Today, ten SAR volunteers—four ground-pounders and six from the mounted unit—are participating in a mock search in the Gray Mountain area north of Flagstaff. The scenario: three hikers who'd been returning to their vehicles each evening after hunting for petrified dinosaur dung all day (a little humor there because, you see, SAR folks do have funny bones) have been missing for two days now. They're experienced hikers but aren't carrying provisions for staying in the field overnight.
At the start of the mission, the deputy acting as incident commander divides us into teams of two and gives us our assignments. We're also provided maps with search sectors drawn in and briefings about the three subjects we're looking for, including their shoe sizes to aid in tracking.
Despite the fact that this is a mock search, I'm just as eager to find the three missing hikers, who happen to be two SAR volunteers and the wife of a deputy, as much as I would be if this were real. At the same time, I'm feeling more bold in testing my skills—navigation, radio communication, tracking, and so forth—than I might if this were an actual mission. In a real situation, I'm still tentative, not wanting to make a mistake, to say something awkward on the radio, or to have to ask more experienced team members too many questions. So I'm just as motivated today but not as inhibited.
During this mock search, I'm leader of Ground Team 2 since I do seem have more search and rescue skills than my partner. I drive while also handling most of the radio communication and navigation. I have a chance to make certain decisions that I'd otherwise defer to a more experienced companion. We have a lot of area to cover for a relatively small number of people, and I do my best to scan the open countryside, sometimes using my binoculars, and look for clues in my immediate surroundings. There's a lot of desert grassland, valleys, and mesas to search, but that wide open area is deceiving; there are innumerable nooks and crannies that can hide a person from view.
Several hours go by. One subject is found, sitting behind a rock on an open ridge, where you'd think a person would be in plain view. Dennis responded to a searcher calling out, reminding us how important it is to make some noise—to call the subjects' names, blow our whistles, and run the sirens. According to Dennis, the first subject was going to be a "gimme;" as long we were making noise, he or she would definitely respond. Now there are two left, and we don't know if they also will respond to calls, so we have to keep trying.
And we try and try and search and search, sometimes on foot, sometimes driving oh-so-slowly along dirt roads, two-tracks, and power lines. After ten hours, we still haven't found the other two subjects, and the exercise is called off.
When Ken and Dianne, our subjects, arrive back at incident command, they tell us that two riders from the mounted unit passed right by them on the ridge just above where they were sitting amongst the rocks on the edge of one of our sectors. Since the riders didn't call out, neither of the subjects revealed their location. Had they been found, one of the two would have been a medevac.
Turns out, I did look in their direction while walking along a road on the far end of that same sector, but even with my binoculars, they were too far away for me to have seen, especially being somewhat hidden by the rocks. I'd actually wanted to search over on that side, with my partner and I walking just below the ridge where we would have found them, but our assignment was changed by incident command before we'd had a chance. Had there been more people participating in the search, we likely would have been able to cover that area.
All in all, it was a beneficial exercise, giving me some added confidence in my abilities, not to mention showing me where I can use more practice. This mock search also gave other SAR members experience with planning a search.
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.
The Boy Who Ran
I returned from the SAR conference on Sunday, April 20, tired but excited about all that I'd learned, both the new skills and others that were reinforced. And now, less than 12 hours later, I have a chance to put some of those skills to use.
At 0300, my pager sang its little song. As usual, I went from sleeping to vertical in a split second, pulling on my fleece-lined tights, hiking shoes, thermal top, fleece jacket, and winter coat. Minutes later, I was driving across town to the SAR building. It may be spring, and the days are often in the sixties now, but nights are still sub-freezing. In this arid climate, the difference between night and daytime temperatures is often as much as 60 degrees. So, what you might wear in mid-afternoon would be very inadequate at night and in the early morning hours.
The 17-year-old boy we're now looking for was under-dressed for the conditions when he and a friend took off running at 10:00 last night, as a Sheriff's deputy approached to check out their vehicle. The boys had parked along a Forest Service road in an unusual spot, the deputy said, and he drove up without flashing light to investigate. Before he'd stopped his patrol car, the two teenagers emerged from the vehicle and ran into the forest. The deputy did not pursue them.
Soon, the young driver returned to the car. He was the registered owner. But his friend, for whom he gave a false name to the deputy, did not come back. Instead, he disappeared into the cold night wearing just shorts, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes.
Jay (name changed), the person we're searching for, is not from or familiar with this area, where he's visiting his aunt and uncle who live south of Flagstaff in Mountainaire. The deputy told us he found a bong and marijuana grinder on the ground not far from the car, and the one boy-driver who returned admitted they'd been smoking pot and some other drug, too. Jay is currently on probation, which has a lot to do with why he ran when he saw the deputy's car.
The deputy released the driver, who then went to Jay's aunt and uncle's house. At about 2 a.m., he decided to wake them and tell them what had happened. As I understand it, they then called the Sheriff, and that's how the deputy found out who it is that's missing, since the friend had given him the false name earlier. The original deputy and others who were called to assist have been searching for Jay since soon after he disappeared, patrolling roads and walking the immediate area near where the teenagers had parked. It is now 4:30 a.m., and three of us volunteers and Cassie, our K-9 assistant, have arrived to help.
Cassie smells the scent article, a pair of Jay's jeans provided by his uncle, and is off like a shot with her handler, Al, in tow at the end of her 30-foot lead and myself and Scott close behind. At first, Cassie is definitely on scent as we depart from where the boys ran off. She heads toward a concrete tunnel under the highway, filled with a foot of standing water, then north along the barbed wire fence just below I-17. Al and I hear the occasional semi truck pass by on the highway above as we follow Cassie, searching for clues and prints as we go while keeping up with the dog.
Soon, Cassie begins casting side-to-side; she's unsure of the track now and easily distracted, not to mention clearly frustrated. The strong winds have dispersed the scent and made it difficult for her pick up. Eventually, she's lost the track altogether, and we return to the beginning to give it another try.
And Cassie goes right back to the tunnel. However, instead of passing it by this time, she gets very excited and wants to go into the standing water and under the highway. But Al holds her back, and we look through the tunnel as we did before. Still don't see anything. It's daylight now, but we shine our lights in the murkiness, just to be sure.
From above the tunnel, I look down at the water at the entrance and see no disturbance in the mud or rocks. We decide to climb the steep bank, carefully cross the divided highway, and check the other side.
We know the deputy had called for backups when the boys ran off, and some had arrived up on I-17, above the tunnel, just minutes later. As Al, Cassie, and I reach the pavement, we see the deputies' footprints along the side of the highway. None were made by sneakers, of that we're sure, but there's not much chance that Jay went up and over with the flashing blue lights visible from below. Cassie appears to confirm that as we climb the embankment. She doesn't pick up on anything.
On the other side of the highway, there's no disturbance in the algae on the standing water as it emerges from the tunnel, and Cassie isn't detecting anything with her nose. Al takes her in a big circle, checking. Nothing. As the DPS helicopter also circles, we decide that Jay did not cross the highway, at least not here, and we return to the other side. There's much more traffic now, so crossing is trickier.
Jay's mother and stepfather have arrived, as well as the aunt and uncle, so quite a few people are standing around. Another SAR call-out eventually produces four more volunteers, and we give them a rundown of what we know and what we've done so far. Cassie is now in the truck--—a ground-scent dog is not going to be effective on this search, since the wind has made it impossible for her to follow the track—and we'll continue the search without her. She did the best she could.
Now we split up. Scott drives one of the SAR vehicles, while Dave and Howard go up to the highway and soon are following some prints along the edge of the road, heading south. We don't know what type of sneakers Jay is wearing, so we can't be sure if we're seeing his tracks. Val, Oly, and I walk north, paralleling the Forest Service road as we search the woods and open areas between the trees and I-17. I show them where Cassie had stopped earlier on her first attempt, having lost any scent at that point, and we continue in that direction.
And, as it turns out, the three of us are going the right way. We hear on our radios that a deputy has located Jay near Flagstaff's airport, not all that far from our current location. He doesn't say "Code 4," but I'm assuming the boy is okay for lack of any other information. All SAR volunteers start heading back to base.
As we slowly drive away to return to the SAR building, we see Jay get out of a patrol car and approach his waiting family, which now includes his father. We know his father works for the Department of Corrections in a different city, because he'd offered to have more dogs from his department—the kind that air-scent, which is what we would have needed to have any chance in this wind. We also know Jay lives with his mother and stepfather. As we drive past them, we see a tall, red-faced boy who looks like he's angry and on the verge of tears jump back as his father lunges at him. A deputy grabs the father before he can strike Jay, and we drive off, leaving the family drama behind. The boy may have gotten himself into trouble again, but at this moment, I can't help but feel bad for him. Dad could have started off with a hug.
At 0300, my pager sang its little song. As usual, I went from sleeping to vertical in a split second, pulling on my fleece-lined tights, hiking shoes, thermal top, fleece jacket, and winter coat. Minutes later, I was driving across town to the SAR building. It may be spring, and the days are often in the sixties now, but nights are still sub-freezing. In this arid climate, the difference between night and daytime temperatures is often as much as 60 degrees. So, what you might wear in mid-afternoon would be very inadequate at night and in the early morning hours.
The 17-year-old boy we're now looking for was under-dressed for the conditions when he and a friend took off running at 10:00 last night, as a Sheriff's deputy approached to check out their vehicle. The boys had parked along a Forest Service road in an unusual spot, the deputy said, and he drove up without flashing light to investigate. Before he'd stopped his patrol car, the two teenagers emerged from the vehicle and ran into the forest. The deputy did not pursue them.
Soon, the young driver returned to the car. He was the registered owner. But his friend, for whom he gave a false name to the deputy, did not come back. Instead, he disappeared into the cold night wearing just shorts, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes.
Jay (name changed), the person we're searching for, is not from or familiar with this area, where he's visiting his aunt and uncle who live south of Flagstaff in Mountainaire. The deputy told us he found a bong and marijuana grinder on the ground not far from the car, and the one boy-driver who returned admitted they'd been smoking pot and some other drug, too. Jay is currently on probation, which has a lot to do with why he ran when he saw the deputy's car.
The deputy released the driver, who then went to Jay's aunt and uncle's house. At about 2 a.m., he decided to wake them and tell them what had happened. As I understand it, they then called the Sheriff, and that's how the deputy found out who it is that's missing, since the friend had given him the false name earlier. The original deputy and others who were called to assist have been searching for Jay since soon after he disappeared, patrolling roads and walking the immediate area near where the teenagers had parked. It is now 4:30 a.m., and three of us volunteers and Cassie, our K-9 assistant, have arrived to help.
Cassie smells the scent article, a pair of Jay's jeans provided by his uncle, and is off like a shot with her handler, Al, in tow at the end of her 30-foot lead and myself and Scott close behind. At first, Cassie is definitely on scent as we depart from where the boys ran off. She heads toward a concrete tunnel under the highway, filled with a foot of standing water, then north along the barbed wire fence just below I-17. Al and I hear the occasional semi truck pass by on the highway above as we follow Cassie, searching for clues and prints as we go while keeping up with the dog.
Soon, Cassie begins casting side-to-side; she's unsure of the track now and easily distracted, not to mention clearly frustrated. The strong winds have dispersed the scent and made it difficult for her pick up. Eventually, she's lost the track altogether, and we return to the beginning to give it another try.
And Cassie goes right back to the tunnel. However, instead of passing it by this time, she gets very excited and wants to go into the standing water and under the highway. But Al holds her back, and we look through the tunnel as we did before. Still don't see anything. It's daylight now, but we shine our lights in the murkiness, just to be sure.
From above the tunnel, I look down at the water at the entrance and see no disturbance in the mud or rocks. We decide to climb the steep bank, carefully cross the divided highway, and check the other side.
We know the deputy had called for backups when the boys ran off, and some had arrived up on I-17, above the tunnel, just minutes later. As Al, Cassie, and I reach the pavement, we see the deputies' footprints along the side of the highway. None were made by sneakers, of that we're sure, but there's not much chance that Jay went up and over with the flashing blue lights visible from below. Cassie appears to confirm that as we climb the embankment. She doesn't pick up on anything.
On the other side of the highway, there's no disturbance in the algae on the standing water as it emerges from the tunnel, and Cassie isn't detecting anything with her nose. Al takes her in a big circle, checking. Nothing. As the DPS helicopter also circles, we decide that Jay did not cross the highway, at least not here, and we return to the other side. There's much more traffic now, so crossing is trickier.
Jay's mother and stepfather have arrived, as well as the aunt and uncle, so quite a few people are standing around. Another SAR call-out eventually produces four more volunteers, and we give them a rundown of what we know and what we've done so far. Cassie is now in the truck--—a ground-scent dog is not going to be effective on this search, since the wind has made it impossible for her to follow the track—and we'll continue the search without her. She did the best she could.
Now we split up. Scott drives one of the SAR vehicles, while Dave and Howard go up to the highway and soon are following some prints along the edge of the road, heading south. We don't know what type of sneakers Jay is wearing, so we can't be sure if we're seeing his tracks. Val, Oly, and I walk north, paralleling the Forest Service road as we search the woods and open areas between the trees and I-17. I show them where Cassie had stopped earlier on her first attempt, having lost any scent at that point, and we continue in that direction.
And, as it turns out, the three of us are going the right way. We hear on our radios that a deputy has located Jay near Flagstaff's airport, not all that far from our current location. He doesn't say "Code 4," but I'm assuming the boy is okay for lack of any other information. All SAR volunteers start heading back to base.
As we slowly drive away to return to the SAR building, we see Jay get out of a patrol car and approach his waiting family, which now includes his father. We know his father works for the Department of Corrections in a different city, because he'd offered to have more dogs from his department—the kind that air-scent, which is what we would have needed to have any chance in this wind. We also know Jay lives with his mother and stepfather. As we drive past them, we see a tall, red-faced boy who looks like he's angry and on the verge of tears jump back as his father lunges at him. A deputy grabs the father before he can strike Jay, and we drive off, leaving the family drama behind. The boy may have gotten himself into trouble again, but at this moment, I can't help but feel bad for him. Dad could have started off with a hug.
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