A Trail Lost

There one minute (sort of) and gone the next. It happens a lot. And the guidebook they were using has only hand-drawn, cartoony maps that sure don't lend themselves to good navigation. It's a popular guide book by a well-known local figure, but all it's really useful for is deciding WHERE to hike. From there, a topo map along with a Flagstaff or Sedona trails map is what you need. And apparently the Harding Trail, our subjects' hike for the day that turned into a long night, is very difficult to follow on the rim, with sporadic and confusing cairns and what I'm told is barely visible, if not altogether invisible trail, in some places.

But the two lost ladies were better prepared than some. They had water and snacks. They had a light source (although I think they had just one between the two of them). They had the means to start a campfire and the ability to make and receive phone calls with their charged up cell phone. They also stayed put until we found them. Then we put out their campfire with our extra water, set the then-chilly hikers up with some extra layers of clothing from our "warm-up bag," and walked them back to the SAR vehicles. From there, they were given a ride back around to the campground below in Oak Creek Canyon, where their vehicle was parked.

And what a great turnout we had for the team! I didn't actually count, but I believe we had at least sixteen people show up for this Monday night search. We had two teams of two on ATV's, driving forest service roads and rough two-tracks. We had teams in SUV's, also searching roads (the lost hikers had reported they were on a road, though it turned out to be a no longer used, barely discernible road), and four of us were designated as a hiking team.

After we four hikers also searched by vehicle for a while, we parked the truck and headed cross-country towards the trail along the rim of Oak Creek Canyon, calling and blowing whistles as we went along. Just as we thought we heard a distant shout, Ranger (the DPS helicopter) showed up, spotted the subjects' campfire and briefly hovered over them.

We searchers headed in the general direction the helicopter had hovered, less than a half-mile from our location. As we continued to hike, I entered into my GPS the coordinates Ranger had given to Incident Command and confirmed our distance and direction to the subjects, whose responses to our calls were growing louder. Within minutes, we arrived to find two relieved ladies in good shape, standing close to their warming fire.

I was home at 1:30 A.M.

Now it's off for a few days to the Escalante area in Utah to do some hiking. Hopefully, my SAR friend and I will get one of the daily permits to hike The Wave. I've heard it's awesome.

Daylight Makes All The Difference

In the dark, something ... or someone ... 150 feet away may as well be 150 miles away if you don't choose a path to the exact location or come close enough and happen to shine your light in the right direction. That is, if that someone can't respond.

It's hard not to beat yourself up over it--to keep rehashing it in your mind. Or, I should say, in my mind.  I thought about suggesting to my teammate (my husband in this case) that he and I circle through the woods around the ATV while we waited for our third field team member to join us. Why didn't I? Because I thought that had already been done? Maybe.

But even if we had, that doesn't necessarily mean we would have seen him then, either. We wouldn't have gone very far in--just enough to try cutting for sign--so we probably wouldn't have walked right to that spot.   And even ten feet away, in the lights of our headlamps, it was difficult to make out shapes on that dark night. Is that a stump or a log? A bush or a big rock? A man? So many dark shapes could have been a man. 

We did search for tracks while we waited, and there were many on the dirt road around the ATV. We looked at the deputies' boots and ruled out those two sets of prints. There was a third set of prints that were different. Maybe, we thought. But then we looked at a family member's shoes. No, that third set of tracks were his. We looked up and down the road, which had been driven on heavily since the ATV was found. We saw no other footprints or partials there, so we looked at the ground on either side of the road near the quad. It's really difficult to find tracks on pine needles. Is that animal or human? Is that even a depression at all? There are so many deer and elk in those woods.

Then our teammate arrived and we began our assignment.

We'd been so close--many of us that night--and then searched so far. I didn't think he'd walk all that far, though, given what we'd been told.

But you just can't know for sure. If he were conscious and anywhere near the quad (the last known point or LKP), he'd have seen the campfire and the lights of our vehicles. Or he'd have heard us calling or even just talking. In fact, the air was so clear, cold and still that night, field teams could hear each other's voices--not even a shout--maybe a half-mile away. And we did shout and blow our whistles as we searched. After the helicopter passed over, we shouted some more. And we looked. We shined our lights this way and that and walked closer to any "suspicious" shapes. There were many.

You want to believe the one you're searching for can hear you if you get close enough. You want to believe they can respond, but you look as hard as you can in case they can't. We covered a lot of ground that night. Just not the right piece of ground.

At about 4am, we rested back at our SAR vehicles, near the LKP. When it was light, we'd resume the search.

But we didn't have to. As soon as the sun came up, one of our team members, standing near where the ATV had been left, looked into the woods and saw "something that didn't look right." He walked into the trees, closer to that something, and saw it was indeed a man.

At least he'd died doing something he loved. And he'd gotten his buck, which lay maybe ten feet in front of where he took his own last step.

One hundred fifty feet away might as well have been 150 miles that dark night, because he couldn't respond.

******

To this man's family and friends, my sincere condolences. I'm sorry this search didn't have a happy ending.

Congratulations To Our Coordinator And A 25-Year Veteran Of The Team

Recently, at both the Arizona State Search & Rescue Conference and last night's Coconino County Board of Supervisors Meeting here in Flagstaff, our Coordinator, Sergeant Aaron Dick, and volunteer Dennis Gill were both honored for their excellent work with the team. Aaron was awarded Arizona SAR Coordinator of the Year, and Dennis, who's been with the team for 25 years, was given the award for Arizona SAR Volunteer of the Year.

That's Aaron on the left (behind the lady in purple) and Dennis on the right.


Many of our team members showed up to support Aaron and Dennis, wearing our uniform shirts. Half the room was a sea of yellow.

And there's Beverly, sneaking in behind the Board of Supervisors to take pictures as Sheriff Bill Pribil presents Aaron with his plaque.

I know the whole team was proud of our leader and of Dennis's years of volunteer service. They're both so great at what they do and totally deserve the recognition. Congratulations, guys!

And as far as recent call-outs go...

On Monday morning, the team began a search in the area of Sycamore Canyon for two overdue hikers, who'd intended to go for a dayhike on Saturday. The team had fanned out to first search for their Jeep, because the reporting party--the wife of one of the hikers--was unsure of their exact destination. The plan was that, once the vehicle was located, that team would begin a hasty search on foot.  But the two subjects were able to make a cell-phone call to the reporting party before we found their Jeep. They emerged uninjured from the canyon a short time later, having been lost for 48 hours without cell service. See: Overdue Hikers Emerge Unscathed from the Arizona Daily Sun.

And this morning, there was a call regarding two overdue hunters, but they too showed up as SAR was en route.

(On a side note: if you're receiving these blog posts by email and the photos are messed up ... sorry, I'm trying to figure out why that is. In Yahoo! mail at least, the photos are overlapping the text for some reason. For now, I guess you'd just have to click on the title to read the post and view the photos on the blog itself, until I can come up with a fix.)

Basic SAR Academy 2009--The Final Exam

Twenty-four new members have now been added to our General SAR team following yesterday's "final exam," a mock search and rescue in the Walnut Canyon area in Flagstaff. 

The call-out came at about 10:30am on Saturday, when students and experienced team leaders and assistants responded to the SAR building, as they would for a real call-out.

Once everyone was assembled and the gear loaded, our Captain (pictured here) made sure everyone was accounted for. We were then briefed by our Coordinator and formed into field teams before heading to the staging area.

Our Coordinator, who would be acting as IC (Incident Command) along with our Captain, had no idea where the two lost subjects were located. Only the subjects (volunteers from our team) and one other member knew their location. 

When we arrived at the staging area at the subjects' PLS (Point Last Seen), we team leaders were given our assignments and then relayed that information to our field team members. Team leaders were all experienced SAR members, whose job it was to answer questions if asked and make suggestions if necessary to "keep the ball in play." But it was up to the new folks to work together and figure things out, while navigating and using the radio to communicate with IC and with other teams.

In this photo, my team hikes part of the Arizona Trail, calling the subjects' names, blowing whistles and interviewing passing hikers, horseback riders and mountain bikers. They also looked for boot tracks going off the main trail.

Eventually, another field team located the reporting party--one of the two missing hikers--who'd left his injured companion and climbed up out of the canyon to get a cell phone signal to call for help. Since the initial call, his cell phone battery had apparently died, preventing any further communication. And he'd been lost, he'd said, at the time he called.

This one subject, while still confused about where he was, was able to give some details which helped the team locate the second subject at the bottom of the canyon. A (real) witness description from a child hiking with her parents also helped the team find the injured hiker.

Once the second subject was located, other field teams converged at that location, including the "evac team" with the litter and other medical equipment.

Then, the new members splinted the patient's (fake) broken ankle and were shown how to package her in the litter. Everyone had a chance to help carry the patient out.

Kay was such a good sport! She and Jerry--the other lost subject--had to sit around a long time before they were found. At least it was a warmer than usual Fall day.

Despite some confusion with radio communication--which is to be expected with so many field teams and new members--things went really well.

I wish we always had this many people to carry a litter!

We finished up the mission and were back at the SAR building around 6:30pm.

Later that night, there was a real call-out at 8pm. That one (for an injured hiker on Mt. Agassiz) was canceled after about five minutes, when the hiker made it to the parking lot and refused further assistance. But there was another call at 4:00 this morning. That call was also canceled, but not before about fifteen volunteers, both new and not, responded to the SAR building and loaded gear.

Hopefully, the turn-out will continue to be that good.

Are They Really Missing?

That's the question I couldn't help but wonder about all day. I tried not to think about it, though, and focus instead on what we were doing--searching. But the information we had was sketchy, and the circumstances were such that the two people we were looking for could have been anywhere.

And that's what it's like with Search and Rescue sometimes. There's not always a call for help by a lost subject on a cell phone or an empty vehicle sitting at a trailhead.  Sometimes, a person is reported overdue and the exact destination is unknown. So our leaders go with the information they do have, and we volunteers get our assignments and search the most likely areas. Sometimes, those search areas can be quite large and change as more information becomes available.

In this case, we were looking for a couple in their 70s--one of whom uses oxygen--who'd apparently gone to cut firewood but hadn't returned home the night before, so said a concerned neighbor. And being a concerned neighbor is a good thing, I'd say. Many times, concern for someone else's well-being or their home saves the day, so it's better to be safe than sorry and report those concerns. Imagine not doing so and then regretting it when things turn out badly.

So it didn't bother me when, after hours of driving around in the Polaris Ranger, following vehicle tracks here, there and anywhere they went within our large search area, and my teammates doing the same on ATVs and the DPS helicopter searching from above, we found out that the couple was just fine and had never been "missing" at all. They'd simply been ... well, somewhere else.

Okay, so maybe I rolled my eyes and laughed a little at the situation, as I tried to dust myself and my backpack off and pick the dirt out of my teeth, but I was happy that things had ended well and that some of the other scenarios that had been passing through my mind all day hadn't come true.

Besides, I learned some new tracking skills while we were out there. My teammate who was with me on the Polaris had been with the Border Patrol for 27 years, so this experienced tracker could tell the type of vehicle at a glance, the direction of travel, and the age of the tracks by touching his finger to the dirt and by the color. And he took the time to show me what he was doing. So, thank you, Steve, for teaching me some new stuff!

Tracks! I See Tracks!

Okay, I didn't exactly shout about it. But I was pretty excited that my two little eyeballs, with the help of dust-covered glasses, a $5 flashlight and another tracking class this past weekend, were able to pick out a partial print amongst pine needles on the dirt two-track. Yippee! (But I didn't shout that either.)

It had to be them--the family of five we were looking for last night. I mean, how many other people would have been wandering around on those backwoods roads? As my teammate and I continued to follow the prints and impressions, we could see that they were on top of all the tire tracks, and they were definitely fresh. So we'd track for a bit, then walk back and retrieve our ATV's and move them up, then return to tracking. Finally, we heard a faint response to my teammate's shout. Definitely a chorus of voices, both male and female, somewhere off in the trees.

This was one of those times when a short walk--twenty minutes had been the plan, they later told us--turned into a long, chilly night. I'm sure it must have been an added frustration for the family, knowing there were flashlights and warm clothing back in their vehicle as they wandered around in the dark, trying to find their way out. They did have a cell phone, though, and luckily had reception too, so they were able to call for assistance.

So, this is yet another instance that makes me NOT feel silly about carrying my 24-hour pack with me all the time, even when I walk my dog in the woods I know so well around our house, and recommending that others do the same. A 24-hour pack doesn't have to weigh very much--mine is often around 12 pounds, including at least two liters of water--but it can literally save your life. Or at least make it more tolerable while you wait for help.

Okay, I'll stop preaching ... so I can start complaining. Have I mentioned lately that I really dislike ATV's? I'm talking about driving them. I swear, they make me more nervous than rappelling off an 80-foot cliff (which makes me pretty darn nervous). Not only do I end up eating a lot of dirt and wearing a layer of dust, because I'm always behind a teammate's quad because I'm such a slow driver, but I always feel like I'm going to tip over whenever the road is anything but flat. Those deeply rutted, rocky two tracks really challenge my limited ATV skills, and I'm much too chicken to load or unload a quad from the trailer. Besides, I think that being nervous can only lead to problems when it comes to those heavy beasts, so better I don't try is how I see it. 

I'm always a little bummed when I get assigned to an ATV rather than to hike. For some reason, though, the UTV--the Polaris Ranger--doesn't bother me. At least, not where I've driven it so far, which includes up and down the switchbacks at the Snowbowl ski area.

Anyhow, I'm off to the monthly technical rescue team meeting tonight. These meetings are followed by a day-long field training on the weekend. I'm not sure what we'll be learning and practicing this time, but I thought I heard something about passing knots in raising and lowering systems. We shall seeee.....

SAR City

I'm back. And, hopefully, I'm now a better tracker after an additional 16 hours of instruction, this time at the SARCity conference in Barstow, California, where there were more than 50 classes offered on a wide range of topics and skills. This annual conference is organized and hosted by the all-volunteer Barstow Desert Rescue Squad in San Bernadino County.

I thought the 3-day event was well worth the trip, and, as always, I really enjoyed meeting people from other teams, especially the folks from Dolores, Colorado, K9 Search & Rescue, who came over to introduce themselves soon after I arrived as I sat alone by my tent. So thank you Shawn, Chuck, Randy, Vicki #1, Vicki #2, and Kimberly (and Jack!) for hanging out with me over the weekend. It was great to meet you and learn about your team. And it was nice meeting you too, Orange County guys. That's a spiffy Hummer you've got there.

Anyhow, as for that tracking class--which was excellent in many ways, and the lead instructor (retired Sergeant and SAR Coordinator, Darryl Heller) was top-notch--it's always interesting to learn the same skills from different people. I pick up new techniques and "tricks" and get at least a somewhat different perspective, which I think is really valuable. But it's definitely a challenge not to say, "Yes, but..." when an instructor tells you that what you learned from someone else is wrong ("No, you never do that," was the reply to a question I asked about a method of measuring stride that I'd been taught at the Heber, Arizona conference), or if that instructor has a very different way of doing something than you're used to.

Not that I'm the greatest tracker after just two years in SAR and five tracking classes, but it can also be tough to swallow your pride when someone talks to you like you have no experience at all. In my case, during one of the field sessions, I was used as an example of what NOT to do, though it was something my own team does when tracking, and I've learned it from others as well. I must admit, that really bugged me ... even though the field instructor came up to me after class to say it had been he who'd encouraged the other students in my group to do something that obliterated part of the track and that I hadn't actually done anything wrong. Well, phooey, I wish the other students had heard him say that.

Other than that, though ... I thought the class was great and would highly recommend it to anyone in Search and Rescue. And while that class took up the entire conference, I heard lots of good things about many of the other classes, too, some of which lasted an hour or two or four and others that also spanned the whole weekend.

If you'd like to read more about the conference and see my photos--I wish I'd taken more, but I was usually too busy with the class or yacking to remember to take pictures--I did a write-up about it here. The next (38th) SAR City conference will be in October, 2010.

A Search & Rescue Weekend

When I walked in the door early Sunday morning, Steve told me I smelled like smoke, but my nose didn't agree. Maybe I just got used to it overnight, as I sat at the road block for about twelve hours, the wind gusting from time to time, rocking the vehicle and toppling the barricades.

Search & Rescue had been called upon on Saturday to man the road blocks in Williams, Arizona, to keep folks out of an area of town that SAR had helped evacuate the night before, when a prescribed burn got out of hand and became a wildfire that, as of today (Monday), still threatens homes.

See: Williams Still in Danger from the Arizona Daily Sun.

In the photo above (taken late afternoon on Saturday), you can see the smoke ahead-left, as my teammates and I approach Williams, where we relieved the crew that had been there overnight.

On Sunday morning, after our group returned from Williams, I had just enough time to grab a shower, change clothes and go to the Man-Tracking class for the Basic SAR Academy. I could probably have skipped the morning classroom session and just gone to the field exercise later, when I was scheduled as an instructor, but I wasn't all that tired (yet), so I decided to sit in on the classroom part too.

Here, the whole group is briefed before the field session....

Then I took my group of three new trackers to their first print. They documented it as they'd been taught and then got started following the track....

It rained off and on, and the wind continued to gust, making the tracking challenging. Despite losing the track now and then, however, the group managed to pick it up again and follow it to the end.

Nice job, guys!

So, Saturday had been the GPS class, beginning at 8am in the classroom, and then we went out to practice in the woods in the afternoon. Below, Academy members and my co-instructor (front) were entering the next waypoint into their GPS's, which they then had to convert from Latitude-Longitude to UTM and plot the coordinate on their maps before navigating to that point....

It was at that time--around 3pm Saturday--when there was a call-out for a lost 15 year-old, so I'd left my group with the other instructor and quickly hiked back to the road, where another teammate scooped me up and we headed to the SAR building.

That mission was quickly concluded when some tracks were discovered and then the DPS helicopter spotted the girl, and we returned to the SAR building just before 5pm. Ten minutes later, I was off to Williams. So it had been all day Saturday in GPS class, then to the mission for the lost girl, then to Williams for the overnight road block, then to the tracking class on Sunday. And today, Monday, is a continuing evidence search. Whew! But I did get a good night's sleep last night, so I'm ready to search.

Oh, yeah, and I practiced rappelling last week, too, with a couple of my tech rescue teammates. I was nervous (as usual) going over the edge the first time through, but when I hiked back up and went for a second and third descent, my nerves calmed (as usual). We were using a conditional self-belay on a second line, which meant I didn't have a free hand to brace myself against the rock, like I usually had before. So that was a little different for me.

Here, you can see the brake rack in my right hand, while I tend the Prusik with my left. It was about a 30-foot cliff. Maybe not a lot ... but enough....

 

Random Stuff--Some SAR, Some Sorta

So, we haven't had what I'd consider a major SAR mission in a little while (though we've had some calls that were canceled before we got to the scene), but the team has been busy, especially with the annual Basic SAR Academy going on. It's a pretty large class--around 30 students this year--so quite a few of us existing members have been helping to teach.

Today was compass day, with the morning in the classroom and the afternoon in the field, where students plotted coordinates, obtained bearings and distances, and then navigated to a number of points using their compasses and by pacing and comparing the terrain to their topo maps.

I think most of the class is getting the hang of these navigation skills quite well. They've already been through the Personal Safety and Map classes. Next up is Basic GPS and then Tracking, followed by ATV training and, finally, a day-long field exercise: a mock search and rescue mission. Once all of that is complete, the new recruits will be added to the call-out list and will be able to respond to the real McCoys.

Anyhow, what else can I share?

Well, this past Wednesday morning, a friend of mine on the team called around 11:00 and asked, "Are you on  your way?"

"Huh?" I said. "On my way to what?"

"The call-out," she replied. "For the lost hiker off 180."

I didn't get any call. No phone call, no email. Strange.

So I hung up, dialed the SAR line and said, "This is Deb Lauman. I did NOT get a call, and I did NOT get an email, but I happened to get a call from Liz about the mission, and I AM responding." Then I quickly changed from my PJ's (it had been a lazy morning) into my SAR stuff and was out the door and at the building in about 15 minutes. I pulled up at the same moment as Liz. Strange, I thought, no one else was there yet, and it had taken her at least half an hour to drive across town.

That's when Liz double-checked the text message and realized the date of the call had been September 19th. But her phone had JUST rung. Odd. So we were four days too late. (That mission, by the way, happened while we were at the SAR conference in Heber. Apparently, it wasn't a big deal. I heard the subject was lost along a Forest Service Road but easily found by my teammates who responded.) So I called the SAR line back and said something like, "Uh ... this is Deb Lauman again. Cancel that last message. There was a little goof with the text message." Well, at least it had gotten me out of my pajamas.

Oh--and I have no idea why I'm sharing this, but--about that Grand Canyon search earlier this month, I think I mentioned that I was a wee bit nervous along parts of the Tonto Trail where there was some significant exposure to a very long way down. Well, to be honest, instead of "wee bit nervous" make that (insert expletive) scared! I mean, the trail was about a foot wide for significant stretches with no way to put any distance between myself and the sheer drop. No vegetation or rocks as visual barriers at the very least, either. And the trail was that hard-pack stuff with loose gravel on top. You know, the kind of stuff where you'll be walking along and suddenly, without warning, your foot will slip out from under you, and the other one and then the rest of you will immediately follow. Yeah, that kind of stuff.

So I have to admit that I rather feebly called to my search-mate, who was ahead of me. He so kindly retraced his steps to where I was frozen and let me walk right behind him with one hand on his pack, as I stared at his feet and we took not much more than baby steps for what seemed like a really long way. Then he played memory games with me to try to take my mind off of ... well, death, basically. My wonderful partner said he promised he wouldn't tell and even said, "Hey, I'll tell you something embarrassing about me, so you'll know I won't tell anybody about this." Ah well, I still won't tell his tidbit ... partly because I can't remember it!

But the funny thing is, I was concentrating so hard on the memory game we were playing in order to keep going and get past that scary stuff, that I remember it weeks later. It was the "I'm going camping" game. See, the first person says, "I'm going camping, and I'm going to take a..." then names something beginning with the letter "A." Then the next person says, "I'm going camping, and I'm going to take..." and then repeats the "A" thing and adds a "B" thing. Then the first person says the "I'm going camping" part, repeats the "A" thing, the "B" thing and adds a "C" thing. And so on and so forth. Got that?

Well, I was so focused on that game, I still remember, "I'm going camping, and I'm going to take an alligator, a beach ball, a cat, a dog, an emu, a feather, Goofy, a helicopter, an igloo, a jellybean, a kaleidescope, a lounge chair, and a mudslide." Thankfully, that particular (expletive) scary section ended before we got to the "N" thing. But I'll probably remember that list a year from now, too.

About a half-hour later at the next scary stretch, we played a different game. But I'll spare you all of that information.

So why am I bothering to tell you this? Well, I guess, for one, I also wanted to share what a nice thing my search-mate said to me later that day--one of the nicest things anyone other than my husband has said to me in a long time. It went something like, "I'm really impressed with you, Deb. You're terrified about something and yet you do it anyway. That takes real guts." I mean, how cool. Here I was, a new tech team member, an experienced long-distance backpacker and active SAR volunteer with lots of mission hours under my belt now, and I was scared out of my noggin on parts of that trail. I felt ridiculous. And, yet, my teammate (also a Grand Canyon Ranger) turned it into a compliment. So, T.B., if you're reading this ... THANK YOU! I'll never forget that, either.