I was supposed to go to a day camp with three other SAR members, to help teach kids ranging in age from five to 12 how to use a compass, what makes a "good pack" versus a "bad pack" (that is, gear you should bring on a hike versus stuff to leave at home), and how to not get lost or to "get found" if you do. We went to this summer camp last year, and our program was a hit with campers and camp leaders alike, so they'd asked us to come back.
And I was going to, until right before I was supposed to leave the house. That's when there was a call-out for a rescue, possibly technical the message said, in the Dorsey Springs area of Sycamore Canyon.
So, per the request of the deputy coordinating the mission, I bailed on my teammates going to the camp and responded to the rescue instead.
Late the night before, there had been a call-out for the search for this 41-year-old overdue hiker who now needed rescue. I hadn't responded to that call because of my prior commitment to the camp program in the morning. Apparently, this man was at least a day overdue when a concerned family member had reported him missing, and his vehicle had been located by deputies at the Dorsey Springs trailhead. Just after dawn, searchers had found him down in the canyon, severely dehydrated, weak, and disoriented.
By the time those of us responding to the rescue call later that morning arrived at the trailhead, the hiker had been hydrated and slowly walked with aid partway up the trail. At that point, the man said he couldn't walk anymore. The two deputies who were with him requested assistance and more water. Several of us hiked in with supplies to meet up with them.
When we arrived, the man was sitting under a tree. He drank some Gatorade and spoke to one of our teammates, who's a paramedic. The man said he was okay except for being dehydrated and clearly explained what had happened over the past several days. The searchers who'd found first his backpack and then, maybe a few hundred yards away, the subject filled us in on his state of mind and actions at the time he was located. He'd made quite an improvement after having something to drink and eat.
Sadly, the two dogs he'd brought on the multi-day hike—adult, black-colored boxers, a male and a female—were nowhere to be found. They'd stopped following him at least a day and a half earlier and laid down in the shade. Had they had enough left in them to find their way back to the last water source they'd been at with the man? I hoped they had. And that they'd survive long enough for someone to find them. I was preoccupied by those thoughts as I watched the short-haul procedure, when the man was air-lifted to the trailhead. He refused medical transport by the waiting ambulance.
Lessons for the day: Carry a lot of water if hiking in hot desert canyons during the summer. Hike early and hike late, and rest in the shade during the day. Know where the water sources are, and make sure they currently have water in them. Call the Forest Service or whichever agency oversees the area and check on those sources. For Sycamore Canyon, that would be:
Coconino Forest Supervisor's Office
1824 S. Thompson St.
Flagstaff, AZ 86001
(928) 527-3600
Fax: (928) 527-3620
Update: I've been told that one of the two dogs that had been lost in the canyon has been located alive and returned home. The other has not been found yet. So keep an eye out if you're down there!
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.
Showing posts with label Canyon Rescue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Canyon Rescue. Show all posts
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.
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| Joel and Mike get geared up and ready to go into the canyon. |
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| Jeff from Page Fire looks down at the deputy on the rim. |
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| Rescuers wait for word from those descending to the subject. |
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| DPS Ranger out of Tucson arrives on scene. |
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| Our team's Polaris UTV with Mattrax is very useful in this rugged terrain. |
******
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.
An Extreme, Multi-Agency Technical Rescue
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| Photo courtesy of R. Marlatt |
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!
A Busy Memorial Day Weekend for Search & Rescue and the CCSO
It was a three-day weekend with six calls for Search and Rescue that I know of.
Saturday started off with a missing person with dementia who'd walked away from a home in Junipine Estates. The SAR team was called, but the subject was located by a passerby before searchers arrived. Deputies and one SAR member went to the subject's location to extricate him from the brush where he was sitting, and he was transported to the hospital.
Then there was the call-out for a technical rescue at Mooney Falls on the Havasupai reservation. A DPS helicopter was en route when SAR was called, but it was unknown if high winds would prevent the crew from landing or doing a short haul in the canyon. So, the technical rescue team headed that way from Flagstaff as quickly as possible, although it's a very long response time for ground SAR to travel that far. Luckily, the helicopter was able to land near the falls, and the patient was loaded without any technical rescue, air or otherwise, necessary. The SAR team made it all the way to the turnoff from Seligman before they were told to turn around.
Just after refueling the SAR vehicles back in Flagstaff, the tech team was asked to head out of town again, this time to Waterholes Canyon just south of Page.
The victim had fallen approximately 100 feet and was about 500 feet below the rim. Page Patrol deputies and Page Fire Department also responded, as did DPS Air Rescue, but it was determined that a helicopter technical rescue was not possible due to extremely windy conditions.
The Coconino County Sheriff's SAR coordinator requested additional assistance from the Park Service at Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. With multi-agency cooperation, the victim and a paramedic who'd scrambled down to his location were raised to the rim, where a Classic Air Ambulance transported the patient to Flagstaff Medical Center at about 9 p.m. SAR and Page Fire personnel then assisted the uninjured members of the canyoneering party from the bottom of the canyon to the rim. The CCSO technical rescue team returned to Flagstaff again at 2 a.m.
On May 28th, while the rescue in Waterholes Canyon was underway, there was a call for a lost hiker near Ashurst Lake. A Coconino County Sheriff's Office corporal who is also an assistant SAR coordinator handled the call and conducted a hasty search. He successfully located the missing hiker.
The next morning, the Sheriff's Office received a report of an accident at Willow Springs Lake. The victim, who was still onshore at the time another canoe flipped, tried to assist in a separate boat, which also overturned. From what I heard, the victim had called for help, went under, resurfaced, and called again, then disappeared. A deputy from Forest Lakes and the Forest Lakes Fire Department responded to the scene, and search and rescue was requested to assist with the search. Our SAR coordinator arranged for the Coconino County Sheriff's Office Dive Rescue Team and members of the NPS Glen Canyon Dive Rescue Team to respond, and an underwater search was conducted into Sunday evening. The search was suspended at dark and resumed on the morning of the 30th. The missing subject was located deceased at approximately 4:00 p.m. on Monday.
Also on Monday at approximately 9:00 p.m., the Sheriff's Office received a call of separated hikers on the Humphreys Peak Trail. Deputies responded and located both parties.
These were just some of the incidents the Coconino County Sheriff's Department was involved with over the busy Memorial Day weekend.
Saturday started off with a missing person with dementia who'd walked away from a home in Junipine Estates. The SAR team was called, but the subject was located by a passerby before searchers arrived. Deputies and one SAR member went to the subject's location to extricate him from the brush where he was sitting, and he was transported to the hospital.
Then there was the call-out for a technical rescue at Mooney Falls on the Havasupai reservation. A DPS helicopter was en route when SAR was called, but it was unknown if high winds would prevent the crew from landing or doing a short haul in the canyon. So, the technical rescue team headed that way from Flagstaff as quickly as possible, although it's a very long response time for ground SAR to travel that far. Luckily, the helicopter was able to land near the falls, and the patient was loaded without any technical rescue, air or otherwise, necessary. The SAR team made it all the way to the turnoff from Seligman before they were told to turn around.
Just after refueling the SAR vehicles back in Flagstaff, the tech team was asked to head out of town again, this time to Waterholes Canyon just south of Page.
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| Waterholes Canyon |
The victim had fallen approximately 100 feet and was about 500 feet below the rim. Page Patrol deputies and Page Fire Department also responded, as did DPS Air Rescue, but it was determined that a helicopter technical rescue was not possible due to extremely windy conditions.
The Coconino County Sheriff's SAR coordinator requested additional assistance from the Park Service at Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. With multi-agency cooperation, the victim and a paramedic who'd scrambled down to his location were raised to the rim, where a Classic Air Ambulance transported the patient to Flagstaff Medical Center at about 9 p.m. SAR and Page Fire personnel then assisted the uninjured members of the canyoneering party from the bottom of the canyon to the rim. The CCSO technical rescue team returned to Flagstaff again at 2 a.m.
On May 28th, while the rescue in Waterholes Canyon was underway, there was a call for a lost hiker near Ashurst Lake. A Coconino County Sheriff's Office corporal who is also an assistant SAR coordinator handled the call and conducted a hasty search. He successfully located the missing hiker.
The next morning, the Sheriff's Office received a report of an accident at Willow Springs Lake. The victim, who was still onshore at the time another canoe flipped, tried to assist in a separate boat, which also overturned. From what I heard, the victim had called for help, went under, resurfaced, and called again, then disappeared. A deputy from Forest Lakes and the Forest Lakes Fire Department responded to the scene, and search and rescue was requested to assist with the search. Our SAR coordinator arranged for the Coconino County Sheriff's Office Dive Rescue Team and members of the NPS Glen Canyon Dive Rescue Team to respond, and an underwater search was conducted into Sunday evening. The search was suspended at dark and resumed on the morning of the 30th. The missing subject was located deceased at approximately 4:00 p.m. on Monday.
Also on Monday at approximately 9:00 p.m., the Sheriff's Office received a call of separated hikers on the Humphreys Peak Trail. Deputies responded and located both parties.
These were just some of the incidents the Coconino County Sheriff's Department was involved with over the busy Memorial Day weekend.
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.
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
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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.
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:
Check out these photos from down in the Canyon:
Lower Waterholes Canyon
Waterholes Canyon
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:
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| We were able to use the Polaris to haul some of the gear close to the site. |
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| Ranger flies over the canyon, where they spot the subjects and assess the situation. |
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| Ranger comes in for a landing near the rim of the canyon. |
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| The helicopter pilots talks to our team about the possibility of a short haul rescue. |
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| After a short haul is ruled out, our hasty team heads to the rim to descend to the subjects. |
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| Phillip ties in (left) and goes to the edge to keep an eye on the rescuers and subjects below. |
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| You can see the top of the upper fixed line on the boulder to the right. |
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| 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
A Wood-Cutting Outing Gone Bad
I don't think I'll ever be completely comfortable around helicopters. And maybe that's not a bad thing, really. I mean, you don't want to take those spinning blades lightly.
At the same time, though, it sure is fun to ride in 'em!
I got my second chance last night, on our first call-out in about a month. My pager went off at 4 p.m., just as I was getting ready for Jazzercise class. So I quickly changed from spandex tights, a t-shirt, and aerobic sneakers into long johns, fleece, coated nylon, and hiking boots. Some of which I did at a rather long red light.
This mission involved an injured man whose exact location was not yet known. "Somewhere south of Williams" was all we heard as we loaded gear—technical, medical, general, and personal—into the SAR vehicles and ATVs onto a trailer.
We had a very good turnout for this mission, which called for technical team members as well as general SAR ground-pounders. Sometimes, or perhaps I should say often, you just don't know what a mission will turn into and what search and rescue volunteers will be called upon to do.
SAR missions are dynamic, to say the least. You think you're heading into a particular scenario, then things quickly change, sometimes drastically. We're always listening to radio traffic on our way to a staging area, and we often hear of changes as we drive. And as the situation changes and develops, so too must plans for the mission.
Yesterday, on our way to Williams, where we'd meet deputies and SAR coordinators at the courthouse for a briefing, information was sketchy. It sounded like the injured man must have made a cellphone call, but for some reason, he wasn't able to give his exact location. Apparently, he'd fallen off a ledge. We knew there were canyons in the area, where he often went to cut wood, but the man's vehicle had yet to be located and there are numerous dirt roads and two-tracks around, many of which aren't on any map.
As we waited for our briefing, deputies were speaking by cellphone with a member of the injured man's family who was out looking for his vehicle, but even she was having difficulty relaying her location. Two helicopters, one DPS and the other from a contiguous county, were in the air, but they had spotted neither the victim, the victim's vehicle, nor the family member's vehicle by the time we received our assignments and headed out to do our thing.
At that time, I was assigned to an ATV team. Our goal was to find the family member and then the victim's vehicle. From there, we would hopefully be able to track him.
As the four of us on that team drove to our assigned area, I mentally reviewed ATV driving, which I haven't done once since my training back in October, the first and only time I'd ever ridden a quad. I've been assigned to do so since then, but each time, things changed and I was reassigned, usually to go out on foot or in a vehicle. And this time was no different: Things changed.
Just before getting to the point where we'd unload the ATVs, we heard that the victim's vehicle had been spotted by the DPS helicopter, in the trees just a short distance from the road we were on. And soon thereafter, they saw the injured man in a nearby canyon. He'd managed to start a fire, which was a good sign.
So things happened quickly from there. Since the subject was on the other side of the canyon, at the bottom of which was a swiftly flowing creek swollen with snowmelt, the helicopter shuttled tech team members and rescue gear to the opposite rim. Meanwhile, I helped with the roadblock (so the helo could use the road as a landing zone) and talked to the man's worried family, who'd immediately driven to our new staging area. I felt good about the situation at that point and tried to make the family feel better, too. I was relieved to see them smile a bit.
Time went on and a sunny day turned into a clear, starry, and chilly night. I was hanging out on the road, chatting with a couple other non-tech members and assuming I would stay there until the man was carried out, when suddenly I heard our field leader say over the radio, "Send Deb." That's always kind of exciting, I must admit.
Next thing you know, I'm sitting next to the helicopter pilot, looking at all those lights and gauges and gadgets and watching the ground fall away through the glass near my feet. Two more non-tech members were also in the chopper. This was to be a difficult carry-out, and more muscle was needed.
Speaking of which, I often don't feel I'm a great help on litter evacuations, though I try my darndest to pull my weight. And now that I've assisted with several of them, I do think I've become more valuable to the team. This time, though, we had to actually carry the subject in the litter because it was too steep and rugged to use the wheel. The weight combined with the crummy footing and dense brush really challenged me, and at one point, I got stuck on a bush that wouldn't give, and I nearly fell on the poor man. Luckily, a teammate quickly responded when I started to lose my balance and said, "Somebody push me into the bushes!" So I landed in the brush instead of on the patient, which I'm sure he appreciated.
Anyhow, long story shorter, with the help of some rope and a lot of muscle, sweat, and satisfying teamwork, we got our subject back up to the landing zone, where he was whisked off to an ambulance on the other side of the canyon. Two and three at a time, SAR members, a deputy, and an EMT were then shuttled back to the road, saving us a rather long and difficult hike out.
At 2:30 a.m., my sweat dry and muscles sore and with bits and pieces of bushes tangled in my hair, I arrived home, shoved my dog to the middle of the bed where she belongs, and crawled in.
Read the news story about this mission here: Injured Chino Valley man rescued after fall near Williams.
At the same time, though, it sure is fun to ride in 'em!
I got my second chance last night, on our first call-out in about a month. My pager went off at 4 p.m., just as I was getting ready for Jazzercise class. So I quickly changed from spandex tights, a t-shirt, and aerobic sneakers into long johns, fleece, coated nylon, and hiking boots. Some of which I did at a rather long red light.
This mission involved an injured man whose exact location was not yet known. "Somewhere south of Williams" was all we heard as we loaded gear—technical, medical, general, and personal—into the SAR vehicles and ATVs onto a trailer.
We had a very good turnout for this mission, which called for technical team members as well as general SAR ground-pounders. Sometimes, or perhaps I should say often, you just don't know what a mission will turn into and what search and rescue volunteers will be called upon to do.
SAR missions are dynamic, to say the least. You think you're heading into a particular scenario, then things quickly change, sometimes drastically. We're always listening to radio traffic on our way to a staging area, and we often hear of changes as we drive. And as the situation changes and develops, so too must plans for the mission.
Yesterday, on our way to Williams, where we'd meet deputies and SAR coordinators at the courthouse for a briefing, information was sketchy. It sounded like the injured man must have made a cellphone call, but for some reason, he wasn't able to give his exact location. Apparently, he'd fallen off a ledge. We knew there were canyons in the area, where he often went to cut wood, but the man's vehicle had yet to be located and there are numerous dirt roads and two-tracks around, many of which aren't on any map.
As we waited for our briefing, deputies were speaking by cellphone with a member of the injured man's family who was out looking for his vehicle, but even she was having difficulty relaying her location. Two helicopters, one DPS and the other from a contiguous county, were in the air, but they had spotted neither the victim, the victim's vehicle, nor the family member's vehicle by the time we received our assignments and headed out to do our thing.
At that time, I was assigned to an ATV team. Our goal was to find the family member and then the victim's vehicle. From there, we would hopefully be able to track him.
As the four of us on that team drove to our assigned area, I mentally reviewed ATV driving, which I haven't done once since my training back in October, the first and only time I'd ever ridden a quad. I've been assigned to do so since then, but each time, things changed and I was reassigned, usually to go out on foot or in a vehicle. And this time was no different: Things changed.
Just before getting to the point where we'd unload the ATVs, we heard that the victim's vehicle had been spotted by the DPS helicopter, in the trees just a short distance from the road we were on. And soon thereafter, they saw the injured man in a nearby canyon. He'd managed to start a fire, which was a good sign.
So things happened quickly from there. Since the subject was on the other side of the canyon, at the bottom of which was a swiftly flowing creek swollen with snowmelt, the helicopter shuttled tech team members and rescue gear to the opposite rim. Meanwhile, I helped with the roadblock (so the helo could use the road as a landing zone) and talked to the man's worried family, who'd immediately driven to our new staging area. I felt good about the situation at that point and tried to make the family feel better, too. I was relieved to see them smile a bit.
Time went on and a sunny day turned into a clear, starry, and chilly night. I was hanging out on the road, chatting with a couple other non-tech members and assuming I would stay there until the man was carried out, when suddenly I heard our field leader say over the radio, "Send Deb." That's always kind of exciting, I must admit.
Next thing you know, I'm sitting next to the helicopter pilot, looking at all those lights and gauges and gadgets and watching the ground fall away through the glass near my feet. Two more non-tech members were also in the chopper. This was to be a difficult carry-out, and more muscle was needed.
Speaking of which, I often don't feel I'm a great help on litter evacuations, though I try my darndest to pull my weight. And now that I've assisted with several of them, I do think I've become more valuable to the team. This time, though, we had to actually carry the subject in the litter because it was too steep and rugged to use the wheel. The weight combined with the crummy footing and dense brush really challenged me, and at one point, I got stuck on a bush that wouldn't give, and I nearly fell on the poor man. Luckily, a teammate quickly responded when I started to lose my balance and said, "Somebody push me into the bushes!" So I landed in the brush instead of on the patient, which I'm sure he appreciated.
Anyhow, long story shorter, with the help of some rope and a lot of muscle, sweat, and satisfying teamwork, we got our subject back up to the landing zone, where he was whisked off to an ambulance on the other side of the canyon. Two and three at a time, SAR members, a deputy, and an EMT were then shuttled back to the road, saving us a rather long and difficult hike out.
At 2:30 a.m., my sweat dry and muscles sore and with bits and pieces of bushes tangled in my hair, I arrived home, shoved my dog to the middle of the bed where she belongs, and crawled in.
Read the news story about this mission here: Injured Chino Valley man rescued after fall near Williams.
SAR Updates and Clarifications
Last night, our SAR unit held the monthly general meeting, where we discussed this past month's missions and received updated information about a high-profile mission that took place more than two years ago.
So, I wanted to share some of what we learned.
Regarding the flood in Havasu Canyon, there have been some misleading news stories floating around, not the least of which was a local Fox News report I saw yesterday afternoon, stating, "The Grand Canyon will be closed for four weeks following extensive damage caused by flash-flooding. 173 people were airlifted out of the Canyon." No, the Grand Canyon isn't closed; Havasupai is closed to tourists until further notice, but the National Park is open as usual. So if the NPS sees a sudden and dramatic decline in visitation to the Canyon, I guess they have Fox to thank for the solitude (and loss of revenue). And I believe the official number of people evacuated from Havasupai was 406. We counted names while working on the list back at the Sheriff's office on Tuesday.
We were told the Coconino County Sheriff's Office had to set up a call center, in large part due to at least one news outlet that reported a dam had broken at the Grand Canyon, and then they showed a picture of Glen Canyon Dam! People were freaking out, calling to say they had loved ones in the canyon and on the Colorado River. What actually failed was the small, earthen Redlands Dam about 45 miles upstream of Havasupai. That dam failed after days of heavy rain, up to eight inches since Friday, but the flooding in Havasu Canyon was occurring even before the dam breach.
I'm also unsure about my previous statement that two homes may have been lost in the village of Supai. While I did hear that bit of information while at Haulapai Hilltop on Sunday, other reports stated that no structures were lost, so I'll count that as rumor at the moment. Surely, many of the houses in Supai were in disrepair before this past weekend's flooding, so it's possible that even minor flooding in the village, which is higher up than the campground that was wiped out, did just enough additional damage to count some homes as "lost." But not having seen the village myself or received official word on that, I can't be sure.
So, I wanted to share some of what we learned.
Regarding the flood in Havasu Canyon, there have been some misleading news stories floating around, not the least of which was a local Fox News report I saw yesterday afternoon, stating, "The Grand Canyon will be closed for four weeks following extensive damage caused by flash-flooding. 173 people were airlifted out of the Canyon." No, the Grand Canyon isn't closed; Havasupai is closed to tourists until further notice, but the National Park is open as usual. So if the NPS sees a sudden and dramatic decline in visitation to the Canyon, I guess they have Fox to thank for the solitude (and loss of revenue). And I believe the official number of people evacuated from Havasupai was 406. We counted names while working on the list back at the Sheriff's office on Tuesday.
We were told the Coconino County Sheriff's Office had to set up a call center, in large part due to at least one news outlet that reported a dam had broken at the Grand Canyon, and then they showed a picture of Glen Canyon Dam! People were freaking out, calling to say they had loved ones in the canyon and on the Colorado River. What actually failed was the small, earthen Redlands Dam about 45 miles upstream of Havasupai. That dam failed after days of heavy rain, up to eight inches since Friday, but the flooding in Havasu Canyon was occurring even before the dam breach.
I'm also unsure about my previous statement that two homes may have been lost in the village of Supai. While I did hear that bit of information while at Haulapai Hilltop on Sunday, other reports stated that no structures were lost, so I'll count that as rumor at the moment. Surely, many of the houses in Supai were in disrepair before this past weekend's flooding, so it's possible that even minor flooding in the village, which is higher up than the campground that was wiped out, did just enough additional damage to count some homes as "lost." But not having seen the village myself or received official word on that, I can't be sure.
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Some of you may have read my earlier report called "They Call Her Cinder Hill Cindy," the name given to then-unidentified skeletal remains found on Navajo Army Depot grounds in early August, near Bellemont, Arizona. I later updated my blog with the name of the woman once a positive ID was made following our evidence search in the area and subsequent forensic testing.
Last night at our meeting, the lead detective on the case filled in some additional detail. Thirty-three year-old Julie Renee Windhorn's backpack had been found in the early spring of 2007 near Old Munds Highway by some boys looking for salamanders. In the backpack was a passport and a note with suicidal implications. An attorney from Virginia, Julie had been having some emotional and mental health issues before her disappearance, so the note did follow suit. In the backpack was also a vehicle insurance card, but Julie's vehicle has yet to be found.
At this point, the cause of Julie's death is still considered unknown, but evidence points to hypothermia. Julie's remains and her neatly laid-out clothing and ID were found about 15 miles from where her backpack was discovered a year and a half earlier. Our unit may be called out later this year, when the leaves have dropped off the thick underbrush in the area, to do another search for more bones and any other evidence that might turn up. At this point, there's no indication of foul play in this case.
Last night at our meeting, the lead detective on the case filled in some additional detail. Thirty-three year-old Julie Renee Windhorn's backpack had been found in the early spring of 2007 near Old Munds Highway by some boys looking for salamanders. In the backpack was a passport and a note with suicidal implications. An attorney from Virginia, Julie had been having some emotional and mental health issues before her disappearance, so the note did follow suit. In the backpack was also a vehicle insurance card, but Julie's vehicle has yet to be found.
At this point, the cause of Julie's death is still considered unknown, but evidence points to hypothermia. Julie's remains and her neatly laid-out clothing and ID were found about 15 miles from where her backpack was discovered a year and a half earlier. Our unit may be called out later this year, when the leaves have dropped off the thick underbrush in the area, to do another search for more bones and any other evidence that might turn up. At this point, there's no indication of foul play in this case.
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One case that did involve foul play was that of Tamomi Hanamure, a 34-year-old Japanese tourist who was murdered at Havasupai in May, 2006, the same area where the flooding occurred this past weekend. Tamomi was reported missing when a maid at the Supai Lodge discovered that the young woman's personal belongings were still in her room after checkout time and the bed had not been slept in. A search was initiated involving multiple agencies, including Coconino County Search & Rescue.
I was not yet on the team at the time of this mission, but I've heard numerous conversations about it since I joined, as well as a previous update by the FBI after the 19-year-old perpetrator's guilty plea was accepted and sentencing took place. The killer, a Supai resident, tried to be the "hero," telling authorities he'd discovered the body when in fact he'd gotten nervous seeing all the uniformed personnel and bloodhounds closing in on Tamomi's location. He somehow thought the attention would be focused on other people if it was him who led them to the victim.
An FBI dive team later located the knife used in the attack, in the water not far from where Tomomi's body was found. Testing at a crime lab also revealed that the t-shirt worn by the killer contained Tamomi's blood, though it couldn't be seen by the naked eye. This evidence, along with the killer's eventual detailed confession, resulted in four consecutive life sentences with no possibility of parole.
Last night, we saw a slideshow of the search for and discovery of Tamomi Hanamure's body. The detective said it was one of the most emotional cases he'd ever worked on, and I know it had a significant impact on my SAR teammates who participated in the mission. Tamomi was enamored with the United States and the Grand Canyon in particular. She'd been to the canyon two or three times before and this time was going to visit the waterfalls in Havasupai as a 34th birthday gift to herself. The detective told us that Tamomi was an only child and her father's world. I couldn't stop staring at her photo up on the screen, taken shortly before her hike into the canyon.
I was not yet on the team at the time of this mission, but I've heard numerous conversations about it since I joined, as well as a previous update by the FBI after the 19-year-old perpetrator's guilty plea was accepted and sentencing took place. The killer, a Supai resident, tried to be the "hero," telling authorities he'd discovered the body when in fact he'd gotten nervous seeing all the uniformed personnel and bloodhounds closing in on Tamomi's location. He somehow thought the attention would be focused on other people if it was him who led them to the victim.
An FBI dive team later located the knife used in the attack, in the water not far from where Tomomi's body was found. Testing at a crime lab also revealed that the t-shirt worn by the killer contained Tamomi's blood, though it couldn't be seen by the naked eye. This evidence, along with the killer's eventual detailed confession, resulted in four consecutive life sentences with no possibility of parole.
Last night, we saw a slideshow of the search for and discovery of Tamomi Hanamure's body. The detective said it was one of the most emotional cases he'd ever worked on, and I know it had a significant impact on my SAR teammates who participated in the mission. Tamomi was enamored with the United States and the Grand Canyon in particular. She'd been to the canyon two or three times before and this time was going to visit the waterfalls in Havasupai as a 34th birthday gift to herself. The detective told us that Tamomi was an only child and her father's world. I couldn't stop staring at her photo up on the screen, taken shortly before her hike into the canyon.
----------------------------------
Well, I do hope the next couple of days at least will be quiet ones when it comes to searching and rescuing. I absolutely love being part of the team and the volunteer work we do, but it sure seems like it's been nonstop lately following a relatively quiet July. Somehow, though, I sense that my trusty little pager is juuuust about to sing.
A Grand Canyon and Havasupai Flood SAR
What a stark contrast, going from the scene of rescue efforts at Havasupai to this little office at the apartment complex where I work two days a week. I've gone from interviewing people who'd scrambled for their lives when a wall of water came rumbling through the narrow canyon to writing up maintenance work orders for tenants with clogged toilets.
The people who were rescued, many of whom had lost everything but the clothes on their backs, and some of those in just bathing suits and bare feet were in good spirits, while today I've dealt with tenants who are cranky because the staff haven't been quick enough replacing window blinds they (the tenants) broke. Wow. What a contrast indeed.
The flooding in Havasu Canyon began on Saturday afternoon, August 16, and was still happening on Monday the 18th. Havasu is a side canyon of the Grand Canyon, located about 30 miles west of the South Rim. Havasu Canyon is part of the Indian reservation of the same name, with the small village of Supai at the bottom. The village is accessible only by helicopter or an eight-mile hiking and pack-mule trail.
About 450 out of a total of roughly 650 members of the tribe live in Supai, and their primary source of income is tourist dollars from those who visit the incredibly beautiful waterfalls and pools about two miles down canyon from the village. At this time of year, a weekend can see hundreds of visitors, as was the case this past weekend when monsoon rains caused flash-flooding, which in turn breached an earthen dam near Williams, Arizona, exacerbating already dangerous conditions in Havasu. The usually blue-green water was running brown with mud, laden with debris and boulders.
Our unit was called out on Sunday morning, August 17, along with members of the Mohave County Search & Rescue team, the National Guard, National Park Service, members of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Department of Public Safety, Red Cross, Salvation Army, and probably others I'm not aware of.
Though there are certainly common elements, each person involved in the flood has a unique story, from the more than 400 tourists and Supai residents rescued by helicopter to the pilots and crew on those helicopters to both paid and volunteer rescue personnel in and on the rim of the canyon. During my interviews, which were intended to document everyone who came out of the canyon and find out if anyone in their party was missing or if they'd seen anyone injured or swept off by the flood, I heard many of those stories.
Most told of being suddenly awakened in the middle of the night by the loud rumble of water, falling rocks, and shouting. One man told me three kids had clung to a tree for hours until they were rescued. A couple and their dog were stranded on a rock in the middle of the flood. Sixteen people from a river trip, who had stopped at the confluence of Havasu Creek and the Colorado River, had to be short-hauled off a cliff after their boats were washed away and they'd had to quickly climb to avoid the same fate. I heard that two houses in Supai were lost.
For hours, I took names, addresses, dates of birth, and other information from evacuees, often waiting while they practically inhaled some food before they'd answer my next question. The Salvation Army provided food and drinks to the hungry and parched people airlifted out of the canyon, as well as to those of us working the evacuation.
One thing I noted as I watched the activity at the "Hilltop Helispot" location on the rim of Havasu Canyon, where evacuees were first "processed" after coming off the helicopters, is that one could not differentiate between those who were paid personnel and who were volunteers. All were working with enthusiasm or waiting with good spirits between assigned tasks. And when given a new task, each person jumped to work. While there are always opportunities to learn and improve, I was really impressed with the effort and the coordination between units and by how well everyone worked together. Overall, it was a successful effort, and as far as we know, there was no loss of life from the flood.
To be sure, however, air and ground searches are ongoing. And, as of Tuesday morning, I heard that residents of Supai who'd been evacuated were being allowed to return to their village, which has sustained considerable damage. The campground has apparently been wiped out. My husband and I are going to look into how we might go about volunteering in the rebuilding efforts.
Read the latest article in the Arizona Daily Sun here: Supai flood evacuees scramble to safety.
The people who were rescued, many of whom had lost everything but the clothes on their backs, and some of those in just bathing suits and bare feet were in good spirits, while today I've dealt with tenants who are cranky because the staff haven't been quick enough replacing window blinds they (the tenants) broke. Wow. What a contrast indeed.
The flooding in Havasu Canyon began on Saturday afternoon, August 16, and was still happening on Monday the 18th. Havasu is a side canyon of the Grand Canyon, located about 30 miles west of the South Rim. Havasu Canyon is part of the Indian reservation of the same name, with the small village of Supai at the bottom. The village is accessible only by helicopter or an eight-mile hiking and pack-mule trail.
About 450 out of a total of roughly 650 members of the tribe live in Supai, and their primary source of income is tourist dollars from those who visit the incredibly beautiful waterfalls and pools about two miles down canyon from the village. At this time of year, a weekend can see hundreds of visitors, as was the case this past weekend when monsoon rains caused flash-flooding, which in turn breached an earthen dam near Williams, Arizona, exacerbating already dangerous conditions in Havasu. The usually blue-green water was running brown with mud, laden with debris and boulders.
Our unit was called out on Sunday morning, August 17, along with members of the Mohave County Search & Rescue team, the National Guard, National Park Service, members of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Department of Public Safety, Red Cross, Salvation Army, and probably others I'm not aware of.
Though there are certainly common elements, each person involved in the flood has a unique story, from the more than 400 tourists and Supai residents rescued by helicopter to the pilots and crew on those helicopters to both paid and volunteer rescue personnel in and on the rim of the canyon. During my interviews, which were intended to document everyone who came out of the canyon and find out if anyone in their party was missing or if they'd seen anyone injured or swept off by the flood, I heard many of those stories.
Most told of being suddenly awakened in the middle of the night by the loud rumble of water, falling rocks, and shouting. One man told me three kids had clung to a tree for hours until they were rescued. A couple and their dog were stranded on a rock in the middle of the flood. Sixteen people from a river trip, who had stopped at the confluence of Havasu Creek and the Colorado River, had to be short-hauled off a cliff after their boats were washed away and they'd had to quickly climb to avoid the same fate. I heard that two houses in Supai were lost.
For hours, I took names, addresses, dates of birth, and other information from evacuees, often waiting while they practically inhaled some food before they'd answer my next question. The Salvation Army provided food and drinks to the hungry and parched people airlifted out of the canyon, as well as to those of us working the evacuation.
One thing I noted as I watched the activity at the "Hilltop Helispot" location on the rim of Havasu Canyon, where evacuees were first "processed" after coming off the helicopters, is that one could not differentiate between those who were paid personnel and who were volunteers. All were working with enthusiasm or waiting with good spirits between assigned tasks. And when given a new task, each person jumped to work. While there are always opportunities to learn and improve, I was really impressed with the effort and the coordination between units and by how well everyone worked together. Overall, it was a successful effort, and as far as we know, there was no loss of life from the flood.
To be sure, however, air and ground searches are ongoing. And, as of Tuesday morning, I heard that residents of Supai who'd been evacuated were being allowed to return to their village, which has sustained considerable damage. The campground has apparently been wiped out. My husband and I are going to look into how we might go about volunteering in the rebuilding efforts.
Read the latest article in the Arizona Daily Sun here: Supai flood evacuees scramble to safety.
Woods Canyon Rescue
I had no time to get nervous. Art, our acting coordinator tonight in Sergeant D's absence, pointed at me and said, "You and Mike get your stuff together, and Ranger will take you in." For a second, my mouth dropped open—my first helicopter ride!—but I snapped it shut and went to get my gear in order.
Tonight's mission is a search for an overdue hiker in the Woods Canyon area near Sedona. This same now-31-year-old man was short-hauled six years ago by two of the volunteers on tonight's mission, both retired helicopter pilots. They tell us that the subject, Andrew, is missing part of his skull as a result of that past climbing accident. We're hoping he didn't fall sometime today and hit that vulnerable part of his head.
Andrew was supposed to have gone on a day hike, but night came and he hadn't returned. Soon after his girlfriend reported him missing, Andrew's vehicle was located here where SAR personnel have now convened to begin the search.
Tonight's search could have been a long one with so much area to cover. We first would have looked for tracks beginning from Andrew's vehicle and gone from there. But, luckily, Ranger, the DPS helicopter, was able to locate the victim. At first, the pilot radioed that he could see nothing but thick brush, but then Art suggested he fly along the rim. And, moments later, we heard the crew had spotted the subject down in the canyon. His condition, however, could not be determined, nor could the pilot or crew member tell if there would be a way to get to Andrew without technical skill and equipment. So, in the interest of time, Art has chosen me and Michael, an experienced canyoneer, to be flown in, closer to the rim, to see if we can determine Andrew's condition and a possible route to his location.
Next thing I know, I'm being led to the waiting helicopter by the crew member. He didn't have tell ME twice to stay low! I once saw an episode of ER, where a surgeon got his arm lopped off by a rotor, and it sure was graphic. So I'd have crawled on my belly if he'd let me. But all in one piece and with my pride intact, I'm loaded into the helicopter, my backpack handed in to me, and told to buckle up and put the headset on. That last instruction keeps me busy for most of the flight, and I never am able to get the thing snug on my head or the microphone in the proper position in front of my mouth.
It's an odd sensation, flying in a helicopter at night, not being able to see much of anything until we're close to the ground again and the spotlights illuminate the treetops. The flight is smooth, but just feet from the ground, we start to wobble as if the pilot has to fight to land. I'm not sure why that is, but we soon touch down, Mike and I shed our headsets and seat belts, grab our packs, and are physically whisked away from the chopper. The crew member quickly gives us directions on how to get to the rim above the victim's location, then Mike and I stay low until the noisy metal bird takes off and we can stand upright and put our packs on.
After being redirected a couple of times by Ranger, watching us from above, we find the correct two-track they'd been talking about—there are several in this area—and then find the stock tank and drainage the crew member had described. It's rough going, but we're soon on the rim of Woods Canyon, picking our way along through cactus and brush. It's a steep drop and not looking promising.
But just before we begin to call out, an excited voice comes from the darkness below. "Hey! Am I glad to see you!" Well, at least we know Andrew's alive. He's seen our lights, and we begin calling back and forth to get a fix on his location. We've overshot him and double back.
"Andrew, are you hurt?" Mike calls down.
"Well, I hit my head pretty hard! And it's bleeding."
Uh-oh. Not the head again.
"Have you lost much blood?" Mike asks.
"Well, yeah, a decent amount. I have a shirt wrapped around it."
Mike asks, "Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I can walk!"
Well, that's a plus. Mike tells Andrew to stay put, though, and we continue to look for a way down. Eventually, as I work the radio and communicate with Art back at Incident Command, Mike finds a spot where he thinks he can down-climb. He takes off his pack, and I illuminate the way as he gives it a try. I figure if Mike falls, at least I'll be in one piece up top and can call for more help.😏
But Mike makes it down the trickiest part, and from there it's not so bad, he says. I hear him calling back and forth to Andrew, and suddenly a head pops up from the brush below. Andrew has followed Mike's voice and come up to meet him. Then, with Mike carrying Andrew's pack, the two of them climb back to where I'm standing.
Yeah, Andrew is indeed pretty bloody. The t-shirt wrapped around his head is soaked through, and I see blood down the side of his face and on the back of his shirt. He looks and sounds alert, though, and despite a little wobbliness, which he claims is from fatigue, Andrew says he can walk with us. I stay close behind our subject as he follows Mike, ready to lower Andrew to the ground if he passes out. We make our way back toward the landing zone, so Ranger can pick him up.
Soon, however, we see headlights. SAR personnel have been able to drive out fairly close to the landing zone, as I've been monitoring on the radio, but they can't get all the way there; the going has gotten much too rough. And while I have the landing zone (LZ) coordinates on my GPS, and my gadget tells me the LZ is not in the same direction as the headlights, Mike thinks the lights and LZ are one and the same location. He politely vetoes my statement that the LZ is "over there" and wants to head directly for the lights, where we know for sure someone is waiting. If nothing else, he says, Andrew can be driven back to a waiting ambulance. As we move toward the vehicle, I hear Ranger on the radio, repeatedly saying we're going the wrong way, but I continue to follow Mike's lead nonetheless.
In the end, we get to the vehicle, which really isn't all that far from the LZ. Oly, one of the retired pilots, is there and, having more medical experience than the rest of us, quickly checks Andrew—more of a verbal check than physical—and then walks Andrew to the helicopter. Ranger will take Andrew directly to the hospital, while Mike and I drive out with Oly and another volunteer on the long, rough Forest Service road.
The night seems to have flown by and, thankfully, has ended well. I feel like I was more a part of the mission's outcome than ever before.
Tonight's mission is a search for an overdue hiker in the Woods Canyon area near Sedona. This same now-31-year-old man was short-hauled six years ago by two of the volunteers on tonight's mission, both retired helicopter pilots. They tell us that the subject, Andrew, is missing part of his skull as a result of that past climbing accident. We're hoping he didn't fall sometime today and hit that vulnerable part of his head.
Andrew was supposed to have gone on a day hike, but night came and he hadn't returned. Soon after his girlfriend reported him missing, Andrew's vehicle was located here where SAR personnel have now convened to begin the search.
Tonight's search could have been a long one with so much area to cover. We first would have looked for tracks beginning from Andrew's vehicle and gone from there. But, luckily, Ranger, the DPS helicopter, was able to locate the victim. At first, the pilot radioed that he could see nothing but thick brush, but then Art suggested he fly along the rim. And, moments later, we heard the crew had spotted the subject down in the canyon. His condition, however, could not be determined, nor could the pilot or crew member tell if there would be a way to get to Andrew without technical skill and equipment. So, in the interest of time, Art has chosen me and Michael, an experienced canyoneer, to be flown in, closer to the rim, to see if we can determine Andrew's condition and a possible route to his location.
Next thing I know, I'm being led to the waiting helicopter by the crew member. He didn't have tell ME twice to stay low! I once saw an episode of ER, where a surgeon got his arm lopped off by a rotor, and it sure was graphic. So I'd have crawled on my belly if he'd let me. But all in one piece and with my pride intact, I'm loaded into the helicopter, my backpack handed in to me, and told to buckle up and put the headset on. That last instruction keeps me busy for most of the flight, and I never am able to get the thing snug on my head or the microphone in the proper position in front of my mouth.
It's an odd sensation, flying in a helicopter at night, not being able to see much of anything until we're close to the ground again and the spotlights illuminate the treetops. The flight is smooth, but just feet from the ground, we start to wobble as if the pilot has to fight to land. I'm not sure why that is, but we soon touch down, Mike and I shed our headsets and seat belts, grab our packs, and are physically whisked away from the chopper. The crew member quickly gives us directions on how to get to the rim above the victim's location, then Mike and I stay low until the noisy metal bird takes off and we can stand upright and put our packs on.
After being redirected a couple of times by Ranger, watching us from above, we find the correct two-track they'd been talking about—there are several in this area—and then find the stock tank and drainage the crew member had described. It's rough going, but we're soon on the rim of Woods Canyon, picking our way along through cactus and brush. It's a steep drop and not looking promising.
But just before we begin to call out, an excited voice comes from the darkness below. "Hey! Am I glad to see you!" Well, at least we know Andrew's alive. He's seen our lights, and we begin calling back and forth to get a fix on his location. We've overshot him and double back.
"Andrew, are you hurt?" Mike calls down.
"Well, I hit my head pretty hard! And it's bleeding."
Uh-oh. Not the head again.
"Have you lost much blood?" Mike asks.
"Well, yeah, a decent amount. I have a shirt wrapped around it."
Mike asks, "Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I can walk!"
Well, that's a plus. Mike tells Andrew to stay put, though, and we continue to look for a way down. Eventually, as I work the radio and communicate with Art back at Incident Command, Mike finds a spot where he thinks he can down-climb. He takes off his pack, and I illuminate the way as he gives it a try. I figure if Mike falls, at least I'll be in one piece up top and can call for more help.😏
But Mike makes it down the trickiest part, and from there it's not so bad, he says. I hear him calling back and forth to Andrew, and suddenly a head pops up from the brush below. Andrew has followed Mike's voice and come up to meet him. Then, with Mike carrying Andrew's pack, the two of them climb back to where I'm standing.
Yeah, Andrew is indeed pretty bloody. The t-shirt wrapped around his head is soaked through, and I see blood down the side of his face and on the back of his shirt. He looks and sounds alert, though, and despite a little wobbliness, which he claims is from fatigue, Andrew says he can walk with us. I stay close behind our subject as he follows Mike, ready to lower Andrew to the ground if he passes out. We make our way back toward the landing zone, so Ranger can pick him up.
Soon, however, we see headlights. SAR personnel have been able to drive out fairly close to the landing zone, as I've been monitoring on the radio, but they can't get all the way there; the going has gotten much too rough. And while I have the landing zone (LZ) coordinates on my GPS, and my gadget tells me the LZ is not in the same direction as the headlights, Mike thinks the lights and LZ are one and the same location. He politely vetoes my statement that the LZ is "over there" and wants to head directly for the lights, where we know for sure someone is waiting. If nothing else, he says, Andrew can be driven back to a waiting ambulance. As we move toward the vehicle, I hear Ranger on the radio, repeatedly saying we're going the wrong way, but I continue to follow Mike's lead nonetheless.
In the end, we get to the vehicle, which really isn't all that far from the LZ. Oly, one of the retired pilots, is there and, having more medical experience than the rest of us, quickly checks Andrew—more of a verbal check than physical—and then walks Andrew to the helicopter. Ranger will take Andrew directly to the hospital, while Mike and I drive out with Oly and another volunteer on the long, rough Forest Service road.
The night seems to have flown by and, thankfully, has ended well. I feel like I was more a part of the mission's outcome than ever before.
A James Canyon Rescue
Imagine hiking into a quiet canyon on a beautiful spring day. Where the canyon becomes a narrow slot and the creek bed falls off dramatically into a deep, narrow pool, you set up your canvas and paints on a ledge above the water. What a perfect spot on a perfect day.
But then one bad step changes everything. You slide, then fall, 50 feet into that deep pool, where the shaded water is icy cold. The fall results in a fractured femur and ankle and possibly a broken pelvis. It's 2:00 in the afternoon, but no one is anywhere near, no one can hear you call, and the walls of slickrock surrounding the pool are sheer and impossible to free-climb even if you weren't injured. So, cold and in pain, you wait. And wait and wait for hours.
Luckily, you manage to float to the edge of the deep pool, where you find just enough of a toe-hold to keep yourself from sinking. Nightfall finally comes. You know your family knows where you've gone, and they'll eventually come looking for you. And, sure enough, in the middle of the night after three hours of searching, your father finds you and runs for help.
That's when our search and rescue team, members of Highland Fire Department, Guardian Medical, and DPS become involved in the effort to save the 20-year-old victim who's fallen into James Canyon. It's a rugged area without a trail, and a carry-out of this 270-pound young man will take hours and be a risky undertaking for both victim and rescuers. But, first, the rescuers have to figure out how to get him up, out of the cold water, and onto the ledge above.
The first call-out earlier tonight was for technical team members of our SAR unit. About an hour later, another page came, this time for additional ground-pounders to assist with the rescue, at w. I responded to the SAR building and then, along with three others, to the staging area at James Canyon.
While the three other volunteers leave the scene to retrieve drinks and food, I stay behind with the deputy and listen to the radio communication between the rescuers in the canyon below, DPS, and incident command. At 2 a.m., after a technical maneuver requiring a rather elaborate pulley system, the victim is out of the water. He's severely hypothermic, and paramedics begin trying to warm him and stabilize his injuries. I listen to all of this on the radio and piece together the bits of that communication into a mental picture of what's going on down there.
Then I hear they need IV bags and other supplies, meaning someone needs to hike down from my location. The other three ground-pounders haven't returned yet, so I get my chance to help. After my pack is loaded with the medical supplies and I'm given instructions on how to find my way to the rescuers and victim, I start out on my own.
Though usually on edge in the woods at night, adrenaline keeps my nerves at bay. The route is marked with glow sticks and flagging tape, though the tape is sometimes difficult to find after they'd run out of glow sticks to lead the way. Twice I've had to double back and search for the route while carefully watching my step and climbing over blowdowns and boulders.
After about 40 minutes, I see the light of the rescuers' fire and make my way to where the victim is lying, strapped to a backboard, wrapped in sleeping bags and blankets, and surrounded by at least 15 men including several SAR members. I hand off the medical supplies and find myself a spot around the fire.
A decision has been made by Incident Command, with much discussion between DPS, the technical rescue team, and the deputy in charge. DPS will attempt a short-haul at first light instead of rescuers trying to carry the victim out of the canyon. The injured young man, thoroughly doped up on IV pain meds, moaned in pain nonetheless when he was carefully moved closer to the fire. I can only imagine how painful a long, rugged carry-out would be. There's absolutely no way to be gentle on this kind of terrain, not to mention how difficult it would be to carry such a big guy on a level trail. That said, the young man's size and extra body fat were probably the only things that kept him alive in the icy cold water for all those hours. A smaller person probably would have succumbed to hypothermia long before the rescue.
I watch the victim as I and the others wait for daylight and the helicopter to return. A short haul can't be performed by just any pilot, but, luckily, one trained to do short hauls is available, and a deputy on scene here in the canyon is certified to be on the end of the rope with the victim. I've seen this maneuver on video but never up close and personal.
At 5:30 am, we hear the helicopter approaching and quickly secure all of the gear strewn about. It's already very cold in the canyon, but the wind created by the helicopter makes it downright frigid. I feel like I'm in the middle of an Arctic hurricane as the Bowman bag is lowered. At least rescuers are able to shield themselves and take some cover from the wind; the victim is stuck out there, strapped down flat on his back.
Then the helicopter moves away, so the victim, backboard and all, can be packaged up and he and the deputy can be readied for the short haul. Once everything is in order, the helicopter is summoned back and the rest of us move away again.
It's kind of scary yet exciting to watch. Eventually, the helicopter is directly overhead. As the deputy gives the signal that he's ready, he and the victim are lifted, spinning, out of the canyon, the deputy slightly clipping a tree on their way up. And I watch them whisked off, high in the sky, to the waiting ambulance.
It seems anticlimactic, watching the helicopter return for the cargo net full of gear, then retracing our steps the staging area. We now have somewhat of a trail to follow part of the way up, since firefighters with chainsaws worked through the night to clear a path, just in case a carry-out had become necessary. Thank goodness it wasn't!
But, wow, what a rescue. That's one lucky young man. Lucky that his family knew where he'd gone and had planned to look for him if he didn't return by dark. Lucky that he was able to find a foothold on the edge of the pool, which probably prevented him from drowning. Lucky he didn't sustain even more serious injuries from the fall or lose consciousness (which would likely have meant drowning), and lucky that he didn't have to suffer through an extremely difficult and dangerous carry-out. My role in the rescue was minimal by comparison, but I'm glad to have been a part of it and thrilled to have witnessed a life saved.
But then one bad step changes everything. You slide, then fall, 50 feet into that deep pool, where the shaded water is icy cold. The fall results in a fractured femur and ankle and possibly a broken pelvis. It's 2:00 in the afternoon, but no one is anywhere near, no one can hear you call, and the walls of slickrock surrounding the pool are sheer and impossible to free-climb even if you weren't injured. So, cold and in pain, you wait. And wait and wait for hours.
Luckily, you manage to float to the edge of the deep pool, where you find just enough of a toe-hold to keep yourself from sinking. Nightfall finally comes. You know your family knows where you've gone, and they'll eventually come looking for you. And, sure enough, in the middle of the night after three hours of searching, your father finds you and runs for help.
That's when our search and rescue team, members of Highland Fire Department, Guardian Medical, and DPS become involved in the effort to save the 20-year-old victim who's fallen into James Canyon. It's a rugged area without a trail, and a carry-out of this 270-pound young man will take hours and be a risky undertaking for both victim and rescuers. But, first, the rescuers have to figure out how to get him up, out of the cold water, and onto the ledge above.
The first call-out earlier tonight was for technical team members of our SAR unit. About an hour later, another page came, this time for additional ground-pounders to assist with the rescue, at w. I responded to the SAR building and then, along with three others, to the staging area at James Canyon.
While the three other volunteers leave the scene to retrieve drinks and food, I stay behind with the deputy and listen to the radio communication between the rescuers in the canyon below, DPS, and incident command. At 2 a.m., after a technical maneuver requiring a rather elaborate pulley system, the victim is out of the water. He's severely hypothermic, and paramedics begin trying to warm him and stabilize his injuries. I listen to all of this on the radio and piece together the bits of that communication into a mental picture of what's going on down there.
Then I hear they need IV bags and other supplies, meaning someone needs to hike down from my location. The other three ground-pounders haven't returned yet, so I get my chance to help. After my pack is loaded with the medical supplies and I'm given instructions on how to find my way to the rescuers and victim, I start out on my own.
Though usually on edge in the woods at night, adrenaline keeps my nerves at bay. The route is marked with glow sticks and flagging tape, though the tape is sometimes difficult to find after they'd run out of glow sticks to lead the way. Twice I've had to double back and search for the route while carefully watching my step and climbing over blowdowns and boulders.
After about 40 minutes, I see the light of the rescuers' fire and make my way to where the victim is lying, strapped to a backboard, wrapped in sleeping bags and blankets, and surrounded by at least 15 men including several SAR members. I hand off the medical supplies and find myself a spot around the fire.
A decision has been made by Incident Command, with much discussion between DPS, the technical rescue team, and the deputy in charge. DPS will attempt a short-haul at first light instead of rescuers trying to carry the victim out of the canyon. The injured young man, thoroughly doped up on IV pain meds, moaned in pain nonetheless when he was carefully moved closer to the fire. I can only imagine how painful a long, rugged carry-out would be. There's absolutely no way to be gentle on this kind of terrain, not to mention how difficult it would be to carry such a big guy on a level trail. That said, the young man's size and extra body fat were probably the only things that kept him alive in the icy cold water for all those hours. A smaller person probably would have succumbed to hypothermia long before the rescue.
I watch the victim as I and the others wait for daylight and the helicopter to return. A short haul can't be performed by just any pilot, but, luckily, one trained to do short hauls is available, and a deputy on scene here in the canyon is certified to be on the end of the rope with the victim. I've seen this maneuver on video but never up close and personal.
At 5:30 am, we hear the helicopter approaching and quickly secure all of the gear strewn about. It's already very cold in the canyon, but the wind created by the helicopter makes it downright frigid. I feel like I'm in the middle of an Arctic hurricane as the Bowman bag is lowered. At least rescuers are able to shield themselves and take some cover from the wind; the victim is stuck out there, strapped down flat on his back.
Then the helicopter moves away, so the victim, backboard and all, can be packaged up and he and the deputy can be readied for the short haul. Once everything is in order, the helicopter is summoned back and the rest of us move away again.
It's kind of scary yet exciting to watch. Eventually, the helicopter is directly overhead. As the deputy gives the signal that he's ready, he and the victim are lifted, spinning, out of the canyon, the deputy slightly clipping a tree on their way up. And I watch them whisked off, high in the sky, to the waiting ambulance.
It seems anticlimactic, watching the helicopter return for the cargo net full of gear, then retracing our steps the staging area. We now have somewhat of a trail to follow part of the way up, since firefighters with chainsaws worked through the night to clear a path, just in case a carry-out had become necessary. Thank goodness it wasn't!
But, wow, what a rescue. That's one lucky young man. Lucky that his family knew where he'd gone and had planned to look for him if he didn't return by dark. Lucky that he was able to find a foothold on the edge of the pool, which probably prevented him from drowning. Lucky he didn't sustain even more serious injuries from the fall or lose consciousness (which would likely have meant drowning), and lucky that he didn't have to suffer through an extremely difficult and dangerous carry-out. My role in the rescue was minimal by comparison, but I'm glad to have been a part of it and thrilled to have witnessed a life saved.
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