Navigation Boot Camp & SAR News

First, a quick update: At the end of my last post, just as I was typing my final sentence, my pager went off. It was a call-out for a lost hiker in the Happy Jack area, which is approximately an hour outside of Flagstaff. Turned out to be one of those load up, drive, turn around, and unload missions. Air rescue located the lost woman, and then a deputy on the ground retrieved her before our team had left town. The only real excitement that night was that we witnessed part of a meteorite event, with reports coming into dispatch from all over the area, and it's possible one or more pieces hit the ground. We even heard air rescue say they'd been blinded by one of them.

(There's more "in the news" news at the end of this post, if you don't feel like reading my ramblings.)

Anyhow, this is day one of the three-day navigation "boot camp" our team is sponsoring, with members of other agencies along with some of our own teammates in the class. I was asked to be an assistant instructor, particularly during the field sessions or if someone needs one-on-one help during any of the classroom exercises.

Today's topic is alternative navigation (navigating without a compass or GPS), and tomorrow is map and compass. Sunday's class will be GPS.

Here are a few photos from today's class, and I'll explain what they're doing:

Instructor Art from our team jumped ahead with the curriculum at the beginning of the class, to get right to determining direction from the sun. He did this because the sun was fading fast as the day clouded up.

Above, you see students measuring one hand's width, starting from the sun's current location at the outer pinky edge of the hand to find due (true) south at the end of a comfortably extended thumb. It was around 11:30 a.m. at the time, and here in Flagstaff the sun is roughly at due south at 12:30 (though the actual range is between 12:15 and 12:40pm, depending on the time of year). So, being about one hour before "due south time" and each hand width being 15 degrees, or one hour of time in the sky, they measured one hand to the west. If it had been an hour past due south time or 1:30pm, they would have measured one hand width the other way, to the east.

Once the students each determined true south, they were able to then orient their map (being sure to turn it so the bottom of the map was facing south, rather than turning the top—map north—toward the south by mistake.

Once oriented, they could then determine a direction of travel by placing a pen on the map, one end on their current location and other other pointing toward their destination. (In this case, the latter was a random location for demonstration purposes.) Facing the body in direction of the pen, they would then be able to walk while keeping the sun in the same location relative to their body, at least for a time (because the sun moves... or the earth does relative to it, that is).

Without gadgetry, one could use various other methods of alternative navigation in conjunction with the map to travel to a particular point, comparing actual terrain to the features on the map, using terrain handrails, catch features, check points, and so forth. The key would be knowing your current location and finding it on the map to begin with.

A little later in the class, Art discussed and then demonstrated how one can determine distance traveled, both by time and by pacing. In this photo above, students are counting paces over a distance of 100 feet, then repeating the process twice more and averaging their results. A single pace is either left-right-left=1 pace or right-left-right=1. In general, an adult takes 18 to 20 paces per 100 feet, or 1,000 paces per mile over "average" terrain. Go downhill and pace will lengthen. Uphill and pace will shorten. Of course, as Art explained, there are errors to these things, but those errors can be reigned in by using other techniques and information on the map.

One case where it would be helpful to have some kind of distance estimate would be when traveling across relatively flat, featureless terrain in the dark and the falling snow. In a scenario like that, it would be a good idea to have an idea of how far you've traveled in the event that the GPS you have malfunctioned. Some people prefer to use time to judge distance, but then you do have to account for any stops and know your average speed.

To keep track of distance by pacing, you can always keep ranger beads on a string or compass lanyard, moving one bead per 100 feet, or you can pick up a pebble or something similar every 100 feet.

So, that's a little of what went on in today's class, along with discussion about map reading, celestial navigation, and techniques for using terrain to one's advantage. This evening, the class will go out to the field to practice, taking turns using alt. nav. skills to move from point to point, partly in the daylight and then extending past dark.

Also, on other "in the news" notes, here are some links to articles about folks who are still missing and some who've finally been found:

Backpacking Light Editor Missing After A.T. Hike — An ongoing search in Virginia along the Appalachian Trail

Body of missing hiker found near Goblin Valley — About a woman who disappeared in the Canyonlands area of southern Utah five months ago

Canyon crews search for 3 missing in Colorado River — In Grand Canyon National Park (This just happened yesterday, and there's still no further news that I've found.)

And this is a REAL old one: A Mystery of the West is Solved — Remains of Everett Ruess found!

Guess What I Got (And Training & News Too)

Heh heh, a new toy! Yep, now I can be a pest and take pictures—video too—of all things SAR. (Added later: This was a bit before cell phones had good cameras or maybe any cameras.) I'm photographically challenged, but I'll do my best to add some pizazz to my babbles from here on out with some images, though I'm sure, at times, it won't be possible—or right—to take pictures while on missions. Here, look, I think I figured out how to point and shoot:


That's the team, getting ready for some training earlier today, on line search and probability of detection. We had a good turnout—15 of us, I believe, including four from mounted with their horses.


Here's how it worked:

Yesterday, our team captain and other volunteers set up the course. They put out a bunch of five-gallon buckets, all painted brown to blend in with the surroundings. These buckets were spread out among the ponderosa pine, which is fairly open terrain but still littered with forest debris, rocks, and stumps, the latter resembling the buckets (or, rather, vice versa).

Behold Nelson and a bucket...


Today, we split into teams of three or four and, team by team, determined our critical spacing. That means an object roughly the same size as what we'd be looking for (in this case, it was an identical brown bucket) was set on the ground, and each person walked away from it to the point where they could still see the bucket and identify it as a bucket. We then counted our paces from that point back to the bucket. The average of each team's results was the critical spacing used for that team's line.

Now, using critical spacing usually means each person is twice that measured distance from the next searcher. That way, if the object is exactly between two people, it could still be seen. Critical spacing is affected not only by the size of the object—which, of course, could be as big as an unresponsive person or as small as a bullet—the terrain, the amount of brush, the weather, and so forth. Given the conditions and size of the objects today, our team's critical spacing turned out to be 30 paces, or roughly 90 to 100 feet, which meant searchers could be 60 paces, or about 200 feet, apart.

Given the size of the search area, however, and the number of people in our lines, we spread out at half critical spacing, or 30 paces apart (except for the mounted folks, who went two at a time, 60 paces apart). We all had radios in order to communicate rather than shouting down the line. We'd say, "Team 1, stop" or "Team 1, start," stating our team number first because there were other teams in the field, to start and stop our lines moving forward at intervals.

This photo shows the distance between me and my next teammate in the line, while another teammate paces off to his spot further out.


So, okay, each time a team member spotted a bucket, they would stop the line without pointing to the sighted bucket and write down the GPS coordinates of their current location, the direction of the bucket from their location using positions on a clock, and then their approximate distance from that bucket.

Sometimes, when the line stopped, other team members would spot the same bucket. Other times, the line would start up again, only to be stopped one step later when someone else spotted that or a different bucket. So it was stop and go, stop and go. We didn't know until we finished how many buckets were in the field.

I know, this sounds awfully thrilling, doesn't it? But I enjoy searching, not to mention the company of my teammates, and this was like a treasure hunt to me. It was also good practice for staying in our grid, keeping an eye on the person to our right and maintaining our spacing. That's much more challenging in more variable terrain and denser brush than we had today, though.

After the exercise, we all gave our notes to our coordinator, who's going to do some calculations and explain the results at our next meeting. Until then, I'm not really sure what kind of POD information he'll give us, but I'll let you know when he does.

So that was today's event. That and playing with my new camera and getting some news. Members of our team, along with the adjoining Yavapai County SAR team and others, have been searching on and off for more than two and a half years for a plane that disappeared in the Sedona area. That plane, flown by William Westover, a private pilot from Phoenix, with his passenger Marcy Randolph, has been found in a canyon in the Secret Mountain Wilderness. Here's the article from the Arizona Daily Sun: Plane wreckage identified.

Oops! There goes my pager! Gotta run...

Those Wonderful Search & Rescue Dogs

This past weekend, I was fortunate to meet some members of the Maricopa County K-9 posse, also known as MarK9, and their wonderful dogs.

We do have a couple of search dogs on our own team—Cassie, our ground-tracking German shepherd, and Scout, an air-scenting brown Lab—but it's always a treat to meet others and see how they work.

Since Cassie joined our team about a year and a half ago, I've read some about SAR dogs, and I'm really interested in what they can do and how they're trained, though I doubt if I'd ever make that big commitment to become a handler. For one, I currently have a much-loved pup of 11 years, who'd not take kindly to sharing my attention. And once Sassy is no longer with us, I think it'll be a while before my husband and I own another dog (update: that turned out not to be true). Not with my plans for future multi-month thru-hikes and our intention to travel as extensively as possible. Someday, I'm sure we'll have another dog, but whether I'd want or be able to put in the time necessary to properly train a search and rescue canine would remain to be seen.

Anyhow, during our fieldwork this weekend, I enjoyed watching how each dog alerted differently during exercises. Some would bark, one would do circles (wing-dings, I call them), and another, a Weimaraner, basically body-checked her handler. They'd get so excited when it was time to work, which was usually communicated by their handlers putting certain collars, often with bells, or working-dog vests on them.

Also fascinating to me are the various commands and signals that pass between handlers and their dogs. For instance, one handler, Terry, explained to me that there's a difference between the command they give for a live person search and a search for a cadaver, and the dogs actually understand that difference. She explained that the dogs are "proofed" for certain animal bones so they ignore those of deer, elk, and other animals that aren't human. Terry and the others were gracious in answering the many questions my teammates and I pestered them with throughout the day.

Besides the treat of watching the dogs, it was also great to meet members of another SAR team as we sometimes do during big, multi-agency missions and at conferences. I enjoy learning about how they do things—sometimes quite differently than our own team—and what kinds of searches and rescues they've been on lately. I never get tired of the stories.

That's one reason I've put together the Search & Rescue Stories website, where I collect firsthand accounts by rescuers and the rescued and keep directories of websites for SAR teams around the world. I also participate on the SAR-L Discussion List, with topics ranging from techniques, training, and management to SAR tips, gear, news stories, and more. You can find a list of additional search and rescue online forums on my website in the "Articles & More" section.

Anyhow, other than some trainings lately, a litter-carry call that I hear was mostly handled by emergency medical personnel who were notified and quickly responded to the scene, and one 10-22'd call-out for a lost hiker who showed up just as we were loading gear at the SAR building, it's been relatively quiet for the past few weeks. Next weekend is the POD (probability of detection) and line search training, and then the three-day navigation "boot camp" begins on May 1st. The warming weather makes these activities much more enjoyable.

Rock Rescue Academy

That time of year is drawing near: Rock Rescue Academy will begin in one month, and this time around, I'm going to jump in. I'm a little jittery about it, though. Will I be able to learn the skills well enough? Will I be able to keep up? There are some very experienced, fast, and strong men in the group and one other woman who certainly fits that description. Many of the skills are new to me, and I've never been particularly quick at picking up such hands-on things like knot-tying, for one. I'll need to practice—often.

So, what is the Rock Rescue Academy? Well, it's the basic training course—a series of classroom and field sessions over about a month's time—that anyone who wants to become a member of the technical rescue team (TRT) must successfully complete.

The TRT is a subset of our general SAR team, and those particular members are expected to respond as often as possible to call-outs for technical missions. The TRT responds to incidents generally beyond the capabilities of the rest of the membership, such as high angle and high alpine rescue and missions that take place in difficult terrain, which means these volunteers are sometimes exposed to additional risk. This is why the TRT meets and trains on a monthly basis, and each person on that team must prove their competence with the skills annually to maintain membership.

Last year, I don't believe there were any new recruits to the TRT. Although I'd considered it, I ultimately felt I wasn't ready—that I needed more time to practice and get comfortable with the basics of SAR before taking on more technical skills. This year, I know I'm more capable and ready to give it a try, and I hear that several other general members, also known as ground-pounders, will be joining me in the tech academy for the first time.

Those of us interested in being tech team members have already received a list of special gear we'll need. That list includes:

• Commercially sewn seat harness
  
• Commercially sewn chest harness or webbing for a chest harness
  
• 6-inch locking carabiners
  
• Climbing helmet
  
• Descender
  
• 8mm Tandem Prusik set
  
• Various lengths of Prusiks with a diameter no less than 6mm
  
• Two 1" multi-loop straps (or daisy chains) approximately 5" long
  
• Sturdy footwear (boots, not trail runners)
  
• Leather gloves
  
• Headlamp
  
• Trauma sheers or knife

Given that I own only two of those items and don't even know yet what some of the others are, I'd better get on the stick and start doing my homework... and spending money. I also need to step up my fitness training in preparation for the "3 miles in 45 minutes with a 45-pound pack" test (just in case).

Well, I'm out the door in a few minutes to meet a teammate. He and I are setting up a GPS field course for the upcoming three-day "navigation boot camp" our team is running for other agencies at the beginning of May. Perhaps this is also the time I should upgrade from my beloved 10-year-old GPS to a fancy-dancy new model. Oy, more money heading out the door, too.

An Ongoing Mystery

If I'd taken one, I'd show you a picture of all the vegetation that came out of my hair following our latest search—not only the pinon/juniper/ponderosa pine salad that collected around the shower drain the night I returned but also the pile of twig bits I assembled on my desk the next day. Long hair and SAR just don't mix very well.

Anyway, it was another bushwhack, this time in the area where the ATV belonging to Mark Russell Irby was found about a week and a half ago. As you might recall, Mr. Irby went missing on January 2nd from Forest Lakes, when he went out for "just a short ride" around the subdivision before he and his wife were to return to their home in the city. But Mark Irby never did return, and after a 10-day search, neither he nor the red Bombardier ATV he'd been driving had been located. Not until a couple of hunters stumbled upon the ATV earlier this month, well outside of the original search area.

This time, I participated in the "Irby search, Part 2," on two days, the first being a hasty search when the ATV was retrieved and then a full day, which included efforts by two counties, mounted units, K-9 teams, ATV riders, and ground teams. My field team was assigned to search a canyon. I took center position along the bottom, while Mike and Larry and Larry's chocolate lab Logger (or maybe it's Lager?) covered the flanks.

At first, the going was rather easy. We spread out a bit, keeping one another in sight, and slowly made our way along what began as a gently sloping drainage, scanning the ground and trees for anything out of the ordinary. We kept an eye out for clothing or perhaps even bones that weren't clearly those of an animal. We checked clusters of rocks and beneath bushes, being as thorough as we could.

Then the canyon began to deepen, and eventually my teammates were high above me and often out of sight, with steep, brush-covered walls on either side of me. At times, we were out of voice contact too, as the vertical distance between them and me grew into the hundreds of feet, so we resorted to communicating by radio as I periodically plotted our progress on my map and relayed to IC that we were Code 4 (okay) and our approximate location in our search segment. Eventually, though, I was too deep in the canyon to make radio contact with base, so my teammate on the rim above me relayed the messages.

At one point, I thought I might have to backtrack in order to ever exit that canyon. I'd come to a bit of a climb and, though Mike had found a place to make his way down to the bottom to join me and successfully negotiated the tricky spot, my arms and legs just weren't as long as his and I was having trouble finding good hand- and footholds that I could reach. So I walked back and forth, looking for an adequate spot to climb and finally gave in to handing my pack up to my teammate to make things a little easier.

"You think you might be able to brace yourself to give me a wrist?" I asked Mike as he stood looking down at me. I don't like to ask for help, but I figured it might speed things up—a lot.

Mike wedged his foot against a dead but sturdy tree and reached for my arm. It wasn't pretty, let me tell you, and I ended up in the dirt, but needless to say I made it with my teammate's assistance and we continued on.

As the canyon bottom gradually rose to rejoin the rims, so too did my radio make contact again with the others in the field. Teams were spread out all over the new search area, doing a good job of covering the 10 segments from morning till late afternoon. But, as far as I know, nothing of particular interest was found, and the mystery surrounding Mr. Irby's disappearance continues.

Missing Boy Found

Yesterday, having just returned from a 17-hour round of searching for the missing 7-year old, I saw an update on Twitter from a Flagstaff news reporter that Michael Sandoval had been found and was in good condition. What a relief!

Check out this news story with videos from Channel 3, including a video of Michael explaining how he survived the cold night alone, wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. Apparently, he slept in the open, which was surprising to me; I'd assumed a child would be more likely to tuck himself under a tree or in some more protected spot, partly out of fear and also to keep warmer. Not so in this case.

I also read in the Arizona Daily Sun report that Michael saw and heard searchers (us) on Monday night but didn't call out because he got scared.

I'm still waiting to learn where exactly Michael was found. I'll be curious to know if my teammate and I were near, because we did drive slowly through several open areas, calling, honking (we were afraid the siren on the Sheriff's vehicle would frighten him, so we didn't use it) and searching with the spotlight. I always like to know where a lost person is eventually found and, if possible, the route they took to get there.

Three Ongoing Searches

This is one of them, as reported on the Arizona Daily Sun website this afternoon:

7-year-old boy missing near Red Mountain

"A 7-year-old boy who was on an outing near Red Mountain with a group from The Guidance Center in Flagstaff has been reported missing.

"According to information from the Coconino County Sheriff’s Office, Michael Sandoval has been missing since about 3 p.m. Monday in the Red Mountain area off Highway 180 about 30 miles north of the city. He was part of a group of three adults and 10 clients from TGC. He was last seen wearing a black ball cap with an image of a white bear in the front, a medium to dark blue shirt with the word 'baseball' on the front in white letters. He also was wearing blue jeans and skateboard shoes.

"Search and Rescue crews on the ground and an Arizona Department of Public Safety helicopter crew have been searching the area.

"Anybody traveling on Highway 180 in the area of Red Mountain are asked to watch for the missing child and to contact sheriff’s officials if the boy is sighted by calling 774-4523 or 1-800-338-7888."

I just got home after being relieved by a fresh team after 17 hours in the field, from 5:45 p.m. yesterday till 11 a.m. today. I'm punchy from lack of sleep, not to mention very concerned for the little boy. My partner and I called his name throughout the night, searching along a network of dirt roads while other teammates searched on foot and ATVs. Our canine unit was on scene, too.

We'd discovered some tracks thought to belong to the boy and were following them when our crew of bleary-eyed searchers were relieved by fresh eyes this morning.

Also in today's edition of the Arizona Daily Sun was this news about the continued search for Mark Irby, which began on January 2nd of this year:

ATV belonging to missing man found

"The recent discovery of the ATV belonging to a Valley man who went missing from his Forest Lakes vacation home earlier this year has reignited the search for the man.

"According to information from the Coconino County Sheriff's Office, on Saturday, two men on a hunting and fishing trip found the red Bombardier ATV belonging to Mark R. Irby abandoned off Forest Service Road 170, about a mile southeast of Chevelon Canyon Lake and about 12 miles by road from Irby's cabin. Irby, 51, was last seen riding the ATV on Jan. 2. According to family members, Irby was going to take a short ride around the subdivision before returning to his primary home in Chandler. He was not dressed to hike or spend an extended amount of time in the woods, which had a deep snow pack at the time.

"On Sunday, police and search and rescue volunteers began combing the area where the ATV was found and intensive search efforts will continue throughout the week. Searchers had not previously covered the Chevelon Canyon Lake area.

More than 1,800 hours have been invested in the search for Irby."

I participated in this ongoing search on Sunday and would have been back at it today had the call not come in for the missing child yesterday afternoon, which kept me out all night.

Meanwhile, we've yet to find the man from the van abandoned along Interstate 17 near the scenic vista south of Munds Park.

Nine contiguous days of search and rescue activity for our team... and counting. And not so long ago, I'd remarked about how quiet it had been for more than a month.

Now off to the shower and to squeeze in some errands before an early bedtime. I have a feeling our pagers will be going off today for more searching tomorrow.

Update at 12:50 p.m.:
I just found out via Twitter that the boy has been found! Sounds like he's okay. At 12:47 @FlagstaffNews posted: "Searchers found 7-year-old boy who spent night in forest after getting separated from group yesterday. He's being checked out now."

And a few minutes later, this breaking news story showed up on the Arizona Daily Sun website: Searchers Find Missing 7-Year Old Boy. Phew!

Five Out Of The Last Seven Days

That's how much I've been on SAR missions lately. And I could be back out there today too, but I've decided to take a "day off" and catch up on some other business. If there's searching to do tomorrow, though, I'll be going.

You know, sometimes I look around at my teammates, working hard at their assignments and giving their all in the field, and think to myself, wow, they don't have to be out here. Search and rescue isn't a job for us; we're volunteers. But you wouldn't know it if you saw the effort these folks put in. I'm truly inspired by their dedication, and I feel that way, too. When our pagers go off or the phone rings and we're asked to respond, it doesn't matter that we're not paid for this. SAR is rewarding and satisfying.

But it can be very frustrating too. We want to find who, and sometimes what, we're looking for. Day after day of searching but finding nothing—not even a clue—turns me into a redundant rambler. My poor husband, he has to listen to me say things like, "It just doesn't make sense; that person has to be out there," or "Where could they be?" as I make him look at maps with me. I'm fortunate, though, that Steve is truly interested and understands when I get hung up on an unresolved mission.

And we've had a couple of those lately, including the man from the van. I was out there helping search for him for four days, doing my best to look under every bush and tree while trying not to twist my ankle or trip on the rocks and keeping an eye on my teammate to my right or left as we did grid searches. It's one thing to do that in an open field, but staying in line and on track over rugged terrain and through dense brush is certainly a challenge. I appreciated the great work my team leaders did during those assignments, not only searching and navigating but keeping an eye on the rest of us and keeping us in proper formation at the same time. I most definitely learned some things and think I improved my grid search skills this past week.

Well, it's time to trade my pajamas for spandex and a cotton tee and head to Jazzercise. I'm still trying to lose some pounds off of me and up my fitness level in preparation for that "3 miles in 45 minutes with a 45-pound pack" test for the technical rescue team. Then, after an hour of aerobic dancin', it's back to this chair for several hours of work. Part of my mind, though, will be on my teammates in the field today. I do hope there will be some news.

The Mystery Of The Man With The Van

I wish I could share anything and everything about our SAR missions, but legally and ethically I shouldn't. So I always re-read what I write here and reluctantly delete some details. Suffice it to say, this one was (or, rather, is) another puzzler.

A van sat abandoned along the freeway near a scenic overlook. Items found in the unlocked vehicle prompted many questions, and those of us searching on the first day of the mission contemplated possible scenarios. Why did the subject park here? What was going on with him at the time? Where the heck did he go? We came up with quite a few answers, some rather creative.

Meanwhile, my three teammates and I spread out for a grid search, keeping each other in sight through the pinion-juniper and thick underbrush as we stumbled over loose rocks and squished through the mud. We searched along the nearby cliff band too, carefully peering over the edge. We thought we were going to find the man from the van not all that far from the road.

But we didn't find a thing, so our coordinator did a call-out for the next day. I wasn't able to go back out to search—Mom's needs took precedence—but a teammate told me nothing turned up on Tuesday, either. My friend said she'd walked about five miles, zigzagging across her team's assigned segment. She said she was exhausted.

At least I know it wasn't just me. I mean, it wasn't mountaineering, but somehow I was more spent after that search than I usually am when we're on the peaks. Something about that rocky and muddy ground and climbing over barbed wire fence all afternoon really ate through my energy reserves. Not to mention that I hadn't eaten much before, and nothing during, the search. Silly me.

So, we'll see what happens with this mystery. Today, though, we're heading out for an evidence search connected with a bank robbery. Apparently, the suspects were caught along with the cash, but there's still something out there that law enforcement would like to have. So, if you happen to see a bunch of people in yellow shirts walking in a grid down the middle of a highway, that may just be us.

No Map, No Clue

 It's 10am, and my face is just about thawed out. But when I got off that machine at 5:00 this morning, I couldn't feel my nose, and my mouth wouldn't work well enough to say, "Whoo-ee! That was colder'n a witch's..." Well, anyway.

I got that ATV ride in after all, and there was no getting around it this time. Actually, it even bordered on fun. I mean, why not get out of bed in the middle of the night and freeze your face, hands, and other poorly protected body parts off while noisily riding around on Forest Service roads? Beats sleeping in a cozy, warm bed anytime. (Not!)

But at least I got over my growing phobia about those machines and now know I can hop on any time I'm assigned to an ATV team. I shouldn't go a year and a half without riding now that I'm in SAR, and we do use the quads quite a bit. I've gotten used to driving the Polaris Ranger UTV, but that's quite a different ride. More like a little car than how the ATVs feel.

Anyhow, the call-out was for four lost young adults (local college students, I believe), who'd parked their vehicle just off a main road at about 9 p.m. yesterday and went on foot in search of the Lava Cave (or "Ice Caves" as the deputy was referring to the place last night), which is a mile-long underground tube, basically. From where the "kids" (I'm almost at that age where I can say that about college students) had parked, the Forest Service access was too snow-covered to drive, and the road was gated and closed.

Normally, it should have been something like a three-mile walk. That is, if they'd had a map. Instead, the foursome probably walked eight or 10 miles before they finally decided to call for help at around 11:45. By then, they were exhausted, cold, and thoroughly lost. Luckily, just as with the injured woodcutter night before last, one of them had a lighter and was able to start a small campfire to keep them warm-ish.

Unlike the night before last, however, we didn't have the help of a helicopter, so a deputy started driving around out there, periodically running his siren, while two of us volunteers and a coordinator from SAR were on our way. The deputy did have cellphone contact with the subjects, so that was a big help in figuring out their approximate location. Eventually, they reported hearing the deputy's siren in the distance, which narrowed things down even more.

My teammate and I got to the staging area at around, oh, 3 a.m. I guess, unloaded the two ATVs we'd brought along, strapped our packs and, just in case, our snowshoes onto the quads, and took off to find the foursome. We went in from a different direction than they had, where the roads were more passable. Still, the deputy got his pickup stuck more than once in the soft snow and mud.

After riding several miles while I glanced side-to-side looking for the flicker of a campfire and sniffed at the cold air for any hint of smoke, Al and I spotted a flashing light ahead. Moments later, four figures with that stiff, hands-stuffed-in-pockets, chilled-to-the-bone stance converged around my teammate. I pulled up alongside him, and immediately one of the young men came over to shake my hand. They thanked us profusely more than once.

So all was well that ended well. Al buried the small campfire in dirt and snow, and we waited for the deputy and our coordinator to make their way, spinning and sliding, to our location.

On the ride back to the Sheriff's office, once we'd loaded the ATVs at the staging area where we'd dropped the trailer, I heard comments from the back seat along the lines of "man, I'll never do that again" and "I'm never going out there without a guide." I wanted to turn around and say, "You would have been okay if you'd had a map and known how to read it," but I held my snarky tongue. They were nice "kids," and I'm sure they didn't need me to tell them what their mistake was.

A Wood-Cutting Outing Gone Bad

I don't think I'll ever be completely comfortable around helicopters. And maybe that's not a bad thing, really. I mean, you don't want to take those spinning blades lightly.

At the same time, though, it sure is fun to ride in 'em!

I got my second chance last night, on our first call-out in about a month. My pager went off at 4 p.m., just as I was getting ready for Jazzercise class. So I quickly changed from spandex tights, a t-shirt, and aerobic sneakers into long johns, fleece, coated nylon, and hiking boots. Some of which I did at a rather long red light.

This mission involved an injured man whose exact location was not yet known. "Somewhere south of Williams" was all we heard as we loaded gear—technical, medical, general, and personal—into the SAR vehicles and ATVs onto a trailer.

We had a very good turnout for this mission, which called for technical team members as well as general SAR ground-pounders. Sometimes, or perhaps I should say often, you just don't know what a mission will turn into and what search and rescue volunteers will be called upon to do.

SAR missions are dynamic, to say the least. You think you're heading into a particular scenario, then things quickly change, sometimes drastically. We're always listening to radio traffic on our way to a staging area, and we often hear of changes as we drive. And as the situation changes and develops, so too must plans for the mission.

Yesterday, on our way to Williams, where we'd meet deputies and SAR coordinators at the courthouse for a briefing, information was sketchy. It sounded like the injured man must have made a cellphone call, but for some reason, he wasn't able to give his exact location. Apparently, he'd fallen off a ledge. We knew there were canyons in the area, where he often went to cut wood, but the man's vehicle had yet to be located and there are numerous dirt roads and two-tracks around, many of which aren't on any map.

As we waited for our briefing, deputies were speaking by cellphone with a member of the injured man's family who was out looking for his vehicle, but even she was having difficulty relaying her location. Two helicopters, one DPS and the other from a contiguous county, were in the air, but they had spotted neither the victim, the victim's vehicle, nor the family member's vehicle by the time we received our assignments and headed out to do our thing.

At that time, I was assigned to an ATV team. Our goal was to find the family member and then the victim's vehicle. From there, we would hopefully be able to track him.

As the four of us on that team drove to our assigned area, I mentally reviewed ATV driving, which I haven't done once since my training back in October, the first and only time I'd ever ridden a quad. I've been assigned to do so since then, but each time, things changed and I was reassigned, usually to go out on foot or in a vehicle. And this time was no different: Things changed.

Just before getting to the point where we'd unload the ATVs, we heard that the victim's vehicle had been spotted by the DPS helicopter, in the trees just a short distance from the road we were on. And soon thereafter, they saw the injured man in a nearby canyon. He'd managed to start a fire, which was a good sign.

So things happened quickly from there. Since the subject was on the other side of the canyon, at the bottom of which was a swiftly flowing creek swollen with snowmelt, the helicopter shuttled tech team members and rescue gear to the opposite rim. Meanwhile, I helped with the roadblock (so the helo could use the road as a landing zone) and talked to the man's worried family, who'd immediately driven to our new staging area. I felt good about the situation at that point and tried to make the family feel better, too. I was relieved to see them smile a bit.

Time went on and a sunny day turned into a clear, starry, and chilly night. I was hanging out on the road, chatting with a couple other non-tech members and assuming I would stay there until the man was carried out, when suddenly I heard our field leader say over the radio, "Send Deb." That's always kind of exciting, I must admit.

Next thing you know, I'm sitting next to the helicopter pilot, looking at all those lights and gauges and gadgets and watching the ground fall away through the glass near my feet. Two more non-tech members were also in the chopper. This was to be a difficult carry-out, and more muscle was needed.

Speaking of which, I often don't feel I'm a great help on litter evacuations, though I try my darndest to pull my weight. And now that I've assisted with several of them, I do think I've become more valuable to the team. This time, though, we had to actually carry the subject in the litter because it was too steep and rugged to use the wheel. The weight combined with the crummy footing and dense brush really challenged me, and at one point, I got stuck on a bush that wouldn't give, and I nearly fell on the poor man. Luckily, a teammate quickly responded when I started to lose my balance and said, "Somebody push me into the bushes!" So I landed in the brush instead of on the patient, which I'm sure he appreciated.

Anyhow, long story shorter, with the help of some rope and a lot of muscle, sweat, and satisfying teamwork, we got our subject back up to the landing zone, where he was whisked off to an ambulance on the other side of the canyon. Two and three at a time, SAR members, a deputy, and an EMT were then shuttled back to the road, saving us a rather long and difficult hike out.

At 2:30 a.m., my sweat dry and muscles sore and with bits and pieces of bushes tangled in my hair, I arrived home, shoved my dog to the middle of the bed where she belongs, and crawled in.

Read the news story about this mission here: Injured Chino Valley man rescued after fall near Williams.