I haven't slept for 36 hours, so if I sound loopy, that's my excuse. I was just drifting off to sleep last night when my pager jerked me awake and onto my feet. Two overdue hikers on Kendrick Peak, Arizona's fourth highest mountain at 10,418 feet.
I checked the clock: 11 p.m. Why were we being called out so late? Maybe the reporting party, one of the missing men's sons, kept thinking they'd show up at any moment and procrastinated. Oh well, no matter. Off I went.
When seven of us got to the mountain, a deputy was already climbing the 4.5-mile Kendrick Trail but had not had any voice contact with the subjects or found any sign of them. Another deputy filled us in on the details as the reporting party sat cross-legged on the ground nearby, not looking particularly alarmed by the situation. We were told the men were in their early fifties and weighed about 260 and 280 pounds. (I hope they'll be able to walk out on their own, I was thinking. A carry-out would be a doozy.) They had no lights, maybe one liter of water between them, were wearing t-shirts, and had no extra layers of clothing. They did have cell phones but had left them in the car.
Our plan: Four of us would start up the trail, putting our tracking skills to use and calling periodically, until we'd reach the point where the subjects had last been seen by the son as he was descending. (The older men had turned around, having decided they weren't up for continuing to the summit. The son was much faster and had already gone to the top.) At that point, at about 8,800 feet, we'd split into two groups of two searchers and go off trail. Meanwhile, the others would drive Forest Service roads around the base of the mountain.
As we all set off to carry out our assignments, Kingman DPS Ranger was searching from the air. The noise from the helicopter made it difficult to listen for any response to our calls. Every once in a while as we were hiking, one of us would stop suddenly and say, "Hey, I think I heard something." So we'd wait until the helicopter moved off, call again, and listen. Nothing.
Though I had a hard time hearing anything but my own huffing and puffing. It wasn't easy keeping up with my speedy companions, who didn't seem winded at all. We spent about an hour on the trail before coming to the point last seen.
Even with our headlamps and flashlights off, we could easily see the trail; the moon was bright and the sky clear. Much of the trail was lined with rocks, but we did check for prints where drainages or game trails may have confused the men in the dark and caused them to veer off, but we found no evidence anyone had gone off the trail.
At the point last seen, we stopped for a drink and snack break while studying our topo map and discussing the next course of action, when we'd split into two and two. Meanwhile, we listened to radio traffic between Incident Command, Kingman Ranger, and the volunteers driving Forest Service roads. The men in one of our vehicles had stopped to call out and listen and thought they'd heard something in the distance, up on the mountain. Ranger was in the process of flying over that area.
Soon, we heard that the lost men had been spotted, high on the mountain, one of them waving a white cloth as the helicopter passed over. They appeared to be uninjured. Somehow, our SAR teammates and the two hikers had heard one another from over a mile away. Amazing how the sound had carried. Ranger transmitted some lat-long coordinates, which we converted to UTM and plotted on our map.
The decision was made that Ken and Joel would stay put and wait for the deputy to come back down the trail, then return with him to Incident Command while Al and I would contour around the mountain and make our way toward the subjects. They certainly had gone a long way off the trail somehow, and Al and I would have to bushwhack at least a couple of miles to get to them. The coordinates taken from the air were only approximate, so we'd have to gain voice contact and hone in on their exact location.
Meanwhile, Val and Joe would leave their vehicle and head up the mountain, too. Eventually, the four of us would rendezvous with the stationery subjects and escort them, hopefully under their own power, to the vehicle. We were all carrying extra drinks, snacks, headlamps, and clothing to share with them.
Initial voice contact with the subjects had been established at about 2:45 a.m. It was close to dawn by the time Val and Joe reached the men, and Al and I arrived a short time later, a bit bruised and scratched from the effort. The going was tedious and slow through thick stands of young aspen trees, piles of dead fall like oversized pickup sticks, and large boulder fields.
But we were happy to find two uninjured, albeit exhausted and dehydrated, men, both in good spirits. Seeing there was a female in the group, one of them gave me a humorous warning the moment I arrived, telling me he'd torn open the seat of his jeans so I might want to avoid the sight if I was easily embarrassed. "Ah, that's okay," Val said. "Deb hangs out with us."
We were able to turn off our headlamps soon after we began picking our way down the mountain as the sun came up. And now the going was painfully slow. I fidgeted each time we stopped to give the men a break. But they were good-natured and grateful, and we couldn't have hoped for nicer rescue-ees.
One of the men admitted to me they'd gone off-trail on purpose on their way down, cutting switchbacks in an attempt to make a beeline back to their car and shorten the distance. It was still daylight when they realized they were very lost, and matters only worsened when it got dark. Well, that plan certainly backfired.
When we finally reached the vehicle at about 8 a.m., rescuers and the rescued had the longest farewell session I've experienced so far, with the men telling us they're going to make a donation to our team. Very cool. Unexpected and unsolicited but very much appreciated.
When I signed out back at the SAR building around 9:45 a.m., I had just enough time to drive across town to pick up my mom for a full day of errand-running (she doesn't drive anymore) and a pre-planned lunch. I met Steve at home at 5:00. We had some dinner and ... my pager just went off again.
Did I say how much I enjoy this SAR stuff? Let's see what's goin' on now...
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.
Update: Cinder Hill Cindy Has a Real Name
Her name was Julie Renee Windhorn. She was 33 years young when she died on a nondescript cinder hill on the Navajo Army Depot grounds west of Flagstaff. The cause of death has been listed as "undetermined," but nothing is being ruled out.
Read the Arizona Daily Sun story and see a photo of Julie here: Human remains found near Bellemont identified
Read the Arizona Daily Sun story and see a photo of Julie here: Human remains found near Bellemont identified
They Call Her Cinder Hill Cindy
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.
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.
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