Climb On!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Rescue Crews Save Freezing Homeless Man

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

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

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

Time to Learn Some SAR Ops

Now that I'm in my fifth year with Coco SAR, I'm eligible to begin training for SAR ops (ops = operations). I'm pretty excited about this because I love that part of search and rescue. I look forward to helping with things like mapping out and planning a search, allocating resources and personnel, directing SAR members as they show up for a mission as to what needs to be done and what gear needs to be loaded, and assisting with whatever else the coordinator might need when preparing for a mission.

On Tuesday, March 13–15, I'll be taking the Intermediate Incident Command System (ICS) class, which will cover topics such as transfer of command, unified command functions in a multi-jurisdictional or multi-agency incident, ICS forms, resource management, inter-agency mission planning and procurement, and ICS staffing and organization to include reporting, working relationships and information flow.

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The way it's working these days with our team is that, when the coordinator is contacted about a SAR call, he'll do some initial investigation and then, if necessary (depending on the type of mission it is), call out just those members qualified to help with operations. Whichever "ops leaders" are available at that stage respond to the SAR building to assist. Then, when ready, the coordinator will do a general call-out for the rest of the team, just the technical rescue team, or even specific members with specific skills as the situation may warrant.

Other than the paid coordinators, SAR ops folks are all volunteer members of team. Many are also members of the tech team, and one or two are mounted unit members. Some of those who help with ops have been on the team for many years—more than 25 years in one case—and have taken many different operations courses. I'm looking forward to that type of training, myself.

Sometimes, ops leaders and the coordinator are able to resolve a situation, often with the help of deputies on scene or over the phone with a lost subject, before a general call-out is made, so other volunteers are able to keep doing what they're doing (like sleeping, for one thing) and don't know about the situation until it's discussed at a monthly meeting. It's amazing how many times the coordinator has been "just about to push the button" for a general call-out when the subject has been located or assisted back to safety or a known location by phone. That saves the rest of us a lot of interrupted activities and unnecessary responses. Saves money too, not to mention time for the person/s who needed help in the first place.

Want to know more about Incident Command System training? These classes are part of FEMA's National Incident Management Training Program. Visit the FEMA NIMS Training site.

A Joint Technical Rescue Training with Border Patrol

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Getting some good shots of the system.

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

A rescuer is sent out over the canyon.

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

A Training Hike & Abandoned Camp in West Fork Canyon

There are certain places within the county that our team is called to time and time again, and over time, patterns begin to emerge. People tend to get into pickles often in the same places and under similar circumstances. So it's a good idea for those in search and rescue to familiarize themselves with these popular "people-in-pickles" spots, so when we're called upon to go find the lost and assist the injured, we know what we're getting into and where we're going.

I'd never hiked into West Fork Canyon from the top, so this training hike was a good opportunity for me to check it out. Four of us, led by assistant SAR coordinator Dave, who's very familiar with the area from many years of exploring by foot and flying over it as a helicopter medic, would hike and boulder at least 2.5 miles to the junction of West Fork Canyon and Casner Cabin Draw.

This is a place where hikers often go astray when thru-hiking West Fork from below. Many of those hikers don't carry maps and end up going up Casner Cabin Draw instead of West Fork. In Casner Cabin Draw, they come to a choke stone and can go no further. Then they're confused, tired, and darkness overtakes them in the rugged canyon. Eventually, they're reported overdue by a friend or family member when they fail to show up by the expected time (and often much later), and then SAR gets a call-out.

In addition to familiarizing ourselves with the canyon, we had another job to do on this training mission: We'd be investigating an abandoned campsite that had been spotted first by air during an earlier mission and then briefly checked by two SAR volunteers who'd later hiked in that same night to locate five overdue hikers (with no connection to that campsite).

It was a warm morning, but I resisted the urge to zip off the bottom halves of my convertible pants. I knew the canyon would be thick with vegetation, and there would be plenty of blowdowns to crawl under and over. And I was right. Had I been wearing just the shorts, I would have gotten even more scratched up.

The going was slow, not only because of the absence of trail, the countless opportunities to sprain or break an ankle, and the heat, but also because the canyon is so beautiful. We kept stopping to look around and appreciate how pretty it is.

As we hiked further, the canyon narrowed and the walls went higher. Wildflowers were blooming, hummingbirds were buzzing, and one pretty snake (non-poisonous) slithered past us after we disturbed its snooze in the shade of a rock. We saw bear scat but no bear. Dave told us about hiking this canyon with his dad when he was a boy. He also told us how he and a friend carried out (without a litter, so literally carried) another friend who became seriously ill on their hike.

Some pics and then more story...

As we went, we'd periodically pause to guess where on our topographic maps we were. We'd all look around at the terrain and compare it to the contours on the map, then point out our guesses to Dave, who'd guess as well. Then I'd map the coordinates from my GPS and see who'd come closest. It was a good exercise and a fun challenge. It was also fun to get it right!

After maneuvering our way through a section of large boulders, we came to the junction of the two canyons, also the location of the abandoned campsite. To me, it looked as if a party of as many as three people had decided, hey, let's try this backpacking thing, gone to Walmart and bought tents, sleeping pads, and other not-so-pricy gear, some of which was more suited for car-camping than backpacking, and set off on their first overnight hike. Then, after struggling through that rugged canyon with all that stuff on their backs, including some new clothes and new shoes, decided the next morning that all that schlepping wasn't as fun as they'd expected. So, they took only the bare minimum for the hike out and left the rest in the canyon. They'd left yucky garbage, deodorant, and cologne behind, too.

We interrupt this story for more pics...

We packed out their trash, usable and not.

At that point, we considered whether to add about 2.5 more miles to our already five-mile round-trip hike to go up Casner Cabin Draw to the choke stone. But the thunder was rumbling loudly by then, and it was already later than we'd anticipated, so we decided to head back.

It was a great day and a useful reconnaissance mission. The next time we get a call for overdue hikers in West Fork, I'll know more than just the first few easy miles from the bottom.

And in other Coconino County Search and Rescue news...

I received a mission report from my teammate, who responded to the call for a litter evacuation of an injured hiker on the Humphreys Trail. He wrote:

"I left at 6:30 am this morning to get a backpacking permit at the Grand Canyon, then proceeded to do a 5-mile day hike on the Hermit trail. About 30 minutes after I got back, there was the call-out for the Humphreys litter carry. I responded directly to Snow Bowl [with another team member], and we both were transported by the Snow Bowl UTV to the trailhead. By this time, [a second call-out was made]. We arrived at the patient, and eight rescuers including a young hiker who volunteered to help, and Flag Fire and Guardian personnel 200 yards beyond the sign-in box. [The patient] was already packaged in their litter and was in obvious pain with an injured arm and ankle due to a fall. I called [our coordinator], who had not yet arrived on scene, and let him know we had it covered, and we slowly brought [the patient] down, stopping to administer Morphine 3 times. We loaded her on the back of the Snowbowl UTV and steadied the litter as it drove down slowly. When we got back to the parking lot, there were more than 6 SAR members waiting.  Fortunately it was a short rescue, because I was pretty worn out."

A Train Derailment, A Training Day, and a Trail Wreck

It was just a typical 24 hours (actually, more for some folks) in Search & Rescue ... not that much of anything about SAR is typical. You never know what you're going to see or hear when that email/text message/phone call comes in.

On Friday evening, May 13th, my phone beeped, and when I retrieved it from my pocket, "train derailment" were the words that popped out at me. Reading the full text message, I learned it was a freight train that had derailed north of Williams, Arizona, with a possible serious HAZMAT situation. Search and Rescue was requested to shuttle HAZMAT techs to the site over very rough roads. (See the location of the derailment on Google Maps.)

Six or eight SAR volunteers were needed but 15 called in to help. We loaded some equipment, including the Polaris Ranger UTV, and headed to the site, upwind of the derailment in case there were any noxious fumes coming from the HAZMAT materials. (Thanks to our Coordinator for thinking of that!)

Just after we turned off the highway, we saw several RVs. People were camping in the area for the spring season turkey hunt. But it wasn't a rafter of wild turkeys that gave them a rude awakening—it was a railroad crew with very big, very bright lights, which I assumed would be transported to the derailment to illuminate the area. Those lights were all on next to the RVs when search and rescue headed out. I guess they were testing them before hauling them in.

As it turned out, the "nasty" stuff on the train—a sodium hydroxide solution—was intact, so crews were able to make their way to the site of the 15-car derailment from the downwind side, which was passable for their vehicles. Apparently, it was corn syrup, concrete, and beer cars that had overturned. I heard that at least one car had gone over a 120-foot cliff. Wonder how that happened.

A few hours after the call-out, SAR members were headed back home.

The next day, it was training from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. for me and the rest of the technical rescue team out at Volunteer Canyon, a few hundred feet deep at the end, where we were practicing tandem systems on either side of the canyon. (Wish I had photos for you, but my hands were pretty tied up most of the time. Here's a picture of the canyon, though, which looks like it was taken right where we were practicing.)

During one rotation, I was the subject and rappelled down to a ledge where I made myself comfortable (relatively speaking) and waited for a teammate to be lowered to pick me off.  Believe it or not, I actually enjoyed being suspended over a long way down.

Happily, the rather complex maneuver, with main and belay lines attached to the subject (me) and my rescuer from both rims, was a success, and the two of us were safely transplanted back on top. It was a productive day for the team and good to be back on the ropes after months of alpine training through the winter.

But the day wasn't quite done for some tech team members. As soon as we'd refueled the vehicles and then unloaded equipment back at the SAR building, our coordinator called, saying there had been a mountain bike accident on the Schultz Creek Trail. I was already late for another commitment so I couldn't respond, but several others quickly reloaded gear and headed to the scene. Coconino County Search & Rescue assisted Summit Fire and Guardian with what FlagScanner described on Twitter as "a very technical rescue of an injured adult female ... at the Schultz Creek Trailhead."

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See the latest post from SAR Stories News: Search & Rescue Blogs and Mission Episodes / Also: Update on the Search for Abisha

AZ K9 SARCON: Search and Rescue Dogs Come to Flagstaff

This year for the first time, the Arizona K9 SAR Conference was held here in Flagstaff, hosted by our own Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue team. More than 50 dogs and their handlers came from around the state and other parts of the US to learn from expert instructors and from one another during this four-day event.

Classes included:

• Air Scent K-9 Fieldwork
• Trailing Dogs Fieldwork, Introduction to Scent Theory
• Scent Dynamics
• Forensics/Decomposition
• Human Remains Detection/Fieldwork
• Pheromonal Communications
• Helicopter Safety for Search and Rescue Canines
• ROC and Triangulation Techniques
• Field First Aid for K-9s
• Human Bone Identification
• Working K-9 Health Issues

I'm not a K9 handler, but I really enjoyed helping out with this conference for a couple of days, "getting lost" for the dogs to find, and at times just observing. I found the advice and tips the instructors gave the handlers fascinating, including suggestions for how to correct certain behaviors (both their own and the dogs'), overcome challenges, and build on the dogs' natural instincts.

Alerts, motivation, and rewards were often the focus during field work sessions, as well as training techniques and reading the dogs' signals. I loved watching the handlers communicate with their canine partners and especially enjoyed seeing the fun the dogs had. To them, searching is a game with a prize at the end.

As the "subject" of dozens of searches, I saw and felt lots of pink tongues and wet noses up close and personal and handled quite a few gooey toys and hotdogs.

This excited four-legged SAR volunteer has located me, run back to get Mom and lead her to his find...

The K9s came in all shapes and sizes. Isn't she a beauty?

She may be little, but she's got a great nose and work ethic.

Instructors, including Coco SAR's Cindy McArthur, worked one-on-one with dogs and handlers.

See more of my photos and videos from the 2011 AZ K9 SARCON

My Third Arizona SAR Conference

Once again, it was a fun and informative long weekend. At this year's Arizona SAR Conference, held every 18 months in Heber, I helped teach the GPS courses. I also had time to attend a class.

AZ DPS Helicopter Class

In addition to the two all-day GPS classes, courses offered at this year's conference included:

• Alternative Navigation
• Map & Compass
• Tracking
• Basic and Advanced ATV and UTV Operation classes
• New Search & Rescue Technology
• Swiftwater Awareness
• PLB/ELT Direction Finding
• Amateur Ham Radio
• Wilderness First Aid
• Search Area Segmentation

There was also a class about the AZ DPS helicopter, a demonstration by the USAF 305th Rescue Squadron, and a schedule of classes for those in Mounted Search & Rescue.

Among the awards given out at the conference were the Arizona SAR Team of the Year award, which went to Verde SAR from Yavapai County. And congratulations to my teammate, Art Pundt, for receiving SAR Volunteer of the Year!  

Here are some more photos from the conference....

Art was the lead instructor for one of the GPS classes.

Marty helps a student during the GPS class field exercise.

Students plot waypoints on their maps, then enter them in their GPSes.

Art helps a student during a GPS class.

Our SAR coordinator for Coconino County presents Art with his award.

Verde SAR accepts their SAR Team of the Year Award.

 

 

Many different county SAR teams were represented at the conference.

The Mounted SAR area, with all their horse trailers.

USAF 305th Rescue Squadron

 

 

 

Buried Alive on Purpose (Me, That Is)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some Climbing Fun for the Tech Team

On the second Saturday of each month, our technical rescue team gets together for a regularly scheduled, all-day training. This is in addition to other random trainings throughout the year, such as ski lift evac training at Arizona Snowbowl, avalanche courses given by the Kachina Peaks Avalanche Center, and foul weather navigation. 

For November's regular training, one of our team leaders decided that we should celebrate our recent success in the Mountain Rescue Association rock rescue test by doing some climbing instead of training per se. So, we headed out to the Mt. Elden climbing area for some fun. It was my first climbing experience.

For a new climber like me, those are some pretty big walls...

Being a Saturday with mild weather, we had plenty of company on the cliffs, including a class from Northern Arizona University...

Okay, here are a couple shots of me. How's my form? (Don't answer that.) I even once used my face, but, hey, I didn't fall onto the rope until I was ready to come down. Not that I'm going to tell how far up I got. 😉

Would you believe me if I said I was 100 feet off the ground here?

Mountain Rescue Association Tests: One Down, Two To Go

Our team has decided to apply for membership in the Mountain Rescue Association (MRA). The MRA is made up of mountain rescue teams from around the country and has strict requirements for membership. The teams make up the association rather than individual members.

To become accredited by MRA, a team has to pass three different field tests based on guidelines established by the association. The tests are conducted on appropriate terrain in the team's home area by at least three current MRA teams working together to evaluate the applicant group that's being tested. The tests include high-angle rescue (rock rescue), ice and snow, and wilderness search. Accredited teams must retest every five years to maintain their accreditation.

From the MRA website: 

"The Mountain Rescue Association ... was established in 1959 at Timberline Lodge at Mount Hood, Oregon, making us the oldest Search and Rescue association in the United States.With over 90 government authorized units in the US, Canada and other countries, the MRA has grown to become the critical mountain search and rescue resource in the United States.

"Because MRA teams are test-qualified by their peers, local, state, and federal agencies feel confident about working with them on search and rescue operations."

Our team was very happy to pass the first of three tests: Wilderness Search. It was run like any real search operation that's gone beyond the hasty search phase. In this case, the hasty phase was verbalized by our coordinator as all participants and evaluators gathered around the command trailer for the briefing. As usual, searchers were given packets with information about the missing subjects, maps of the area, the weather forecast, and safety and communications information. When all field teams had their assignments, we headed out to do what we always do... except, this time, we were being watched and evaluated and had to answer evaluators' questions as we worked.

All in all, the mission went really well. Teams located most of the clues that had been placed in the rather large search area, and we located both subjects, one of whom required medical evaluation and care and a litter evacuation to an imaginary waiting ambulance. The other subject, who was mobile, was found by one of the containment teams driving Forest Service roads.

At the end of the mission later that afternoon, evaluators met privately to discuss the operation and how we did, then came over to our waiting group to give us feedback and announce that we'd passed. Yay!

And now for test number two, rock rescue, in October. So, that means extra practice for many of us on the technical rescue team. Here's Patrick practicing a mid-face litter scoop in the SAR building (without the cliff face, that is):

The rescuer gets the injured victim into the "tuxedo" to protect his spine.

The rescuer maneuvers the patient into the litter.

Tah-dah! Ready for raise.

 In other Coconino County SAR news, our team was involved in a body recovery below Midgley Bridge in Sedona. See: Midgley Bridge Suicide Briefly Closes 89A.

Back From Ropes That Rescue

 

And, boy, am I ready for a full day at home in my PJs. Seven 10- to 12-hour days of rigging, rappelling, raising, and a lot of learning has left me tired, bruised, sore (from packing in and out heavy loads of gear and tweaking muscles in ways they aren't used to), punctured (with cactus spines), exhilarated, and much more educated about tech rescue than I was a week ago. 

Being an instructor-level course, it was a real challenge for me, but I've brought back a significant number of new tricks and skills and a much greater awareness of what's possible in the world of rigging and rope rescue.

In addition to all of the hands-on work, the class went into the physics behind anchors and pulley systems. I may not remember all of the details, but that information definitely gives me a better idea of why things work they way they do, not to mention what doesn't work and why certain setups would be dangerous.

Needless to say, the class was amazing. And so were my fellow students and the assistant instructors, who were also there to learn. All were very supportive, patient, and helpful to me when I occasionally (okay, frequently) got frustrated. At the same time, they encouraged me to venture outside my comfort zone and push myself.

I didn't go over the edge nearly as much as other participants, though, since I wanted to concentrate on rigging and belaying, which are skills I'll use with my own team more often than not at this stage.

If you'd like to see more (and larger) photos from the past week, see Ropes That Rescue Rigging Class Photos: Sedona, Arizona.