My keester is sore. (I know: thanks for sharing, Deb.) I just spent about eight hours on a quad, which felt like riding a bucking bronco. The Cinder Lakes OTV area is covered with big wave-like bumpety-bumps. Yeee-haaa! Ouch.
So, have I mentioned that I don't like riding quads? They're great tools for SAR, but I'd never ride one for... fun? No offense 'r' nothin' to those who do enjoy them, but it's just not my thing.
Anyhow, we were looking for a 10-year-old boy who'd disappeared from his family's campsite. At least, his mom didn't know where he was. Neither did the other relatives, friends, or caring strangers, both SAR and other campers, who were helping with the search throughout the night and early morning hours. The child had last been seen at about 7 p.m. Friday, running after two vehicles driven by extended family.
So, okay, does this sound odd to you? Part of a family group decides to go camp somewhere else. They leave for who-knows-where. A child from the group trails their vehicles as they drive off. Mom sees her son doing this but apparently turns and walks away. Next thing she knows, both the vehicles and her boy are gone. But did the boy get in one of the vehicles, or did he disappear on foot? And where did those vehicles go?
The answers to those questions weren't known for more than 12 hours, during which time numerous ground units and a DPS helicopter searched the area extensively. Finally, a few hours after sunrise, the helicopter spots two SUVs matching the description of those driven by the aunt and a cousin, a short way off one of a crazy network of cinder-covered roads. They land and confirm, thankfully, that the boy is with them.
But did those he was with ever turn on their cell phones and let anyone know they had the boy?
No, although there was coverage in the area.
Did they think to turn around and let Mom know her son was with them?
No.
Did they tell anyone where they were going? No, and they probably didn't even know, either.
Does any of this make sense?
Not to me.
I'm just glad the boy was with them. It would have been a whole different story had those vehicles been located but the child wasn't there.
Here's the brief newspaper story: Flagstaff Boy Found After 13 Hours Missing
_______________________________________
In other news:
Search For Missing Grand Canyon Hiker Scaled Back
Supai Reopens Monday (Things have changed since the August 2008 floods.)
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 Short Walk Turns Into A Long Night
Incident Commander (IC): So, when you parked the ATV and got off, what were you planning to do?
Subject: I was just going to check out a couple of tanks (man-made watering holes) in the area, for elk sign. I figured that one tank was only, like, 1000 yards away or something, so I just walked that direction. But I never saw it.
IC: And what did you do then?
Subject: I kept going, but I guess I got turned around. I thought I was walking back to the power line where I'd left my ATV, but I never found it again. I walked for hours. Then it got dark and cold, so I laid down and covered myself with pine needles.
IC: Did you ever see the helicopter?
Subject: Yeah, they flew right over, but I had no way to signal them.
IC: And what about the searchers on the ground? Did you hear them calling or any whistles during the night?
Subject: No, not till right before they found me. Then I started yelling back. I did hear a siren once, earlier, but it was a long way off.
IC: So, what would you tell someone else who was in this sort of situation?
Subject: [emphatically] I'd tell 'em never, ever walk away without your pack. Take a light, food, and water, a map and compass, and all that. Even if you're just going for a short walk, be prepared! I've been doin' this outdoor stuff and hunting for a long time, so this can happen to anybody.
I leaned over the seat, watching through the open rear hatch of the incident commander's vehicle as this conversation was going on. I'd been waiting back at IC for teammates to return with the subject, who'd been located about an hour earlier around 2:30 a.m. The commander asked those of us in the vehicle, "You guys have anything to add?"
I looked at the subject, illuminated by the interior lights of the cab, as he stood out back with our commander. The man had been driven to base by one of our teammates in a SAR vehicle, while the others hiked back to retrieve their ATVs and the subject's quad. "No," I answered. "We're just really glad you're okay."
With his arms wrapped around himself, the man nodded and, in a shaky voice, said, "Thank you all. Thank you very much."
Poor guy. It'd been a long, uncomfortable, and probably scary night for him. He'd heard about rabid animals in the area, he'd said, and he worried about the coyotes. Just because you've been camping, hiking, and hunting for a long time doesn't mean you're immune to mistakes or being afraid. I could tell he was embarrassed.
It had been a long night for us searchers, too. We'd been called out shortly before sundown and, after loading trailers and equipment, we responded to the staging area near Kinnikinick Lake. While we were en route and as the light was fading, the man's ATV was spotted along a power line by air rescue.
When a deputy on the ground reached the quad, he found that it was dry beneath the vehicle and wet all around. That means it had rained since the ATV was parked, and he was unable to find any foot tracks near the quad to determine the subject's direction of travel from that point. Trackers from our team tried cutting for sign in the immediate area but didn't find any prints.
By then dark, we continued to search in pairs for six, seven hours before some foot tracks were finally picked up along a forest service road. Twenty minutes later, I heard a teammate report through the static that he thought they "had our subject." Radio communications and cell phone contact were sketchy at best, so the rest of us had to wait for several long minutes to find out that they meant a living subject. Due to some medical history, we'd been worried that a health issue may have been the reason the man hadn't returned to his ATV or to the camp he was sharing with his brother, the reporting party, since 10 a.m. the previous day.
At 7:30 the following morning—yesterday, Tuesday, May 1—I got home just after my husband had gone to work. After two nights of SAR in a row, I was rather wiped out, but I'd have to wait till that evening to get some sleep. I had things to do for my mom and some practice back at the SAR building already arranged for yesterday afternoon with two other teammates for a little Rock Rescue Academy homework.
Needless to say, when I did finally commune with my pillow at 9:30 last night, I slept really well until the sun through the window woke me up this morning.
Subject: I was just going to check out a couple of tanks (man-made watering holes) in the area, for elk sign. I figured that one tank was only, like, 1000 yards away or something, so I just walked that direction. But I never saw it.
IC: And what did you do then?
Subject: I kept going, but I guess I got turned around. I thought I was walking back to the power line where I'd left my ATV, but I never found it again. I walked for hours. Then it got dark and cold, so I laid down and covered myself with pine needles.
IC: Did you ever see the helicopter?
Subject: Yeah, they flew right over, but I had no way to signal them.
IC: And what about the searchers on the ground? Did you hear them calling or any whistles during the night?
Subject: No, not till right before they found me. Then I started yelling back. I did hear a siren once, earlier, but it was a long way off.
IC: So, what would you tell someone else who was in this sort of situation?
Subject: [emphatically] I'd tell 'em never, ever walk away without your pack. Take a light, food, and water, a map and compass, and all that. Even if you're just going for a short walk, be prepared! I've been doin' this outdoor stuff and hunting for a long time, so this can happen to anybody.
I leaned over the seat, watching through the open rear hatch of the incident commander's vehicle as this conversation was going on. I'd been waiting back at IC for teammates to return with the subject, who'd been located about an hour earlier around 2:30 a.m. The commander asked those of us in the vehicle, "You guys have anything to add?"
I looked at the subject, illuminated by the interior lights of the cab, as he stood out back with our commander. The man had been driven to base by one of our teammates in a SAR vehicle, while the others hiked back to retrieve their ATVs and the subject's quad. "No," I answered. "We're just really glad you're okay."
With his arms wrapped around himself, the man nodded and, in a shaky voice, said, "Thank you all. Thank you very much."
Poor guy. It'd been a long, uncomfortable, and probably scary night for him. He'd heard about rabid animals in the area, he'd said, and he worried about the coyotes. Just because you've been camping, hiking, and hunting for a long time doesn't mean you're immune to mistakes or being afraid. I could tell he was embarrassed.
It had been a long night for us searchers, too. We'd been called out shortly before sundown and, after loading trailers and equipment, we responded to the staging area near Kinnikinick Lake. While we were en route and as the light was fading, the man's ATV was spotted along a power line by air rescue.
When a deputy on the ground reached the quad, he found that it was dry beneath the vehicle and wet all around. That means it had rained since the ATV was parked, and he was unable to find any foot tracks near the quad to determine the subject's direction of travel from that point. Trackers from our team tried cutting for sign in the immediate area but didn't find any prints.
By then dark, we continued to search in pairs for six, seven hours before some foot tracks were finally picked up along a forest service road. Twenty minutes later, I heard a teammate report through the static that he thought they "had our subject." Radio communications and cell phone contact were sketchy at best, so the rest of us had to wait for several long minutes to find out that they meant a living subject. Due to some medical history, we'd been worried that a health issue may have been the reason the man hadn't returned to his ATV or to the camp he was sharing with his brother, the reporting party, since 10 a.m. the previous day.
At 7:30 the following morning—yesterday, Tuesday, May 1—I got home just after my husband had gone to work. After two nights of SAR in a row, I was rather wiped out, but I'd have to wait till that evening to get some sleep. I had things to do for my mom and some practice back at the SAR building already arranged for yesterday afternoon with two other teammates for a little Rock Rescue Academy homework.
Needless to say, when I did finally commune with my pillow at 9:30 last night, I slept really well until the sun through the window woke me up this morning.
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