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

Thank You, Coconino County Board of Supervisors

At our monthly general team meeting in April, Sheriff Bill Pribil announced that the Coconino County Board of Supervisors approved a $280K expenditure for completion of the administration area of our new Search & Rescue building. This will include offices, a kitchen, a conference room, municipal water, and bathrooms. (Yay! No more port-o-potty in the middle of winter! Changing into mission clothes in there was a real drag.)

The Sheriff said this funding is due to all the missions our team of volunteers responds to, including large incidents like the Schultz fire and resulting floods in the Timberline, Wapatki, and Doney Park areas.

Additional funds will be needed to complete parts of the bay area of the building where all of our equipment, SAR vehicles, and supplies are stored, including another bay door and the mezzanine. We're also hoping a technical rescue training area, including a climbing wall, will eventually be part of the facility.

The Sheriff's Department is also working on a plan to get the outside parking area paved before the monsoons so it won't be a mud pit again, with the hope that that project will be completed this summer.

Thanks again, Board of Supervisors!

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

 

 

 

SAR Guilt -- Two Missed Missions

It's been three and a half years since I joined the team. During most of that time, I rarely missed a mission, unless I was out of town or otherwise really tied up with something else. All told, I've put in more than 1,000 hours of mission time plus trainings, meetings, conferences, and other SAR events and activities.

These days, though, it's a little tougher for me to respond to call-outs due to my elderly mom's medical and mental health issues, with me being her primary caretaker, and other commitments I've had lately. The last several months have been quieter on the call-out front than most of my time with the unit, but I've had to miss a number of those missions. And it bothers me.

There was a call-out last night, in fact. The phone awakened me after I'd fallen asleep on the couch. I don't remember what time it was, but it was fairly late, and I was really tired. Contemplating, I listened to the call-out message, looked at the call-out text, and then read the call-out email. Should I go? I agonized for several minutes more, as I listened to wind whip around the house. Should I stay? What about the things I had to do in the morning? What if the mission weren't over by then? Even so, I might get little to no sleep before I'd have to take care of tomorrow's commitments. Finally, I decided, albeit reluctantly, not to respond. It was a call to search for two lost hikers on the peaks.

Missing this mission made me feel guilty, more so because I'd had to skip another one just the night before for two more lost hikers on the peaks. I don't know anything about either search because I haven't yet talked to any teammates who were on them, and I've seen nothing in the newspaper. I wonder what happened and how long the team was out there. Maybe it sounds silly, but it bugs me when I can't participate.

At 11:11 p.m., I'm wondering if there will be another call-out tonight. If so... I go!

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.

Just Your Average Christmas Eve (in SAR)

At least telling people I went out to help look for an arm makes for a good ice-breaker at social gatherings. Don't you think?

I really shouldn't give the details about this particular arm—whose it was, why it was out there—but, basically, this was the result of a homicide earlier this year. And by the time authorities knew where exactly to look for the body, it had been scattered by coyotes. So that's why the arm was still missing.

And that's why I got a call from our K-9 team leader, asking if I'd come along as a backer for one of the handlers. Each dog/handler/backer team would have an 11-acre segment to search, making tight grids back and forth since the dogs would be looking for something potentially as small as a finger bone.

When the three handlers, three backers, and six dogs rendezvoused at the SAR building on the morning of Christmas Eve, I just had to ask. "So, if they (law enforcement) got the rest of the body, then... well... why do they need the arm?"

They didn't, really, I was told. This was more of a training for the dogs, handlers, and backers. Of course, if we found what we were searching for—the arm or some bones thereof—we'd mark it, call it in to the detective, and he'd come collect the remains. But as far as the case against the person who (I guess I'm supposed to insert the word "allegedly") committed the crime, these bones would not be necessary evidence. I'd think a find would, however, mean something to family of the deceased.

So, we did our best, making our grids as tight as possible given the obstacles—the pinion–juniper, rocks, cactus, and the mud. And, wow, was it muddy. I felt (and looked) like I had 10 pounds of clay mud caked on the bottom of my boots. I had mud up the front and back of my pants. I was slipping and stumbling like I was drunk, which was really draining. I think it even wore on the dogs after a while. But they and we kept working through all that mud and other obstacles until we'd completed our search areas.

Unfortunately, we didn't have a find, but the dogs alerted on the spot where the body had previously been found, even though it had been quite some time since it had been removed. So, we knew they were working and doing what they'd been trained to do.

What a Strange Mission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, so...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the young man replied, "Down."

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

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

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

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

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

He also looked very familiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hunters Lost

It's been a common theme lately with our call-outs: hunters lost or reported overdue. It's usually been late at night or duing the wee hours of the morning and a good distance from our SAR home base in Flagstaff.

But the volunteers have responded, getting out of their warm beds and going out into the cold nights to search and rescue. At least, that was plan on several recent occasions. I've been able to respond to only one of these calls, in part because I've been away at a Ropes That Rescue class for a week (more on that later), but I've gotten the scoop from teammates.

The missions have gone something like this...

Overdue hunters on horseback, not dressed for the conditions. SAR is called, drives to the search area a few hours away, and arrives just as the three subjects are spotted by the helicopter.

Overdue hunters again. SAR responds. The helicopter spots the subjects, and SAR waits at the building for about an hour in the middle of the night until it's confirmed the lost have been retrieved.

Hunter is reported overdue near Happy Jack. SAR is called, drives an hour or so. Hunter is found at the first campsite SAR checks.

Lost hunters south of Williams, Arizona. They walked away from their truck but couldn't find their way back. So, SAR responds just after midnight and arrives on the scene just after the pair are spotted and retrieved by helicopter. One of them isn't feeling well and, after being flown to the road, climbs into the waiting ambulance for treatment as SAR turns trucks and trailers around and heads home. (I responded to this one and got back into bed six hours after getting out of it, just as the sun was coming up.)

Overdue hunter near Long Lake. SAR is called around 2:30 a.m. The team is ready to deploy from the building when our coordinator receives a call: The helicopter has spotted a campfire. SAR waits at the building until it's confirmed that the hunter and his horse have been found and rescued.

Well, such is SAR sometimes. But the next time could very well be one of those times when the team saves a life. You just never know, so you go when you can.

**********

Alpine season is back, and the San Francisco Peaks are getting whiter, so our technical team will be training accordingly. In the spirit of the season, this is the "mountaineering bible" members of our team are reading and reviewing...

Mountaineering: Freedom of the Hills

"Since the publication of the first edition in 1960, Freedom, as the book is known, has endured as a classic mountaineering text. From choosing equipment to tying a climbing knot, and from basic rappelling techniques to planning an expedition, it is all here in this essential mountaineering reference. A team of more than forty experts, all active climbers and climbing educators, reviewed, revised, and updated this compendium to reflect the latest evolutions in mountaineering equipment and techniques. Major updates include a significant new chapter on conditioning, plus detailed and extensive revisions to rescue and first-response, aid climbing, and waterfall and ice climbing."

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?

A Technical Rescue in Waterholes Canyon

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

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

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

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

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

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

Basically the Waterholes Canyon rescue went like this:

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

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

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

Here are some photos from the mission:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Check out these photos from down in the Canyon:

Lower Waterholes Canyon

Waterholes Canyon