments deadly. Forums like Reddit’s snowboarding communities have exploded with discussions: riders sharing near-misses with packs catching on seats, debating whether chest straps should ever be worn on lifts, and calling for better education on “lift etiquette.” One experienced lift operator commented online: “I see dangerous moments every single day. Take your backpack off and ride with it on your lap.”

In the aftermath, tributes poured in for Brooke. Friends launched a GoFundMe to support her family with repatriation costs and other expenses, describing her as an avid, passionate snowboarder who lived for the mountains. Her family released a statement expressing profound grief while highlighting the irony: “Tragically, it was the Avalanche Rescue backpack that got caught on the ski lift.” Colleagues at the physio clinic remembered her infectious smile and dedication. Australian authorities, through the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, offered consular assistance and extended deepest condolences.

Tsugaike Mountain Resort, part of the Hakuba Valley’s premier destinations, has long been celebrated for its family-friendly slopes and stunning views of the Japanese Alps. Powder days here can deliver thigh-deep runs, and the area attracts adventure-seekers from Australia, Europe, and beyond. Ironically, Brooke’s love for Japan’s snow culture—its efficient lifts, polite crowds, and endless terrain—drew her back year after year.

This incident forces the industry to confront uncomfortable truths. Resorts must reinforce messaging about gear management: unbuckle waist belts, remove packs if possible, keep loose items secured. Manufacturers of avalanche airbags could explore designs with minimized snag risks for lift use. Riders themselves bear responsibility too—double-checking straps, practicing safe unloading, and never assuming “it won’t happen to me.”

Brooke Day’s story is a devastating loss of a young life full of promise. She was not just a statistic; she was a daughter, friend, colleague, and passionate athlete who died doing what she loved. Her death underscores a brutal reality: even the most prepared can fall victim to split-second misfortune. As the snow continues to fall and lifts keep turning, may her memory prompt greater vigilance so no other family endures this unimaginable pain.

In the quiet moments after tragedy, questions linger. Could a simple adjustment—loosening the chest strap during unloading or removing the pack—have changed everything? The answers may emerge from the ongoing probe, but for now, the mountains stand silent witness to a life cut short.