It's 4 a.m. We're on our way to search for a 25-year-old man named Jason. Jason decided to take his new, yellow Yamaha ATV for a spin at 1:00 this morning, riding loops around the campsite (and his wife). On one of those loops, Jason disappeared. Hmm...
In our briefing, under the heading of "Subject," we're given Jason's age, ethnicity, height, weight, and the fact that he's wearing all black clothing. It also states, "Reported to have ETOH on board." I have no idea what that is, so, going by the context, I sort of assume it's a drug. But, shame on me: I'm soon corrected when Al explains that ETOH is a fuel additive that gives the machine extra power. (I didn't know ATVs needed extra juice; they seem plenty powerful to me in their "natural state.") I'd have thought that detail would have been listed under the heading of "Vehicle," but anyhow...
We're also informed that Jason has with him a Mini-Maglite, cigarettes, and a lighter. He has no known medical conditions. I hope, given the circumstances, that that last bit of information still holds true. Darkness, trees, ditches, cinder hills, and a souped-up ATV don't necessarily mix all that well. And there's some indication that Jason may have tied one on, or at least had a few drinks, before he went for the ride. I'm thinking this isn't sounding so good.
As Al drives, I'm silently reviewing what I learned in Wilderness First Responder class about initial scene and patient assessment. This time, the blood and broken bones might be for real.
We're almost at the campsite now, bumping along a dirt road. Deputies have already been out in the area, searching, and the DPS helicopter is in the air for an "NVG" (night vision goggle) flight. But...
Oh. Never mind. Jason just walked into camp. Code 4, we hear over the radio. His ATV broke down somewhere along the power line. Well, we don't rescue ATVs, so back to The 105 to unload we go.
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Later today, at 1:00 in the afternoon as Steve and I are finishing lunch at our favorite pizza place, my pager goes off again. I call in and hear that a father and three young children got their ATVs stuck in the mud.
I hang up without leaving a message, to think this one over for a minute. So, we have to go pull them out of the mud? Do I want to do that on this lazy weekend afternoon?
Seconds later, that becomes irrelevant when my pager goes off again. 10-22. Mission cancelled. That was fast.
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At 4:50 p.m., my pager beeps for the fourth time today. By now, Steve and I are at home. I call in and Sergeant D's message says there's been a snowmobile accident with injuries, and the medics need assistance with access. He needs volunteers who can drive snowmobiles and the Thiakol. Well, I did drive a snowmobile about 12 years ago up at the North Rim. Does that count?
Probably not. We have a snowmobile training coming up on March 29th, which I'm scheduled to attend, so I guess I'll have to wait till after that. Still, I wonder if they could use my help anyway. But it doesn't matter now—a fifth page with another 10-22. What a day for some search and rescue, hurry up and wait, and cancel that!
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.
SAR Is Hurry Up and Wait... and Wait
We've been standing here for two hours—me, two other volunteers, and Sergeant D—waiting to see if this is for real.
The helicopter flew earlier this afternoon and is now returning for another pass. For maybe a minute about an hour ago, I'd been sitting on an ATV with an armed police officer on another, but just as we were about to head out, a second officer arrived, and I had to give up my wheels and go back to just standing here. Darn, I was actually looking forward to getting some ATV experience. But... oh well.
The page came at around 5 p.m., while Steve and I were hanging out at a coffee shop. Apparently, a man in the area of Flagstaff's urban trail system (FUTS), in the woods south of Butler Avenue, had fallen and broken his leg and called for help. My husband said he could use some exercise and fresh air after sitting in that coffee shop for so long, so he offered to walk home and let me take the car to respond to the SAR building directly, and I accepted. The quicker I could get there the better since it would soon get dark and the injured hiker would be lying out there in pain, waiting for rescue. Now, however, we're not so sure the caller was a hiker. Or that he is injured.
When the team and our coordinator, Sergeant D, get to the staging area near Sam's Club—not the usual sort of location for a search and rescue mission to begin—a police officer is there, with two others already in the woods. The subject had contacted dispatch at least a couple more times since the original call, and, at one point, what sounded like arguing was heard in the background. Hence, the armed officers on ATVs.
Other interesting things came out of those subsequent calls. At first, the man said he had a green tent. Then it turned red. He said he had gasoline and a lighter, but, when asked to start a small signal fire, which the helicopter could spot, he refused, saying that would "hurt nature." The man would not even give his name. Given the search area, a popular place for transients to camp in the forest close to town, we're now thinking this man, who seems unwilling to participate in his own rescue, may just be jerking us around. Someone said he sounded drunk.
We hear on the radio that officers are talking to transients in the area, trying to figure out who may have called. One man tells them he thinks he knows who it was, but that lead goes nowhere. Wrong guy.
While all of this is going on, two members of our mounted unit show up. Huh, that's kind of strange for this type of mission. But Sergeant D explains that he was having trouble getting ground-pounders to respond tonight, so he made some calls to mounted. Many of our regulars are currently on an overnight as part of the "snow and ice" technical training, and others are out of town. Assuming this was a legitimate search and rescue mission—as he always would—Sergeant D wanted to get as many people out as possible.
Time goes on, and the horseback riders finish saddling up and head out to search. One of the ATV drivers returns for rope, to help get the other ATV out of the mud. And I keep standing here. Sergeant D suggests to dispatch that an officer go to the nearby convenience store and inquire about who may have recently purchased one of those disposable, prepaid cell phones. Sometimes store clerks get familiar with transients and can identify them. By now, the other two volunteers have gone back to the truck to keep warm and maybe take a nap, but I'm too nosy. So I just stand here some more.
Eventually, the officers return from the forest and decide that enough time and resources have been spent on this mission that seems to be going nowhere, with a supposed victim who won't help us help him. So they call their boss—the Police Chief, I assume—and Sergeant D calls his, and they receive permission to suspend. Sergeant D confirms that the caller was recorded, so he can enter those conversations into the report as evidence that the subject was being uncooperative.
We can't help but wonder if he's watching us from somewhere. Was this a test? Or was this guy just messing around? In any case, we tried.
The helicopter flew earlier this afternoon and is now returning for another pass. For maybe a minute about an hour ago, I'd been sitting on an ATV with an armed police officer on another, but just as we were about to head out, a second officer arrived, and I had to give up my wheels and go back to just standing here. Darn, I was actually looking forward to getting some ATV experience. But... oh well.
The page came at around 5 p.m., while Steve and I were hanging out at a coffee shop. Apparently, a man in the area of Flagstaff's urban trail system (FUTS), in the woods south of Butler Avenue, had fallen and broken his leg and called for help. My husband said he could use some exercise and fresh air after sitting in that coffee shop for so long, so he offered to walk home and let me take the car to respond to the SAR building directly, and I accepted. The quicker I could get there the better since it would soon get dark and the injured hiker would be lying out there in pain, waiting for rescue. Now, however, we're not so sure the caller was a hiker. Or that he is injured.
When the team and our coordinator, Sergeant D, get to the staging area near Sam's Club—not the usual sort of location for a search and rescue mission to begin—a police officer is there, with two others already in the woods. The subject had contacted dispatch at least a couple more times since the original call, and, at one point, what sounded like arguing was heard in the background. Hence, the armed officers on ATVs.
Other interesting things came out of those subsequent calls. At first, the man said he had a green tent. Then it turned red. He said he had gasoline and a lighter, but, when asked to start a small signal fire, which the helicopter could spot, he refused, saying that would "hurt nature." The man would not even give his name. Given the search area, a popular place for transients to camp in the forest close to town, we're now thinking this man, who seems unwilling to participate in his own rescue, may just be jerking us around. Someone said he sounded drunk.
We hear on the radio that officers are talking to transients in the area, trying to figure out who may have called. One man tells them he thinks he knows who it was, but that lead goes nowhere. Wrong guy.
While all of this is going on, two members of our mounted unit show up. Huh, that's kind of strange for this type of mission. But Sergeant D explains that he was having trouble getting ground-pounders to respond tonight, so he made some calls to mounted. Many of our regulars are currently on an overnight as part of the "snow and ice" technical training, and others are out of town. Assuming this was a legitimate search and rescue mission—as he always would—Sergeant D wanted to get as many people out as possible.
Time goes on, and the horseback riders finish saddling up and head out to search. One of the ATV drivers returns for rope, to help get the other ATV out of the mud. And I keep standing here. Sergeant D suggests to dispatch that an officer go to the nearby convenience store and inquire about who may have recently purchased one of those disposable, prepaid cell phones. Sometimes store clerks get familiar with transients and can identify them. By now, the other two volunteers have gone back to the truck to keep warm and maybe take a nap, but I'm too nosy. So I just stand here some more.
Eventually, the officers return from the forest and decide that enough time and resources have been spent on this mission that seems to be going nowhere, with a supposed victim who won't help us help him. So they call their boss—the Police Chief, I assume—and Sergeant D calls his, and they receive permission to suspend. Sergeant D confirms that the caller was recorded, so he can enter those conversations into the report as evidence that the subject was being uncooperative.
We can't help but wonder if he's watching us from somewhere. Was this a test? Or was this guy just messing around? In any case, we tried.
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