From "disaster response" (700) to a search (200).
This time, we were called out on a straightforward, find-and-escort mission. It felt great to be able to help someone out of a pickle after the disastrous mid-air helicopter collision of a couple of days earlier. By sharp contrast, this was a search for an out-of-towner on a day hike who had misjudged how long it would take to walk out and back on Sedona's Huckaby Trail, and when darkness overtook her, lost her way.
Without any light source, it was impossible for the unequipped hiker to navigate the rough terrain. Lucky for her, she not only had a cellphone signal but one bar of battery left, and she was able to call her husband. Her husband called for help, and soon afterward, my pager went off as I was lying in bed, unable to sleep anyway.
While Al, John, and I prepared our equipment at The 105 (SAR building) and waited for further instructions, we monitored radio traffic and knew DPS Ranger was in the air. The helo crew weren't having any luck locating the lost hiker, but with cellphone contact, the deputy at the trailhead was able to determine where she was in proximity to the helicopter. Also, she was able to hear the deputy's siren, she said. So we knew she couldn't be all that far from the trailhead.
It was about an hour's drive from The 105 to the trailhead, not to mention a short detour when our coordinator, who was in the vehicle ahead of us, made a traffic stop when he suspected a DUI. (Turned out the driver was texting, causing him to swerve. We'd pulled over to wait for Sergeant D to finish that bit of business before continuing to follow him to our destination.)
It must have been about 11:30pm by the time Al, John, and I hoisted our packs, carrying extra food, water, and a flashlight for the hiker, who apparently didn't have any gear with her at all.
I was a bit surprised the situation hadn't been resolved before we arrived, but the lost hiker's husband was waiting at the trailhead parking lot, very happy we were finally there. As we three searchers moved along the trail, I called the subject's name and blew my whistle periodically, and each time, we'd stop for a long moment to listen. We walked for about 20 minutes without any response, which again was somewhat of a surprise. On the other hand, the trail does veer sharply in one direction and then switch back the other way, so I figured maybe we'd moved away from the subject's position far enough that she couldn't hear us.
Turns out that was indeed the case. When the trail switched back and we'd traveled just as far in the opposite direction, my shout received a response out of the darkness. "Over here!" yelled a rather happy-sounding lady. We told her to stay put, and we continued to call back and forth to get a handle on her location.
A few minutes later, we found the hiker, who was about 15 feet off the trail, in the brush. She was in good condition and very good spirits, and as we escorted her back to the trailhead and her family, she asked question after question about search and rescue and seemed delighted to hear some stories. (No one mentioned the helicopter crash, though; we kept it to tales with happy endings.)
At 2 a.m., I signed out back at the SAR building and headed home. Falling asleep was not a problem when my head hit the pillow about half an hour later.
These are my stories as a volunteer member of the Sheriff's Search and Rescue team in Coconino County, Arizona. I'll share what it's like to go from a beginner with a lot to learn to an experienced and, hopefully, valuable member of the team, as well as the missions, training, and other activities along the way.
