Climb On!

Climb on. Okay... I can do that. Sort of. I did a little of this (once) with the team at the Mt. Elden climbing area and got, oh, maybe 10 feet off the ground—felt like 100 feet to me—partly by wedging my face into a crack. Probably a deduction in style points for that move.

This time, we were at the Vertical Relief Climbing Gym here in Flagstaff, getting some special instruction from two of their experts, happy to be training indoors on that cold, rainy Sunday morning. This was training specifically to help us with buttom-up rescues, when we can't access the rescue-ee(s) from above, which is the norm for our team. But we do come across situations, as recently happened on a rescue down in Sedona (see link to news article below), where some climbing comes into play when there's no way to rig rope systems from the top.

A number of our tech team members are already good climbers, and I believe at least a couple of them would be considered expert level themselves. Others are very competent. But there are some, especially me, who are new to this bottom-up stuff, so this was very valuable training and not the last we'll do.

We were given an excellent intro to top-rope and lead-climbing techniques, as well oh-so-important belaying skills, which are different, of course, from the bottom than they are when belaying someone on rappel or who's ascending or being raised from above.

Needless to say, I'm much more comfortable belaying than being belayed while climbing. Sure, I still have my share of nerves when I go over the edge from the top (always will, I think), but climbing up is another story. Instead of being able to put my weight on the rope and trusting the system when working from the top, climbing makes me feel like I'm always on the verge of falling, even though I know someone's "got me" and that things have been safety-checked.

Someone recommended I need to actually fall a few times... onto the belay, of course... to get over that feeling. Probably true.

Anyway, this is what I posted on Facebook yesterday about that experience at the climbing gym:   

I was not good at it. I was scared, and I tossed what pride I have out the window. But every time I learned something new (different ways to use the handholds, how to shift my weight, etc.)... and every time I got higher up the wall... and when I made it down-climbing all the way back despite my shaking muscles (from nerves and the fact that I don't use some of those muscles very often), I felt just a tiny bit more confidence creep in. Part of me really wants to learn how to climb—mostly at the gym—just to get better at something that is so NOT a natural talent for me, that challenges me both mentally and physically, and something that makes me face my fear but in a safe way. I think I'll put that on my to-do/wish list.

So, I think I'll start saving my extra pennies and eventually take some lessons. In the meantime, I'm actually looking forward (in a nervous, insecure kinda way) to more of these bottom-up trainings with the team.


Recent Local Search & Rescue Missions and SAR Members in the News

Rescue Crews Save Freezing Homeless Man

Massive Effort Rescues Man from Bottom of Meteor Crater (January 10 -- A major, multi-agency rescue involving in frigid, windy conditions and a difficult confined space extraction)

Stranded Hikers Rescued Near Sedona (This is that bottom-up rescue I was referring to. I was not able to respond to this tech team call-out.)

A Day in the Life: Getting Paid to Hike (A story about one of our SAR teammates, who's also a backcountry guide in Grand Canyon)

SAR While I Was Away

While I know our SAR coordinator and assistant coordinators have been plenty hard at work, in part with calls that ended up being resolved by deputies and means other than us volunteers, it has been rather slow when it comes to call-outs. Not that that's a bad thing, of course! But there have been some call-outs lately, all of which occurred while I was either in a SAR-related class (Incident Command System 300) or while I was away for eight blissful days at Yosemite National Park.

First, there was the call for another body recovery below Midgley Bridge in Sedona. I say "another" because, sadly, we tend to have several of these calls each year. All but one that I know of since I've been on the team have been suicides, while one near (but not under) the bridge was an accidental fall. In this latest case, it was a 60-year-old woman who had died. See Woman's Body Found Below Midgley Bridge in the Arizona Daily Sun. Several of my teammates responded to this call.

Little Colorado River Gorge

Then there was a technical rescue call for a young man who'd fallen into the Little Colorado River Gorge and broken his leg. After a long wait due to the remoteness of the area and some misinformation from the reporting party about the victim's location, the injured man was eventually short-hauled by helicopter to the rim and then flown to the hospital. 

As I was on my way back from the Yosemite trip, a SAR call came through about a missing mule-rider in the Schultz Pass area of the San Francisco Peaks who may also have been injured. The call was for both general (ground) and mounted SAR. I later found out that the missing party showed up at home on his own.

After returning home myself, I happened upon a news story stating that search and rescue volunteers and deputies had been sent to look for a self-reporting lost hiker on Mount Elden, who told the 9-1-1 dispatcher that he'd hurt his ankle and thought he was being stalked by wild animals. Since I never received a call-out message, I'm assuming that certain volunteers who live near Mt. Elden were called directly to make the initial response. Read Drunken Hiker Asks for Rescue to find out how that mission was resolved.

And that's about all the SAR volunteer activity I know of, other than some team trainings, while I was away. In about a week, I'll be tied up again, this time in a five-day Inland Search Management class. Having completed the ICS-300 class last month and some other prerequisites, I've now been added to the ops list and will be called out if operations leaders are needed to prepare for a mission. So, this next class will teach me more about SAR operations and help me contribute. I'm excited! 

Have I mentioned lately that I love SAR?

A Joint Technical Rescue Training with Border Patrol

That was fun! And it was a challenging exercise, too.

Members of Borstar (which stands for Border Patrol Search, Trauma, and Rescue) out of Tucson invited our technical rescue team to join them for some training in Sedona. They'd come up from southern Arizona on Tuesday to work on wilderness survival and high-angle rescue skills, setting up camp in a beautiful spot overlooking red rock country.

On Wednesday morning, those of us from Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue who were available to participate drove down to meet them, and after introductions were made around their morning campfire and breakfast and coffee were consumed, we moved to the site of the day's tech training: the canyon at Midgely Bridge.

The goal for the day was to set up a high line across the canyon, then do some evolutions with a rescuer on the line, sending that brave soul out to the middle of the canyon, lowering and then raising the rescuer, and then hauling him or her back to one side of the canyon or the other. (I heard some onlookers refer to what we were setting up as a "zip line," but that's something quite different. We certainly didn't want to send anyone zipping anywhere.)

The first part of the operation was a real challenge, given that we didn't have one of those guns that shoots rope. (I've not seen one in action yet, but I've heard about this piece of equipment several times—every time we have to haul rope from one side of a canyon to another.) Once the rope, the track line, had been secured on the "near side" of the canyon, a Borstar member rappelled to the bottom, brought the rope across, and hooked it up to a line sent down from the "far side," so the other end of the rope could be raised and anchored over there. Problem was, there were trees in the way, and the rope had to clear those trees. And it was a lot of rope. The canyon was just shy of 300 feet from rim to rim.

No one was in a big rush, but it took quite a long time just to get the rope strung across the canyon. Then came the task of setting up the anchors, the artificial high directionals on both sides, the tag lines, and the hoist line. Issues were discussed (i.e., the angle of the monopod and guiding lines), and the teams on either side hiked around to the opposite rim via the bridge to inspect the other team's setup before any evolutions took place.

Finally, it was time to send someone across, down, up, and over. Some challenges were had along the way, but in the end, everything was done safely and successfully.

Here are some more photos from our fun day of training. (Some of my teammates went back to Sedona for a second day of joint training with Borstar.)...

One of my teammates helps Borstar members put together the monopod.

Getting some good shots of the system.

Putting together the final touches, like the big Kootenay pulley on the track line.

A rescuer is sent out over the canyon.

The rescuer is lowered mid-canyon, then raised and hauled to the other side.

A Happy Surprise in Waterholes Canyon

Once upon a time, there was a man in a canyon. Well, not just in a canyon, stuck in a canyon. This was a very deep and narrow canyon, and the man had been stuck down there for four days and three nights. Three very cold nights, that is, with little to protect him from the elements but a thin jacket and leaves he stuffed in his shirt. A winter storm had visited the area while he was down there, alone.

The man, a traveler from Europe, had run out of water in his Camelbak, probably on the first day. He had no food. He'd injured his left ankle, which was severely swollen, and had bad rope burns on his hands. By the fourth morning, he'd given up hope and "made peace," he later said. He knew he would not survive another night.

But he did! Thankfully, the cards were in his favor, as was his own strength, so he spent that fourth night in a warm bed instead of freezing, thirsty, hungry, and possibly dying in that canyon.

The man had entered the canyon on Friday. His flight home left from Las Vegas without him on Saturday. (Good thing it was that soon because no one may have realized he was missing until he missed that plane.) On Sunday, his wife had called for help when her husband failed to return, and that call for help was relayed to the Coconino County Sheriff's Department.

In the wee hours of the morning on Monday, the man's vehicle was located at the top of the slot canyon, in a pull-out along the highway south of Page, Arizona. The search and rescue team was called out at about 4 a.m., and north we went from Flagstaff. It didn't look good for the man we had to assume was somewhere in that big canyon, with many rappels, one about 400 feet in vertical length, between the highway and the Colorado River.

But then things took a turn... for the much better: A deputy walking the rim and calling out in the dark heard a voice answer from below. That great news was quickly relayed to our team as we drove, and the mood changed. Approximate coordinates were called in by the deputy on scene to our coordinator in another vehicle and transmitted from our coordinator to us.

Then our teammate in the passenger seat, an expert canyoneer very familiar with this canyon, plotted those coordinates on the map, knowing it was not possible to pinpoint the man's exact location by voice contact alone. Given a good idea of where he was, however—although he could have been at the top of a rappel or at the bottom—rescue scenarios were hashed out and re-hashed among us. Everything would depend, of course, on the man's actual location in the canyon and his physical condition.

The rescue could not have gone more smoothly. Two of my teammates and a medic from Page Fire Department entered Waterholes Canyon via a known "escape route" not far from where voice contact had been made from the rim. Carrying medical and warm-up gear, extra food and drinks (including some water I'd boiled for hot cocoa), they made their way down and then up-canyon toward the subject.

Meanwhile, the rest of us came up with a backup plan in case the man needed to be raised out of the canyon with a technical rope rescue system. The DPS helicopter had landed, and the pilot and medic stood by.

Regarding the helicopter crew, they'd flown over the canyon and spotted the man, but they would not have been able to short-haul him from his current location. The canyon was too deep and narrow. And given the fact that the man was standing and waving his arms, the added risk of performing a short-haul, had one even been possible, was deemed unnecessary. The man would either be assisted out by rescuers under his own power, or he would be "packaged" in either a litter or a harness and raised out of the canyon with an attendant.

As it turned out, the man, perhaps somewhat aided by adrenaline, was able to tough out his injuries and exit the canyon via the escape route, with the help of the three rescuers. As his head popped up over the rim, we all saw a big smile on his face, and we all smiled, too.

Joel and Mike get geared up and ready to go into the canyon.

Jeff from Page Fire looks down at the deputy on the rim.

Rescuers wait for word from those descending to the subject.

DPS Ranger out of Tucson arrives on scene.

Our team's Polaris UTV with Mattrax is very useful in this rugged terrain.

 

******

 And in other recent Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue news...

There was a mission in Meadow Canyon, a moderately technical canyon south of Flagstaff. This was a search for two overdue canyoneers. (Canyon rescues seem to be... rather, I would say are on the increase in the area.)  I was unable to respond to this call, which came in the middle of the night, because I couldn't leave my sick pup (who's now fine, thankfully). But a teammate gave me the scoop. He said...

"I went on that call last night thinking it would last maybe 6 to 8 hours (I had a job lined up at noon) and instead it lasted 16 hours. A couple guys in their early 40s were overdue from a canyoneering trip. Eight of us tried all night to find roads that would take us to the edge of the canyon but with no luck. The back roads were muddy, icy and snow covered.

"The helicopter saw the subjects' campfire and got their coordinates, but we still couldn't get to them. With daylight, a radio was dropped to them and they claimed they were too tired and cold to go further and were afraid of the almost 100-yard swim in from of them.

"We talked about sending two people in by helicopter to help swim and hike them out but opted instead for a short haul. The chopper was low on fuel, so the subjects were flown just to the rim, and we had to pick them up via UTV and ATV. The road was strewn with boulders, mud and snow, and it took a couple of hours. On the way back, the ATVs got stuck in the snow a number of times. It was a long day, but the subjects were very thankful."

So, good, another happy ending! 

******

Need a new read? My novel "I. Joseph Kellerman" (which has nothing at all to do with SAR) is available on Amazon Kindle and in paperback. Thanks for putting up with my blatant plug.

Recent SAR Activity

I haven't posted in awhile, but that's not for lack of SAR activity. Although it's been slower than last year at this time when it comes to call-outs, there have been missions lately. It's just that, unfortunately for a writer-type like me, there have been a couple of recent missions I've participated in that I'm not able to write about due to their ongoing and, you might say, legally sensitive nature.

But... I can tell you about a few other missions, none of which I've been able to respond to myself. Two of those calls happened Wednesday, as I sat here with a nasty head cold and sore throat. Woe is me. So, my teammates filled me in...

A Bitter Cold Search on the North Rim

This search occurred a few days before Christmas. The call-out, which came at 3 a.m., was about a track hoe driver who didn't return from moving his machine from one area to another near the North Rim of Grand Canyon.

Searchers towed the team's snowcat and four snowmobiles a few hours from Flagstaff to Jacob Lake and then another 20 miles toward the Grand Canyon on Highway 67. They stopped at a side road the missing subject was reportedly on and sent in the 'cat, with the snowmobiles on standby. In about a mile, the 'cat found the track hoe with the driver inside, cold but otherwise in good shape. He had gotten low on fuel and stopped after midnight.

SAR volunteers were then told two of the subject's fellow employees had taken a Jeep to go look for him, so when the DPS helicopter arrived on scene, our coordinator directed the aircraft to look for their vehicle. The crew spotted the unoccupied vehicle and one subject a few miles away, walking toward the track hoe, so SAR volunteers in the snowcat went back in and picked him up. Turns out, he was the only one in the Jeep. 

It was bitterly cold out there, below zero with the wind chill, so searchers were glad to wrap things up.

 

A Joint Search for a Missing Hiker in Yavapai County

At 6 a.m. on the morning of Wednesday, December 28th, our technical/mountain rescue team was called to assist the Yavapai County team with a search for an overdue 21-year-old hiker, last seen on Tuesday at around noon in steep, rugged terrain near the Village of Oak Creek.

That hiker was Mahdi Harrizi, visiting the area with his family from New York. Mahdi's mother called for help at about 4 p.m. on Tuesday, after her son called her from his cellphone, saying he was stranded on a ledge near Castle Rock.

According to reports, Mahdi had taken a trail from behind the resort where they were staying. At the time his mother made the call for help, she had been able to see him up at the top of the mountain.

Searchers from Yavapai County arrived on scene soon after, just as the sun was setting, but Sheriff's deputies were unable to get a GPS coordinate on Mahdi's cell phone because of the remote location. Ground searchers and a Department of Public Safety helicopter crew looked for Mahdi throughout the night and then called Coconino County SAR for assistance.

From what I heard, just after the DPS helicopter dropped off more technical rescue SAR members at the top of the mountain at about 11:15 a.m. on Wednesday and were flying off, the crew spotted Mahdi's body between a sheer cliff and some shrubs. Sheriff’s officials stated that Harrizi apparently fell about 150 feet, and he may have fallen shortly after his conversation with his mother.

Here's a photo from one of my teammates who was at the top of the mountain....

From One Mission to Another

At 4 p.m. on the 28th, we received another call-out. This was another mission down in Sedona for a stranded climber. Additional technical rescue team members as well as general SAR were asked to respond, to assist the other tech team members already en route from the day's first mission to the next.

I don't yet have any details about what happened, but I'll fill in you once I do.

And now that I'm just about over this creeping crud I've had for several days, I've got my SAR gear ready to respond if... well, when we get another call.

An Extreme, Multi-Agency Technical Rescue

Photo courtesy of R. Marlatt

First an overview and then some personal comments about this mission, which may be one of the most technically difficult rescues our team has ever faced...

On Saturday, August 13t, 36-year-old Mike from Payson, Arizona, was canyoneering with several friends in Insomnia Canyon, a tributary of West Fork near Sedona. Mike was on the final 150 feet of a 350-foot rappel when he lost control, picking up speed, and fell about 100 feet. He struck a rock on the way down and then fell another 40 feet, ending up a total of 1,800 feet below the rim with multiple injuries. Two of his friends continued down canyon and made the long trip out to get help, while two others remained behind with Mike.

Once emergency services were notified of the accident, more than 25 rescuers from multiple agencies responded, including Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue, Sedona Fire District, Flagstaff Fire Department, Guardian Medical Transport, Department of Public Safety helicopters out of Kingman and Phoenix, and Native Air.

Two of the volunteers from search and rescue had to make eight rappels and three swims to reach the patient late Saturday night and remained with him, rendering medical care while other rescuers rappelled with the Stokes litter, additional medical equipment, and gear for setting up lowering and raising systems and main and belay lines. About 2,600 feet of rope was needed.

An attempt by a DPS helicopter crew was made at first light on Sunday to short haul the patient from his original location, but the slot canyon was too tight for the aircraft. So the patient was then raised by rescuers 800 feet to a ledge where he could be accessed for the short haul, which took place at 1 p.m. at Sunday, at least 24-hours after he'd fallen. Two rescuers accompanied the patient on the raise, while two others continued down canyon with the patient's uninjured friends. They had at least a couple more rappels ahead of them and then a lengthy hike out. They were met en route by fire personnel, who'd hiked in from the Call of the Canyon trailhead to assist them with carrying gear after their exhausting time in the canyon.

After the patient was removed from the canyon and flown to a hospital in Phoenix, where he's since been upgraded from critical to serious condition, came the arduous task for the rescuers of getting themselves and their gear out of the canyon, with a 1,000-foot elevation difference between their location and the rim. This involved ascending ropes one by one, hauling up both their own body weight and heavy gear with their spent muscles.

Several rescuers were able to make the difficult climb, but given the stormy monsoon weather that was moving in, the time of day, and their extreme exhaustion, six of the remaining rescuers were short hauled to the rim by DPS. DPS also assisted with this rescue by lowering a cargo net full of fluids to the rescuers and hauling off two nets full of gear.

Rescue personnel were also assisted by volunteer members of Coconino County C.E.R.T. (Community Emergency Response Team), who drove our weary group back to Flagstaff. Their help was much needed and appreciated.

Regarding the patient...

In a comment on a Hiking Examiner article, Mike's mother writes, "He did break both his heels, and his pelvis in six places. He also fractured his spine and had internal bleeding. The internal bleeding seems to have stopped. He will need to have more surgeries and procedures and it will be at least 3 months before he is able to walk again."

And now for some personal comments...

I'm so proud to be a member of this team and so proud of my teammates, who went all out on this mission at significant personal risk. Controlled risk, yes, and with as much attention to safety as possible, but no tech rescue is without risk, of course. And this one was a doozy.

Yes, I was on this mission, and I did assist, but my role was minimal compared to my teammates. I say that because, after descending approximately 500 feet below the rim on a handline (using a Prusik), when I came to the ledge at the start of the next 500-foot rappel, I made the decision that that's where I needed to stop. It wasn't an easy decision, and I agonized about it throughout the night as each of my teammates loaded up with gear in addition to their own packs, attached their self-belays to the second rope and their rappel devices, and one-by-one descended through the thick manzanita, their headlamps soon disappearing from my view. It seemed to take a very long time until the one on rappel would announce over the radio that he was off rappel and off belay. One said this was the nastiest rappel he'd ever experienced.

A 500-foot rappel. With heavy gear. With a self-belay. Through the brush and other difficulties. Was I ready for that? What would happen if I ran into trouble partway down? On my own. I didn't really have enough rope time under my belt—not with all that gear, all that distance—I thought to myself.  And if things didn't go right, I was putting not only myself but my team and, ultimately, the man we were there to rescue at even greater risk. No, I decided, I wasn't going down any further.

So, the best I could do to help was go up and down the hand line with equipment and help with communication and whatever else might be called for up near the top.

Of course, this mission wasn't about me whatsoever, and I'm sure no one was really thinking about me but me. And I had to make a decision about my own limitations, regardless of the fact that more hands were sorely needed far below. Like I said, it was a very tough call for me. But I'll be continuing to gain experience on the rope, rappelling and ascending with my pack and extra gear, passing knots in both directions... and with someone else belaying me, at least at first. Eventually, I'll be ready.

And in the interest of not ending on a note about me, I want to reiterate what an awesome job Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue technical team did, along with all other responding agencies. You saved a life in really difficult conditions. You rock!

Way Over The Edge -- A Technical Recovery Mission

Horseshoe Bend (Colorado River) -- the site of our mission

Do you know how heavy 900 feet of half-inch rope is?

Neither do I, exactly. At least, not in actual pounds. But I've felt how heavy it is as I've tried to belay someone on the end of it. Actually, at the point where a stronger teammate took over, when my arms were starting to shake and the sweat was dripping off my chin—it was about 100 degrees out there under the desert sun—there was far less than 900 feet of rope already over the edge.

When my hands were free of the tandem prusik belay, I moved over to the main line and attached another rope to the 600-footer we were quickly using up (I tied the standard double fisherman's knot to join the two) and then maneuvered through the knot-passing process when the time came.

And down, down, down our teammate went over the edge of the 1,100-foot cliff at Horseshoe Bend, retrieving evidence. That had been our assignment for the day: to retrieve some items that had been spotted from the rim, believed to belong to a missing person. But as that task was being carried out, things changed when our teammate detected something more than just evidence. It was intermittent and faint at first, so down, down, down we lowered him, communicating via radio until he found the human remains.

As physically demanding, hot, and uncomfortable as the task sometimes was for those of us up on top, we knew our teammate, who was on his own below the rim, had the most difficult job of all... in more ways than one. Those of us tending to his lifelines from above frequently commented amongst ourselves about the long, grim task he was faced with.

Originally, the mission was expected to be fairly brief and wrapped up by noon. As it turned out, we didn't get back to Flagstaff until after 9 p.m. But we were glad to help bring closure to that search and that family.

Here are some photos from that day's long technical recovery mission near Page, Arizona...

The tech gear is loaded and ready.

 

An NPS ranger shows my teammate some of the visible evidence below.

 

 

We use the truck as an anchor for the main and belay lines.

Randy works the edge, keeping an eye on our teammate below and communicating with him.

The DPS helicopter drops a cargo net to our teammate for the recovery.

The helicopter moves closer to the cliff and our teammate's location.

Rather than raise Joel back up 900 feet, he's short-hauled to the rim.

In other Coconino County SAR news...

From July 5th: Another find for the SAR dogs

I received this mission report from Cindy, the K9 handler:

"Last night at 2030 hours, the dogs were called out for a search on the San Francisco Peaks off the Weatherford Trail.  We deployed from the center section of the trail, with the assignment of ascending to the summit starting at 2200 hours (appx 10,000'-11,000' elevation). 

"After 3 miles and 1.5 hours of hiking, all 4 of my search dogs started to show alert signals telling me they were working scent.  Each time they came to a specific point in the switchbacks we were hiking during our ascent, they would all begin to work up in elevation off trail then return to the trail.  From this behavior, I was able to inform the strike team that I expected the subjects to be above us directly each time the dogs began to show their alert behaviors. 

"Just another 2 switchbacks up, they all left the trail in a beeline straight up an extremely steep grade, cutting the next switchback entirely, directly to the subjects and gave simultaneous final responses.  Both of the subjects were cold, shivering and wet from the light rain but, after some warming and a change of clothes, they both walked out with our strike team's assistance.  They had no food, water, rain gear and the light they had was from their i-phone."

SAR Business is Picking Up

Compared to past winters since I've been on the Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue (Coco SAR) team, this last one was relatively quiet. Not nearly as many call-outs as the year before, for sure. But now that spring has sprung in northern Arizona, the calls are coming more frequently.

After the successful all-night search in Sedona, there was another call-out just a couple of days later, this one for the rescue of three stranded hikers in Sycamore Canyon, at least one of whom was suffering from a heat-related illness. Eight SAR volunteers responded to the area, while a DPS helicopter was on its way. The helicopter crew located the subjects and lowered food, water, and a handheld radio to the young men, the latter so SAR could keep in contact with them. They didn't have enough of a cellphone signal in the canyon to make a voice call, but one of them had apparently been able to send a text message to a family member, who had then contacted 9-1-1.

I was not able to respond to the mission that night, but I talked to a team member who was there and was told the hikers had run out of food and water and eventually light. With the one hiker being ill and without provisions, they'd been unable to keep moving. After being hydrated and re-fueled by the DPS crew and later, when search and rescue reached them on foot, given more food and water and warm clothes, they were able to slowly hiked out with our team.

Then, yesterday, the start of the Memorial Day weekend, there were two calls, one a search for a dementia patient and another for a technical rescue near Supai at Mooney Falls, which is down in the Grand Canyon on reservation land, not in the National Park. I was on a recreational hike at the time, quite a distance from my vehicle and then a long drive from Flagstaff, so again, I was unable to respond.

The first mission, however, was soon called off because the subject was located and transported by EMS. I don't yet know what happened with the Mooney Falls mission, other than the fact that, when the call-out was made, a DPS helicopter was already en route. For those familiar with the area, you know that Flagstaff is a long way from Hualapai Hilltop, the trailhead for Supai and, from there, Mooney Falls. Our response time would be very long. But I'll update you when I learn more.

And here I sit at home, listening to wind blow up to 65mph gusts outside my office window, hanging around doing computer work and reading until the next call-out comes in. If... or, more likely, when it comes, I'll be going.

A Fallen Climber in Jack's Canyon

I had just gotten home when the call came for a technical rescue in Jack's Canyon (pictured above), about 30 miles from Winslow, AZ. I'd been at the morning session of the map and compass class, part of our team's annual three-day "navigation boot camp," which we run primarily for members of other teams and organizations. The field session would begin later in the afternoon, so I'd wanted to stop home for a while beforehand to see my dog and have lunch. But SAR called, and back to the building I and eight other tech team members went.

By the time I arrived, the gear had been loaded and we were ready to roll. We drove code three—lights and sirens and speed—down I-40, listening to our coordinator communicate with other agencies, including DPS and Guardian helicopter crews and an on-scene deputy. We knew that the Blue Ridge Fire Department was there also and that it was likely the patient would be airlifted to the hospital before we'd arrive. There's a landing zone at the bottom of the canyon, not far from where the accident occurred. But we kept going, knowing that anything can happen and assuming our help would be needed. That's how we always respond to call-outs.

Sure enough, the patient was packaged and on the Guardian helicopter, en route to Flagstaff Medical Center, before we got to the staging area, which of course was better for the patient. Waiting for us to get all the way out there from Flagstaff and then do a long, rugged litter evacuation probably wouldn't be a patient's first choice.

Apparently, the climber had taken a 20- to 30-foot fall, landed on his feet, then went down on his back. He'd hit his head but thankfully was wearing a helmet.

After talking with the deputy about what had happened, my teammates and I walked to the canyon rim and a short distance down the trail to take a look at the area. Several of us had never been there before.

It sure was a busy place on that Saturday afternoon, with several groups of climbers visible in the relatively small area of the canyon we could see from where we were standing. We watched climbers on the canyon's far wall and could hear lots of voices coming from below. There were numerous tents set up among the pinon–juniper on the rim.

As we stood there, watching climbers, we discussed how we would have carried out the evacuation had there been no helicopter available but just a waiting ambulance, or if the accident had occurred far from a landing zone. Never know what a future call to Jack's Canyon might bring.

Buried Alive on Purpose (Me, That Is)

I suppose if you have to get buried alive, it's best if it's done by fellow SAR members who will also dig you out.

When my cell phone rang and I saw it was our coordinator, I figured I was being selectively called for a mission, which happens now and then when only a small number of searchers and/or rescuers are needed.

But that wasn't the case this time. No, this time I was asked to be the live avalanche victim for our team's third and final Mountain Rescue Association test—the Snow & Ice/Alpine test—to be held on Agassiz Peak on March 6th.

"We'll give you a straw so you can breathe," the sergeant said.

I laughed (a little). "Very funny," I replied... but noticed the absence of a chuckle on the other end. Um... uh-oh.

As it turned out, I didn't even get the straw. After trudging up to the test area with evaluators, I turned my beacon to transmit and, as my teammates got closer, lay down in the hole that was dug out to fit my body. When they got within minutes of being in view of the (fake) avalanche path, with me and a deceased dummy (without a beacon) buried in it, one of the evaluators from Las Vegas shoveled several inches of snow over my face, leaving a small air space. With one eye, I could see a bit of blue sky as I waited for rescue and the snow melted by my warm breath trickled onto my face and down my neck.

Within minutes, I heard snowshoes crunching quickly across the mountainside, coming toward my head, as one of the searchers picked up my beacon signal with his own beacon and honed in on my location. Moments later, a shovel nailed me on the leg. I emitted a muffled "ow!" which wasn't part of my instructions, then went back to being the verbally unresponsive victim I was supposed to be.

Soon, the snow was removed from my wet face, and two more teammates showed up to begin a medical evaluation. Being "pain-responsive only," I moaned when my right rib cage and upper right leg were palpated. Otherwise, I kept my eyes closed and stayed as limp as I could. That is, until I started shivering uncontrollably. That part was real.

Honestly, I've never been so cold in my life. My alpine clothing has always been sufficient in the past, but then again, I've never tested it by lying on, let alone being buried in, the snow for any length of time. Though a small closed cell foam pad had been placed between my core and the snow, moisture eventually soaked through my two bottom layers to my legs, and the cold seeped into my arms through layers of thermal underwear, fleece, and my lined coat and to my head through my wool hat. My attending teammates covered me with a space blanket and whatever else they had with them, but without the evacuation team there with extra hands and the Bowman bag and litter, they couldn't get me off the snow. So, they tended to me—for fake and real issues—including placing a traction splint on my right leg for the fake femur fracture, and we waited.

Oh, right... I was let out of my hole to go for a quick pee break, but that movement did little to warm me up. Then back to my hole and (sort of) unresponsive state I went to wait for the others. When they arrived and I was lifted onto the Bowman bag, I warmed up right away. Or I should say, I was less cold at that point. Once packaged like a burrito in the litter, I stopped shivering completely and relaxed for the ride down the mountain, secured by rope and my capable teammates. The ride was a smooth one... while it lasted.

Then I heard at the same time my teammates did, "Rig for raise!" Oh, crud. The evaluators wanted to see the team display a "hot changeover" and alpine raising skills. With my eyes closed and face mostly covered by warm layers, going up felt just like going down. The only difference for me was that I heard the litter attendants' breathing become more labored with the extra effort of going uphill at altitude.

And then I heard an evaluator yell, "Okay, unpackage her and let her out!"

Shoot. There went my easy ride down the mountain, not to mention the warmth of the gear burrito I'd been in the middle of.

When I was helped to my feet, I was colder than ever. As my teammates who are alpine certified continued testing on various skills, several others on the mountain worked to boil water to make me hot drinks and started a small fire. Shivering despite additional layers and a wool blanket wrapped around me and chilled on the inside, I danced around and waited. Once I got hot liquid into me, sipping as I leaned over the fire, I finally warmed up again. By the time the testing was over and we were ready to hike out, I felt like myself again, vowing to invest in some better alpine clothing right away.

Oh, and I should mention... the team passed the test! Yay, Coconino County Sheriff's SAR!  Ours is now only the fourth MRA-accredited team in the Southwest region. It's been a long and sometimes stressful effort but worth it. Our team will be formally voted in as an MRA member at their Spring conference this June 16–19 in Eagle, Colorado. 

I'm Not Missing! (And a Ropes That Rescue Class)

I'm still an addicted... uh, dedicated... SAR member. It's just been a while since I've posted and just as long since I've been on a mission.

Actually, compared to most of the past few years, when it wasn't unusual to get a least one or two calls per week, lasting anywhere from hours to days, it's been relatively quiet lately. There has been some SAR activity, but I've either been out of town at the time or tied up with my elderly mom, who I take care of and who's had some medical issues lately.

We did have a decent snow storm back in January, when I-17 and other slippery roads in and out of Flagstaff were closed for most of an afternoon, evening, and night, stranding motorists. Several SAR volunteers were hand-called that night (as opposed to a general call-out) and went out in the storm to bring water and blankets and other supplies to people stuck in their vehicles and rescue some who couldn't stick it out. I was pretty well snowed in that night and listened to my teammates on an online scanner.

Let's see... what else happened? Well, there were a few calls that never really got off the ground, when SAR responded late at night, only to hang out at the building until it was confirmed that the situations had been resolved by the helicopter crew or other means. Such is SAR sometimes.

And there were a couple of missions down in the West Fork of Oak Creek—searches for overdue hikers—that both ended well. As did a situation on the peaks, when two of my teammates were asked to go up there to help a couple who'd gotten a bit misplaced, not having a map. They didn't have the required (free) winter backcountry permit, either, so they had a little meet-n-greet with the Forest Service when they emerged from the forest. So that'll cost 'em a bit more than the free permit would have. (Added later: As of 2019, this free permit is no longer required for winter backcountry recreation in the Kachina Peaks Wilderness. Here the Forest Service update.)

At our recent monthly meeting, our team coordinator said he attributes some of this slow-down in calls to the fact that snow conditions have been pretty crappy so far this winter, so skiers and snowboarders generally haven't been venturing out-of-bounds from the ski area or otherwise going into the backcountry. That could change as of this weekend, though, because it's currently snowing quite heavily, and the storm is expected to dump as much as 18 inches here in town, with more on the peaks.

So, I don't have any recent firsthand SAR mission experiences to tell you about since back on New Year's Eve. But I have been doing SAR stuff, including practicing technical rescue skills. Back in November, I took my second class with Ropes That Rescue in Sedona, Arizona, and I just finished a third. Here are some photos from the class.

What a Strange Mission

Things changing on a dime during a SAR mission isn't anything unusual; situations are often dynamic, and we're accustomed to altering the plan, often more than once during a search or rescue. But this one takes the cake for the weirdest twists and turns during any mission I've been on over the past few years.

So, okay, this is my best attempt to explain...

First, we responded to a call-out for overdue hikers in the area of Schnebly Hill Rd. in Sedona. That was sometime around 5:30 p.m.

As we were loading gear and getting ready to deploy, there was a second call-out, this one for a search on Mt. Elden. Technical team members were requested for that mission. Several of us were already at the SAR building, so we split off from the other group heading to Schnebly Hill. Others tech members would be responding directly to the mountain and rendezvous with us there.

Apparently, a couple of hikers on Mt. Elden had reported hearing someone yelling from somewhere above them. That was all we knew.

Information-gathering was ongoing as five of us drove to a trail access to the waterfall area. En route, a teammate who was handling ops (operations) advised us that we should split up—drop two of us off at Buffalo Park to hike east and try to make voice contact with whoever was out there... or might be out there, possibly stuck or injured on the mountain.

In the meantime, a deputy had hiked in toward the waterfall (which is usually more of a trickle on a steep slope covered with huge boulders that eventually cliffs out) and was able to make voice contact... with someone. After hearing from that someone that he was not injured but was stuck on a ledge, the deputy hiked back to meet with SAR members at the parking area.

Over the radio, our ops leader gave the rest of us approximate coordinates of where the voice came from, and we all headed that way. I was one of the two hiking from Buffalo Park, so we had a longer distance to cover than the others.

Somewhere along the line—not quite sure of the exact timing of all this—two of my teammates who live near Mt. Elden got a head start on climbing and also eventually made voice contact... with someone.

At one point, I heard radio traffic stating the subject had an ankle injury and would need a litter evacuation. Huh? Why had the stranded person not told the deputy he was hurt? Or was this a new injury since then? An evac team began preparing to hike in with the litter and  ropes.

Then the information changed again. No injury now. We all kept moving toward the coordinates we'd been given.

Soon, the going got much tougher. The trail Sueanne and I had been following petered out so we used game trails instead, and the terrain steepened to the point where we had to use our hands to scramble. The spear-like agave and prickly pear cactus became formidable obstacles. (I later discover scrapes on my legs that I somehow hadn't felt during the mission. And Sueanne put her hand right on a prickly pear while climbing.)

Okay, so...

We saw our teammates' lights above and continued in their direction when, all of a sudden, we heard a scream. Was that an animal? It didn't sound very human. Then we heard it again. Yep, human alright, and it sounded bad. There was some radio talk amongst the rest of the team and IC (Incident Command) about that scream. Someone said, "He sounds altered." Uh-huh. A head injury? Drugs?

Eventually, Sueanne and I had climbed to the location where most of the rest of the team had stopped. The other two who'd gotten a head start were above us—some were guessing 50 feet above, some 100 feet... no one was quite sure—and they'd now gotten a visual on two people.

Is this getting too long? Sorry, I'll try to speed it up...

So, long story shorter, we had one young guy on a cliff. He's the one who'd screamed. The other guy—older, who turned out to be a homeless man who'd been living in a cave somewhere on the mountain for more than 10 years—said the younger guy was suicidal. The "cave man" was yelling in a threatening way at my two teammates, who were in a precarious situation, both terrain-wise and otherwise.

Were either of the subjects armed? Were they dangerous? The older guy from the cave was demanding our teammates shut off their headlamps and climb down in the dark. Afraid of having rocks hurled at them (or worse) while clinging to the side of the cliff, they retreated to a safer location and requested law enforcement assistance. Two deputies began hiking toward the mountain. In the meantime, the rest of us were told to hold our position.

As we later learned, when the cave man continued to yell and demand our teammates turn off their lights and hike down in the dark, they'd responded with something like,"No, we're not going to do that. You two go that way, and we'll go the other way." Then they turned off their lights and stayed put for about 15 minutes as they watched the two subjects move off. That's when the rest of us were informed they might be headed toward us and that we should turn off our headlamps, too, but talk so we wouldn't startle them. No, we didn't want to surprise those two.

Eventually, IC told us to return to base. We waited till our teammates above descended to our location, and then the nine of us picked our way down the mountain. Maybe half a mile from the parking area, word traveled up to the front of our line of SAR volunteers that the younger subject had come up behind the last person. No sign of the cave man.

Our teammate in the back, who I'm sure was a bit startled, had said, "Hey... where ya goin'?"

And the young man replied, "Down."

"Well... do you want to walk with us?

"Okay," the subject had agreed. He was clearly dehydrated, weak, and cold.

The rest of us were asked to wait as two SAR members in the back stopped to give Eric—that was his name—some water, snacks, and a jacket. He was very tall and extremely thin, wearing all black clothing and untied combat boots. His shaggy hair hung down over his face but not enough to conceal his blackened eyes. Was that makeup? Or bruises?

When Eric was able to continue walking, we went the rest of the way to Incident Command at the parking lot. At one point, I stopped and Eric passed me, and I watched him sway. I was ready to grab him if he fell over.

When he saw the lights from the deputies' vehicles and waiting ambulance, Eric repeatedly looked at my teammate Sueanne, an EMT who'd evaluated him after he joined us. He was clearly nervous.

He also looked very familiar.

When we arrived at the vehicles, Eric was helped into the waiting ambulance as I walked over to hear what one of the deputies had to say. He told of a close encounter with the cave man, a dark shadow moving through the forest. That dark shadow must have brought Eric down to where we were (followed us without our knowing it), set him in our direction, and then slinked off. When the cave man passed the deputy, he hadn't responded to his request (or order, I would assume) to stop. They'd be looking for that dark shadow in the morning, he said.

As my teammates and I were headed back to the SAR building, someone mentioned that Eric had said he was from Munds Park. And that's when I knew why he looked so familiar; we'd searched for him earlier this year when he walked away from the group home where he was (is?) living.

So, how did he come to be on that ledge on Mt. Elden? Did the cave man lure him up there? Or did he find him up there? Eric said he started walking in the morning, but we weren't sure if that was accurate. He said he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in a day, and he certainly wasn't dressed for the temperature. Had he been out there all night, the result likely would not have been good.

And who had been talking to the deputy when he first made voice contact? Eric or the other guy?

Well, I'm sure I've left out some details, but that's the gist of it. Kinda weird, huh?

As far as the other mission—the one in Sedona we'd initially responded to—I don't know yet what happened with that, but I think I heard someone say it had been wrapped up fairly quickly. 

And here's a media release about a rescue (that I wasn't able to respond to) in the same waterfall area on Mt. Elden the night before these two missions: (content was removed) Search and Rescue Locates and Rescues Overdue Hiker on Mt. Elden

A Technical Rescue in Waterholes Canyon

Twelve of us, including nine technical rescue team members, a lieutenant, and two deputies, stood near the rim of Waterholes Canyon, watching the helicopter fly low over the landscape as the pilot assessed the situation. Would a short haul of the two stranded young men in the canyon be possible? And, if so, was a short haul the best option?

That had yet to be determined by the time our team had driven two hours north from Flagstaff and then overland across the desert about a mile from the highway. We had a lot of heavy gear to haul, especially all the rope, so we were glad to be able to use vehicles and the Polaris Ranger UTV to get it closer to the rescue site.

Eventually, the helicopter landed and the pilot and medic came over to talk to the team. A short haul was not advisable, the pilot said, and the team had already come to the conclusion that a ground technical rescue would be the safest option. The subjects were in good condition without any injuries or medical complaints, so the'd be able to assist in their own rescue.

The call had come at around 11 p.m. the night before. Tech team members were asked to report to the SAR building by 4:45 in the morning. Voice contact had been made between the two stranded men and a deputy on the rim several hundred feet above, and the two said they were unhurt and okay to spend the night down there. They had enough gear, food, and water to wait for a daylight rescue, which would be safer for all involved.

It was a calm, beautiful day on the Colorado Plateau near Page, Arizona, but the forecast was calling for very high winds, which had already picked up to the south. High winds would make the rescue more difficult, in part because it would hamper voice communication between rescuers and subjects since the subjects didn't have radios. So, once the short haul was ruled out, there was no time to waste getting to the two men and assisting them back to the rim. While no one rushed unnecessarily, the team got right to work.

This was our team's first technical rescue since passing the MRA (Mountain Rescue Association) rock rescue portion of the three-part test, which took place on October 9th. (The third will be the Snow & Ice test on the San Francisco Peaks here in Flagstaff in early March.) To me, my teammates now seemed much more relaxed than before the test. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like there was more camaraderie than there had been prior to our day-long evaluation during the challenging simulated rescue. (Edited to add: Just to clarify, this was not Coconino County SAR's first technical rescue by any means. Coco SAR has been doing tech rescue for a long time. MRA certification is not something that's mandatory.)

Basically the Waterholes Canyon rescue went like this:

Our team leader that day was able to make voice contact with the men in the canyon and, along with other rescuers, decided on a good route to descend. They'd bring the subjects back up those several hundred feet using fixed lines, one below the other on two different anchors. This plan meant the two men down in the canyon would need to do one more 50-foot rappel to rendezvous with the hasty team, which they were equipped and very able to do, they said.

The subjects were experienced canyoneers. However, they'd gotten what they said was some bad information and had been unable to locate a particular "escape route" out of the canyon partway between the starting point at the bridge on Highway 89 and the Colorado River. They had not intended to travel the whole canyon, which would require some very long rappels further down, and they didn't have enough rope to continue to the river, where they could have been picked up by boat. Unable to safely go up or keep going down, they'd stayed put until the girlfriend of one of the men reported them overdue and the responding deputy finally made voice contact that night.  

In the end, after a two-hour operation from the time the rescuers began their descent until the three of them arrived back at the rim with the two subjects, everything went smoothly. We were packed up and on the road home by the time the strong winds reached Waterholes Canyon.

Here are some photos from the mission:

We were able to use the Polaris to haul some of the gear close to the site.

Ranger flies over the canyon, where they spot the subjects and assess the situation.

Ranger comes in for a landing near the rim of the canyon.

The helicopter pilots talks to our team about the possibility of a short haul rescue.

After a short haul is ruled out, our hasty team heads to the rim to descend to the subjects.

Phillip ties in (left) and goes to the edge to keep an eye on the rescuers and subjects below.

You can see the top of the upper fixed line on the boulder to the right.

The first subject arrives at the rim with a rescuer behind him.

Check out these photos from down in the Canyon:

Lower Waterholes Canyon

Waterholes Canyon