Pushing through the brush, thorns tear at my clothing and skin, leaving snags, nicks, and blood streaks behind. Young locust trees, from knee to chest high, are everywhere. I'm down on hands and knees from time to time to peer under what I can't get through, then carefully pick my way around the worst of it, trying to stay at least somewhat even with the searchers to my right and left. It's difficult to maintain our line in this thick underbrush.
Our assignment today is to look for more pieces of "Cinder Hill Cindy," the name given to skeletal remains found a few days ago by some men working near this cinder hill, here on army depot grounds. As they were driving by, the men spotted what they thought was an elk antler, shining white in the sun halfway up the steep slope. Upon closer inspection, they realized that what they'd found were human ribs. Then a skull, mandible, and other bones were located nearby. Authorities were contacted, more searching and forensic tests were conducted, and it was determined that the bones, including a pelvis, belonged to a female between the ages of 25 and 35, with a mean age of 30.7 years. The pelvic bone also provided the approximate height of the young lady. We're told they found some teeth and hair, also, which are currently being analyzed.
Nine SAR volunteers are searching today, along with two detectives, a forensic anthropologist, and a medical examiner. We've ascended the cinder hill, spread out at roughly five-foot intervals, and are making our way across the top, which is covered with thick, thorny vegetation.
The idea is to space ourselves just close enough that we can spot something the size of a six-inch bone midway between one another. We're also on the lookout for anything else that "doesn't belong" here. Whatever we happen to see, we're not to touch. Instead, we call for the line to stop, mark the GPS location of the object, flag it with yellow tape, and wait for one of the detectives to come over and take a look. They'll decide if the object—be it bone, fabric, jewelry, or whatnot—has any merit in this case. Once we get to the end of our search zone, we'll pivot around and head back the other way, so as not to overlook anything between the out and the back. We're still missing significant pieces of Cinder Hill Cindy.
It's hot and buggy here, which adds to the discomfort. I've got prickly little bebbles stuck all over my socks, and I've given up some hair to the locust thorns. But I'm determined to check as many nooks and crannies as possible and try not to miss anything that may be on either side of me. There are some really overgrown areas, though, that are just impossible to check so thoroughly, and my imagination tells me those impenetrable areas must be where the bones and other clues are hidden, probably dragged under there by animals.
After an hour or more, finding only what turned out to be deer bones and one small piece of purple latex of some sort (part of a balloon? or could it be from a glove?), we arrive at the end of our search area and take a break before pivoting around to head in the opposite direction. We're not discouraged per se, but I don't think any of us are all that optimistic about finding anything significant. More experienced SAR members tell me they've been on lots of these evidence searches and often found nothing at all. One of the detectives had joked, just before we started out today, that we should locate the young lady's wallet, please. Yeah, wouldn't that be helpful.
Well, guess what.
Liz makes the find of the day, and what a find it is. Clothing. A full set, laid out just so. Jacket, pants, trail runner type of shoes, underwear. And a credit card and drivers license in plain view! The detectives are astonished. They set down numbered markers and dial their cell phones at the same time.
Now Cinder Hill Cindy has a real name, and this find has solved a missing person case. Two years ago, this young lady, aged 32, was reported missing from back east. A year and a half ago, during the winter, a backpack belonging to this same person was found on I-17, which is between 15 to 20 miles from this location. And now, we've discovered her fate.
But now that one big question has been answered, many more have been created. How did she get here? This is a secure area, which we had to have an escort to enter. Could she have climbed a fence along a more remote section? Did someone bring her here, or did she get in on her own? What happened to her? How did she die?
We're told the skull and other bones found thus far show no signs of trauma. Neither did the clothing, laid out so neatly and still that way after two years. And the credit card and ID right there, face-up on the ground? I'm told that not only do hypothermic people often end up disrobing but place their clothing neatly as well. Could that explain this situation?
We discuss the possibilities for the next couple of hours, until we finally sign out and part ways back at the SAR building. And I'm sure we'll be talking about this one for a long time to come. I hope, as we were promised, detectives will let us know when... that is, if any conclusion is ever made.
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 Rescue on Mt. Elden
"What do you think?" I asked Liz. "Should I do it?"
I was standing at the base of a huge boulder, looking up. If I did get up there, would I eventually be able to get back down? I'm not very experienced at bouldering, and I'm kind of a chicken too. But, Liz, who is 20 years older and maybe six inches shorter than I am and therefore has shorter legs, seemed to think it would be fine to keep going. I looked up again and continued to ponder the situation.
Liz and I were the only non-technical members of the team climbing the south side of Mt. Elden on the night of July 29, en route to rescue four stranded hikers. With their single light source, they'd signaled S-O-S, which was not only noticed by someone in a neighborhood at the base of the mountain but recognized as a call for help and reported to the Sheriff. Lucky for them!
My pager went off at 8:30 p.m., while my husband was at a Toastmasters meeting. Sergeant D's message said it would be a technical rescue, but non-tech ground-pounders could help carry gear up. So I scribbled a note to Steve—"SAR call, rescue on Elden, gotta git. Love, Me"—and headed across town to The 105 building. There, I met up with Liz and Al, and, after loading a bunch of equipment and extra bottles of water and electrolyte drink, we were soon on our way.
When we arrived at the trail access on a neighborhood cul-de-sac, Sergeant D and a number of resident bystanders were gathered around. Several tech team members had responded directly to that location and were already headed up the mountain toward the subjects to try to make contact. Liz, Al, and I loaded climbing gear and helmets into our packs and, along with another tech team member, set off at a fast clip. The sweat was dripping profusely in no time.
The four of us were on trail for just a short time, until we arrived at the base of a maze of huge boulders. We slowed significantly at that point and began to climb. As mentioned, bouldering is not my forte, but I managed quite well until we hit that gnarly spot where I asked Liz if she thought I should go for it. If she said yes, I'd go... eventually. But, to my relief, I pondered just long enough for Al to call down that that wasn't the right way. Phew! I wouldn't have to decide after all. The rest of the route was challenging but not quite as stressful for me as that one spot, particularly because it was so dark and I couldn't see just how far I'd have to fall.
Soon, we made voice contact with the rest of the tech team who, from their position higher up, had voice contact with the subjects and could see their light. From the point where Liz, Al, Phillip, and I were standing, the route became too technical for Liz and me, so we were instructed to sit tight for a while. Al stayed with us as Philip collected some of the extra gear and climbed up.
Perhaps half an hour later, as we listened to radio reports from those above and ropes were rigged, the tech team rendezvoused with the stranded hikers, who had cliffed out at the top of "The Waterfall." The three young men and one girl had no food or water, were wearing shorts and t-shirts (a bit chilly even for a summer night up on the mountain), and three were wearing sandals. Among them were two from France, one from Australia, and one from Washington State, who'd all met while staying at the youth hostel downtown. They said they'd taken the bus across town, hiked up the Elden Lookout Trail, then lost the trail when it got dark and ended up trying to descend the boulder-covered south side.
Though apparently experienced hikers, the four had not planned or prepared well at all and ended up in a precarious situation. But not only were they lucky the reporting party had seen and recognized their signal, they were also lucky to have some very experienced tech team SAR volunteers to get them down.
At three in the morning, after having gone much of the way down the mountain on my butt, even through the slippery, wet part, caring less about my pride than my neck and other fragile body parts, I signed out at the SAR building and headed home.
I must admit, I was proud of myself for making it up and down that route. It may have been fairly easy for some, but for me it was a confidence-building accomplishment. The adrenaline of that night helped carry me through my day at the office after only a couple hours of sleep.
Read the Arizona Daily Sun article about this rescue here: SOS signal alerts resident to stranded hikers on Mount Elden
I was standing at the base of a huge boulder, looking up. If I did get up there, would I eventually be able to get back down? I'm not very experienced at bouldering, and I'm kind of a chicken too. But, Liz, who is 20 years older and maybe six inches shorter than I am and therefore has shorter legs, seemed to think it would be fine to keep going. I looked up again and continued to ponder the situation.
Liz and I were the only non-technical members of the team climbing the south side of Mt. Elden on the night of July 29, en route to rescue four stranded hikers. With their single light source, they'd signaled S-O-S, which was not only noticed by someone in a neighborhood at the base of the mountain but recognized as a call for help and reported to the Sheriff. Lucky for them!
My pager went off at 8:30 p.m., while my husband was at a Toastmasters meeting. Sergeant D's message said it would be a technical rescue, but non-tech ground-pounders could help carry gear up. So I scribbled a note to Steve—"SAR call, rescue on Elden, gotta git. Love, Me"—and headed across town to The 105 building. There, I met up with Liz and Al, and, after loading a bunch of equipment and extra bottles of water and electrolyte drink, we were soon on our way.
When we arrived at the trail access on a neighborhood cul-de-sac, Sergeant D and a number of resident bystanders were gathered around. Several tech team members had responded directly to that location and were already headed up the mountain toward the subjects to try to make contact. Liz, Al, and I loaded climbing gear and helmets into our packs and, along with another tech team member, set off at a fast clip. The sweat was dripping profusely in no time.
The four of us were on trail for just a short time, until we arrived at the base of a maze of huge boulders. We slowed significantly at that point and began to climb. As mentioned, bouldering is not my forte, but I managed quite well until we hit that gnarly spot where I asked Liz if she thought I should go for it. If she said yes, I'd go... eventually. But, to my relief, I pondered just long enough for Al to call down that that wasn't the right way. Phew! I wouldn't have to decide after all. The rest of the route was challenging but not quite as stressful for me as that one spot, particularly because it was so dark and I couldn't see just how far I'd have to fall.
Soon, we made voice contact with the rest of the tech team who, from their position higher up, had voice contact with the subjects and could see their light. From the point where Liz, Al, Phillip, and I were standing, the route became too technical for Liz and me, so we were instructed to sit tight for a while. Al stayed with us as Philip collected some of the extra gear and climbed up.
Perhaps half an hour later, as we listened to radio reports from those above and ropes were rigged, the tech team rendezvoused with the stranded hikers, who had cliffed out at the top of "The Waterfall." The three young men and one girl had no food or water, were wearing shorts and t-shirts (a bit chilly even for a summer night up on the mountain), and three were wearing sandals. Among them were two from France, one from Australia, and one from Washington State, who'd all met while staying at the youth hostel downtown. They said they'd taken the bus across town, hiked up the Elden Lookout Trail, then lost the trail when it got dark and ended up trying to descend the boulder-covered south side.
Though apparently experienced hikers, the four had not planned or prepared well at all and ended up in a precarious situation. But not only were they lucky the reporting party had seen and recognized their signal, they were also lucky to have some very experienced tech team SAR volunteers to get them down.
At three in the morning, after having gone much of the way down the mountain on my butt, even through the slippery, wet part, caring less about my pride than my neck and other fragile body parts, I signed out at the SAR building and headed home.
I must admit, I was proud of myself for making it up and down that route. It may have been fairly easy for some, but for me it was a confidence-building accomplishment. The adrenaline of that night helped carry me through my day at the office after only a couple hours of sleep.
Read the Arizona Daily Sun article about this rescue here: SOS signal alerts resident to stranded hikers on Mount Elden
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)