Are They Really Missing?

That's the question I couldn't help but wonder about all day. I tried not to think about it, though, and to focus instead on what we were doing: searching. But the information we had was sketchy, and the circumstances were such that the two people we were looking for could have been anywhere.

That's what it's like with search and rescue sometimes. There's not always a call for help from a lost subject on a cellphone. There's not always an empty vehicle sitting at a trailhead.  Sometimes, a person is reported overdue and their exact destination is unknown. So, our SAR leaders go with the information they do have, and we volunteers get our assignments and search the most likely areas. Sometimes, those search areas can be very large and change as more information becomes available.

In this case, we were looking for a couple in their 70s, one of whom uses oxygen, who'd apparently gone to cut firewood but hadn't returned home the night before, so said a concerned neighbor. And being a concerned neighbor is a good thing, I'd say. Many times, concern for someone else's well-being or their home saves the day, so it's better to be safe than sorry and report those concerns. Imagine not doing so and then regretting it when things turn out badly.

So, it didn't bother me when, after hours of driving around in the Polaris Ranger, following vehicle tracks here, there, and anywhere they went within our large search area, and my teammates doing the same on ATVs and the DPS helicopter searching from above, we found out that the couple was just fine and had never been missing at all. They'd simply been... well, somewhere else.

Okay, so maybe I rolled my eyes and laughed a little at the situation as I tried to dust myself and my backpack off and pick the dirt out of my teeth. But I was happy that things had ended well. I was also relieved that some of the other scenarios that had been passing through my brain all day had not come true.

Besides, I learned some new tracking skills while we were out there. My teammate who was with me on the Polaris was with the Border Patrol for 27 years, so this experienced tracker could tell the type of vehicle at a glance, the direction of travel, and the age of the tracks by just by touching his finger to the dirt and by the color. He patiently took the time to show me what he was doing. So, thank you, Steve, for teaching me some new stuff!

Tracks! I See Tracks!

Okay, I didn't exactly shout about it. But I was pretty excited that my two little eyeballs, with the help of dust-covered glasses, a $5 flashlight, and another tracking class this past weekend, were able to pick out a partial print amongst pine needles on the dirt two-track. Yippee! (I didn't shout that either.)

It had to be them: the family of five we were looking for last night. I mean, how many other people would have been wandering around on those backwoods roads? As my teammate and I continued to follow the prints and impressions, we could see they were on top of all the tire tracks, and they were definitely fresh. So we'd track for a bit, then walk back and retrieve our ATVs and move them up, then return to tracking. Finally, we heard a faint response to my teammate's shout—a chorus of voices somewhere off in the trees.

This was one of those times when a short walk—20 minutes had been the plan, they later told us—turned into a long, chilly night. I'm sure it must have been an added frustration for the family, knowing there were flashlights and warm clothing back in their vehicle as they wandered around in the dark, trying to find their way out. They did have a cellphone, though, and luckily had reception too, so they were able to call for assistance.

So, this is yet another instance that makes me NOT feel silly about carrying my 24-hour pack with me all the time, even when I walk my dog in the woods I know so well around our house, and recommending that others do the same. A 24-hour pack doesn't have to weigh very much—mine is often around 12 pounds, including at least two liters of water—but it can literally save your life. Or at least make life more tolerable while you wait for help.

Okay, I'll stop preaching... so I can start complaining. Have I mentioned lately that I really dislike ATVs? I'm talking about driving them. I swear, they make me more nervous than rappelling off an 80-foot cliff (which makes me pretty darn nervous). Not only do I end up eating a lot of dirt and wearing a layer of dust because I'm always behind a teammate's quad because I'm such a slow driver, but I always feel like I'm going to tip over whenever the road is anything but flat. Those deeply rutted, rocky two-tracks really challenge my limited ATV skills, and I'm much too chicken to load or unload a quad from the trailer. Besides, I think being nervous can lead to problems when it comes to those heavy beasts, so better I don't try. That's how I see it. 

I'm always a little bummed when I get assigned to an ATV rather than to hike. For some reason, though, the UTV—the Polaris Ranger side-by-side—doesn't bother me. At least, not where I've driven it so far, which includes up and down the switchbacks at the Snowbowl ski area.

Anyhow, I'm off to the monthly technical rescue team meeting tonight. These meetings are followed by a day-long field training on the weekend. I'm not sure what we'll be learning and practicing this time, but I thought I heard something about passing knots in raising and lowering systems. We shall see...

SAR City

I'm back. And, hopefully, I'm now a better tracker after an another 16 hours of instruction, this time at the SAR City conference in Barstow, California, where there were more than 50 classes offered on a wide range of topics and skills. This annual conference is organized and hosted by the all-volunteer Barstow Desert Rescue Squad in San Bernadino County.

I thought the three-day event was well worth the trip, and as always, I really enjoyed meeting people from other teams, especially the folks from Dolores, Colorado, K9 Search & Rescue, who came over to introduce themselves soon after I arrived as I sat alone by my tent. So, thank you Shawn, Chuck, Randy, Vicki #1, Vicki #2, and Kimberly (and Jack!) for hanging out with me over the weekend. It was great to meet you and learn about your team. And it was nice meeting you too, Orange County guys. That's a spiffy Hummer you've got there.

As for that tracking class—which was excellent in many ways, and the lead instructor, retired sergeant and SAR coordinator Darryl Heller was top-notch—it's always interesting to learn the same skills from different people. I pick up new techniques and "tricks" and get at least a somewhat different perspective, which I think is really valuable. 

That said, it's a challenge not to say "yes, but.." when an instructor tells you that what you learned from someone else is wrong ("No, you never do that" was the reply to a question I asked about a method of measuring stride that I'd been taught at the Heber, Arizona conference), or if that instructor has a very different way of doing something than you're used to.

Not that I'm the greatest tracker after just two years in SAR and five tracking classes, but it can also be difficult to swallow your pride when someone talks to you like you have no experience at all. In my case, during one of the field sessions, I was used as an example of what NOT to do, even though it's something my own team does when tracking, and I've learned it from others as well. I must admit, that really bugged me... even after the field instructor came up to me after class to say it had been he who'd encouraged the other students in my group to do something that obliterated part of the track and that I hadn't actually done anything wrong. Well, phooey, I wish the other students knew that.

Other than that, though... I thought the class was great and would highly recommend it to anyone in SAR. And while that class took up the entire conference, I heard lots of good things about many of the other classes, too, some of which lasted an hour or two or four and others that spanned the whole weekend.

If you'd like to read more about the conference and see my photos—I wish I'd taken more, but I was usually too busy with the class or yacking to remember to take pictures—I did a write-up about it here: SAR City: A Search and Rescue Conference in Barstow, California.