On Wednesday night, May 18th, I was at home, cozy in my PJs and down booties as the winter-like temps in Flagstaff continued to drop after a day of freezing rain and snow. As my friend prepared to head out following our late dinner, I said, "I have a feeling it's a SAR call night." About an hour later, I texted him, "Yep, it's a SAR call night."
This would be a search in the Blue Ridge area for two overdue hikers who'd last been seen leaving their campsite at 1 p.m. earlier that day, unprepared for the cold, wet conditions. They weren't carrying any food, water, or gear other than possibly a lighter.
While 10 of us volunteers readied our gear to depart the SAR building, a second mission was brewing in the same general area, but that one was resolved before we'd finished briefing. Due to icy road conditions and numerous accidents in the area, we took the lower elevation route to our destination, towing ATVs and the Polaris Ranger. In the meantime, a team member who lives in Blue Ridge went directly to the subjects' campsite and met up with deputies and Forest Service personnel to begin searching. The weather conditions and lack of preparedness on the part of the missing hikers lent a sense of urgency to the mission. Hypothermia was a big concern, and they'd already been missing for eight hours.
When the rest of us reached the point last seen, which became our staging area, assignments were given and, two-by-two, we headed out to search. One of the teams included a K9 handler, her four area search dogs, and a backer to do the navigation, radio communication, and assist with searching while the handler worked her dogs. Another team of two took the UTV, and the rest of us went out on foot. My field partner and I were one of the teams carrying night vision goggles, and everyone had warm-up gear to help the subjects regardless of who would find them.
While no DPS helicopter was available—the Phoenix crew couldn't fly due to weather concerns, and there was no crew available from Flagstaff or Kingman—a Guardian medical helicopter came to assist with the search. They arrived on scene just as we were deploying into the field.
Not long after, my partner and I heard through the static on the radio that someone was hearing yelling. It was one of the searchers driving Forest Service roads, doing containment, who had heard the shouts. He and another volunteer in a different vehicle had been slowly driving a perimeter around the area, going in opposite directions and stopping often to make noise and then listen. The two of them had just passed one another on the road when one of them heard the voices.
Soon, two very cold, hungry, and thirsty hikers were inside the vehicle, warming up. A landing zone was located for the helicopter, and the subjects were driven to that location, where they were checked by the Guardian medic as a ground ambulance continued to their location to transport the two to Payson.
It was about 3 a.m. when the lost hikers were located, so they'd been out there for about 14 hours, during which time the rain and snow had resumed for a while. They'd apparently continued moving till around midnight, covering a pretty good distance and certainly more than they'd planned. Finally, they'd laid down between two logs, a short distance from the Forest Service road and not all that far from a highway, for what turned out to be a few more very uncomfortable, freezing cold hours.
At 7:30 a.m. on Thursday, I walked back into my house and once again changed into those cozy PJs and down booties as the wintry, wet weather continued.
See: Lost Hikers Rescued from Cold Conditions from the Arizona Daily Sun
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.
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."
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
More Lost Hikers Rescued on the Peaks
Last month, there were two groups of lost hikers on the San Francisco peaks, two nights in a row. The first group was very hypothermic when rescuers from Coconino County SAR arrived, and a teammate of mine told me he didn't think one (at least) would have survived the night. These hikers had all lost the trail and then darkness caught up with them. Good thing there's a cellphone signal up there.
At this time, the Mt. Humphreys Trail is still covered with snow in some sections and still quite deep with a lot of blowdowns, making it very difficult to follow. One of my teammates who was hiking up there recently and knows the mountain intimately helped another disoriented hiker make his way back down to the Arizona Snowbowl ski area, likely avoiding a search and rescue later that same day or night.
This past Monday night, there was another call for the rescue of yet another lost hiker on Mt. Humphreys. Using a GPS app on his phone, the Ohio man texted his coordinates to his wife back in Ohio, who then contacted Coconino County Sheriff's dispatch at around 5:30 p.m. Eight search and rescue volunteers were then dispatched to the coordinates and located the lost hiker. After helping him get warm, they escorted him down the mountain to his vehicle. He declined medical attention.
Please remember, if you're going to hike Mt. Humphreys, especially when the trail is in such "challenging" shape, carry extra layers of clothing, two light sources and extra batteries, food and plenty of water, a topographic map (Humphreys Peak Quad), a GPS (if you know how to use it), and a fully charged cellphone. Keep in mind that you'll be hiking at elevations ranging from 9,500 to 12,600 feet, which is a lot more difficult—and colder and often much windier—than hiking at sea level or even down in Flagstaff at 7,000 feet, so it will take you quite a bit longer.
For current trail conditions, contact the Coconino National Forest Ranger District at 1824 S. Thompson St., Flagstaff, AZ 86001 or call 928-527-3600.
At this time, the Mt. Humphreys Trail is still covered with snow in some sections and still quite deep with a lot of blowdowns, making it very difficult to follow. One of my teammates who was hiking up there recently and knows the mountain intimately helped another disoriented hiker make his way back down to the Arizona Snowbowl ski area, likely avoiding a search and rescue later that same day or night.
This past Monday night, there was another call for the rescue of yet another lost hiker on Mt. Humphreys. Using a GPS app on his phone, the Ohio man texted his coordinates to his wife back in Ohio, who then contacted Coconino County Sheriff's dispatch at around 5:30 p.m. Eight search and rescue volunteers were then dispatched to the coordinates and located the lost hiker. After helping him get warm, they escorted him down the mountain to his vehicle. He declined medical attention.
Please remember, if you're going to hike Mt. Humphreys, especially when the trail is in such "challenging" shape, carry extra layers of clothing, two light sources and extra batteries, food and plenty of water, a topographic map (Humphreys Peak Quad), a GPS (if you know how to use it), and a fully charged cellphone. Keep in mind that you'll be hiking at elevations ranging from 9,500 to 12,600 feet, which is a lot more difficult—and colder and often much windier—than hiking at sea level or even down in Flagstaff at 7,000 feet, so it will take you quite a bit longer.
For current trail conditions, contact the Coconino National Forest Ranger District at 1824 S. Thompson St., Flagstaff, AZ 86001 or call 928-527-3600.
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To follow up on the fundraiser for injured Coconino County Search and Rescue team member Scott Baker, held this past Saturday, I'm told more than $11,000 was raised for the Baker family on that day. Thank you to all who participated and helped make this event such a success!
Helping One of Our Own
In January, 2011, my teammate, Scott Baker, was injured in a construction accident, leaving him with spinal cord injuries and paralyzed from the waist down. As today's article in the Arizona Daily Sun says, "As a SAR volunteer, Baker spent 25 years never hesitating to get up in the middle of the night, whatever the weather, and go searching for lost or stranded people."
And I know this from firsthand experience working with Scott, who has been a great field partner to me on several missions, including one all-night search on Mt. Agassiz. It was well below zero on that winter night, when our hands would go numb the minute we'd remove our gloves to try to use our GPSes. We were struggling out there, snowshoeing through deep drifts for hours, but Scott always kept our spirits up.
In addition to being a "ground-pounder," Scott was also a member of our team's technical high-angle rescue unit.
Scott has also been a helper in ways other than his 25 years as a dedicated search and rescue volunteer. He was a 4-H parent for 10 years and helped children by maintaining equestrian equipment and a safe, happy place for kids to practice horsemanship. Scott's wife also volunteers, serving on several committees in the community.
This Saturday, the Summit Fire Department Auxiliary, the local firefighters' union, Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue, and 4-H are coming together for a fundraiser at Coconino High School to help cover some of the costs associated with Scott's long-term rehabilitation down in Phoenix and other expenses not covered by insurance. Even the wheelchair alone costs $28,000. His family has been going to visit him every week down in the valley to learn how to help him when he comes home, which is scheduled for sometime next week.
Scott Baker Fundraiser
Saturday, May 7th, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m
Coconino High School, 2701 N. Izabel St.
Chili cook-off, cake auction and silent auction raffle
Cost: $25 for chili cook-off; $5 for six raffle tickets; $10 T-shirts; $10 to taste all the chili you want.
Information: Summit Fire Department at 526-9537
And I know this from firsthand experience working with Scott, who has been a great field partner to me on several missions, including one all-night search on Mt. Agassiz. It was well below zero on that winter night, when our hands would go numb the minute we'd remove our gloves to try to use our GPSes. We were struggling out there, snowshoeing through deep drifts for hours, but Scott always kept our spirits up.
In addition to being a "ground-pounder," Scott was also a member of our team's technical high-angle rescue unit.
Scott has also been a helper in ways other than his 25 years as a dedicated search and rescue volunteer. He was a 4-H parent for 10 years and helped children by maintaining equestrian equipment and a safe, happy place for kids to practice horsemanship. Scott's wife also volunteers, serving on several committees in the community.
This Saturday, the Summit Fire Department Auxiliary, the local firefighters' union, Coconino County Sheriff's Search and Rescue, and 4-H are coming together for a fundraiser at Coconino High School to help cover some of the costs associated with Scott's long-term rehabilitation down in Phoenix and other expenses not covered by insurance. Even the wheelchair alone costs $28,000. His family has been going to visit him every week down in the valley to learn how to help him when he comes home, which is scheduled for sometime next week.
Scott Baker Fundraiser
Saturday, May 7th, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m
Coconino High School, 2701 N. Izabel St.
Chili cook-off, cake auction and silent auction raffle
Cost: $25 for chili cook-off; $5 for six raffle tickets; $10 T-shirts; $10 to taste all the chili you want.
Information: Summit Fire Department at 526-9537
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...
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| The K9s came in all shapes and sizes. Isn't she a beauty? |
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| She may be little, but she's got a great nose and work ethic. |
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| Instructors, including Coco SAR's Cindy McArthur, worked one-on-one with dogs and handlers. |
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!
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.
In addition to the two all-day GPS classes, courses offered at this year's conference included:
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| AZ DPS Helicopter Class |
- 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....
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| Art was the lead instructor for one of the GPS classes. |
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| Marty helps a student during the GPS class field exercise. |
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| Students plot waypoints on their maps, then enter them in their GPSes. |
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| Art helps a student during a GPS class. |
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| Our SAR coordinator for Coconino County presents Art with his award. |
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| Verde SAR accepts their SAR Team of the Year Award. |
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| Many different county SAR teams were represented at the conference. |
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| The Mounted SAR area, with all their horse trailers. |
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| 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!
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.
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)
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.
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.
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