SAR and the Art of Hurry-Up-and-Waiting

This had started out as Yavapai SAR's (YSAR's) mission, since the search area was mostly in their county. But when a night and most of the next day went by without locating the subjects, our team was asked to assist.

The two men, one in his early 50s and the other in his 60s, had driven their UTV all the way from Camp Verde to where it eventually ran out of gas, a long way down a network of Forest Service roads somewhere between Beaver Creek and West Clear Creek.

Lucky for the stranded pair, who apparently had no provisions for staying out overnight in those cold and snowy/rainy conditions, they found shelter in a nearby line cabin—a structure used by cowboys out on the range—and were able to make a cellphone call to 911.

I heard they'd told dispatch they were cold, hungry, and thirsty but they weren't sure of their exact location, and the weather and road conditions were quickly deteriorating. So was their cellphone battery. And a cell tower ping provided only a very general area, so that gave us no additional information beyond what had been relayed to us by Yavapai County.

So south we went toward the Mogollon Rim with six Coconino SAR volunteers and a coordinator, towing our Mattrax (a Suburban with tracks instead of tires) and four snowmobiles, only to later realize the snowmobiles would be useless. There was snow on the ground and more coming down, but once off the pavement, there wasn't enough snow over all the mud and rocks to use those machines.

So wherever we'd go, we'd have to go in the Mattrax or on foot, the hard way. But we had such a long distance to cover, slogging through the muck wouldn't be practical or really possible. And then, how would we get the two men out if we located them? Using a vehicle was necessary.

First, we tried a shortcut to the search area, attempting to go in from the north near Stoneman Lake. As two of my teammates and I waited back at the furthest point our regular vehicles could go, the crew in the Mattrax continued on, successfully winching a large blowdown out of the way. Eventually, they were stopped by a 20-foot-wide, fast-running, swollen creek and steep bank on the opposite side. We'd have to go the long way in from the south.

So, back on the freeway we went, then 12 miles down Forest Road 618 (I think it was), heading lower in elevation where the snow was replaced by rain and the mud only got deeper. Once again, three of us and our coordinator waited for hours while the Mattrax crew did their thing.

Occasionally, when the precipitation let up, I'd get out of the truck to stretch my legs, slipping along the muddy road. At one point, I ventured into the darkness amongst the pinion–juniper and prickly pear to pee and sunk to the tops of my boots in mud. Then I got back in the vehicle to listen for more radio traffic, pick away at a really gross MRE I snatched from the coordinator's stash (because I'd forgotten to replenish the food in my pack), yack with my likewise-waiting teammates, and occasionally try to get comfortable enough to catch a few winks, which didn't happen.

Sometimes, going on a SAR mission means you're asked to stand by as backup. And I don't mind that at all (okay, I admit it; it's usually not much fun). Being a backup is important, and sometimes the backups turn out to be vital. In this case, though, I wasn't sure what kind of backup we three could provide, given that we had no other vehicle with us that could manage that kind of deep mud mixed with snow mixed with loads of rocks. Then again, we can't always anticipate what needs might arise, so wait we did through the night. At least we kept our coordinator company as he did his... well, coordinating and information gathering. I know he appreciated us being there.

At about 4 a.m., those of us doing the waiting were finally sent back to Flagstaff, towing the unnecessary snowmobiles. At that point, the Mattrax was headed back to base, low on fuel, but the stranded men had not been located. And that was still the case when we arrived back at the SAR building at 7:00. At that point, YSAR volunteers were returning to the search area.

Sometime later that morning, I got a message on Twitter from a YSAR member, telling me they'd finally located the subjects, who were in good condition. I'm sure they were extremely relieved to be back to warmth and food, home and family after two unexpected days and nights in that line shack.

 A Yavapai County SAR jeep used on this search

Photo courtesy of Jim Cobey, YSAR

Back From Ropes That Rescue

 

And, boy, am I ready for a full day at home in my PJs. Seven 10- to 12-hour days of rigging, rappelling, raising, and a lot of learning has left me tired, bruised, sore (from packing in and out heavy loads of gear and tweaking muscles in ways they aren't used to), punctured (with cactus spines), exhilarated, and much more educated about tech rescue than I was a week ago. 

Being an instructor-level course, it was a real challenge for me, but I've brought back a significant number of new tricks and skills and a much greater awareness of what's possible in the world of rigging and rope rescue.

In addition to all of the hands-on work, the class went into the physics behind anchors and pulley systems. I may not remember all of the details, but that information definitely gives me a better idea of why things work they way they do, not to mention what doesn't work and why certain setups would be dangerous.

Needless to say, the class was amazing. And so were my fellow students and the assistant instructors, who were also there to learn. All were very supportive, patient, and helpful to me when I occasionally (okay, frequently) got frustrated. At the same time, they encouraged me to venture outside my comfort zone and push myself.

I didn't go over the edge nearly as much as other participants, though, since I wanted to concentrate on rigging and belaying, which are skills I'll use with my own team more often than not at this stage.

If you'd like to see more (and larger) photos from the past week, see Ropes That Rescue Rigging Class Photos: Sedona, Arizona.

A Week Of Technical Rescue

My living room is filled with gear. A bunch is for cold-weather camping. The rest is a big pile of tech rescue equipment required for the Ropes That Rescue course I'll be taking in Sedona, Arizona, from Saturday, February 13th through the following Friday—seven straight days of rigging and knot-tying, rappelling, belaying, climbing (eek!), and mock rescues.

I'll be taking the Mountain Rescue Workshop, which concentrates on "a minimalist approach to mountain rescue procedures and teaches the access, stabilization and extrication of patients involved in mid-face free or aid climbing accidents." I'll be joined by 11 other students from Arizona and beyond for a week of physical activity and fun... and a little stress on my part, which always seems to accompany me on tech rescue trainings.

So I'll be back after class and will let you know how it went.

A Severe Out-Of-Bounds Injury

He's an experienced backcountry snowboarder. In fact, he's a snowboard instructor. And he did have one of the free winter backcountry permits required for entering the wilderness from the Snowbowl ski area. (Note: This permit requirement has since been discontinued).

But accidents happen, of course, and this was a bad one. The 28-year-old snowboarder lost control on some ice and slammed into a tree, breaking his femur with knee involvement, an obviously very painful and potentially life-threatening injury should shock become a factor.

The victim was fortunate, though, that he was accompanied by three friends, one of whom stayed with him while two went for help. And luckily, Ski Patrol personnel were still on the mountain. They quickly came to the aid of the injured snowboarder and packaged him in a sked. While search and rescue was en route to the scene, we were in contact with these first responders, who kept us apprised of the victim's condition and their progress down the mountain.

In the meantime, a large group of us SAR volunteers deployed the snowcat and three snowmobiles. In the snowcat were a driver, a co-pilot/navigator, and five others, including myself and two Guardian medics, one of whom is also a SAR volunteer. The plan was to get us as far in as possible in the 'cat and then for some of us to continue on foot (on snowshoes, of course) to rendezvous with Ski Patrol and the victim.

Eventually, the snowcat began to bog down in very deep snow, so the five us in the back got out and snowshoed instead to lighten the load. We caught up to the snowcat when it could go no further, and then three of us continued upslope as the sun set and the glow of the full moon permeated the fog. Despite the task at hand, I couldn't help but notice what a beautiful evening it was on the mountain, a far cry from conditions during our last rescue in the middle of a blizzard.

Soon, our whistle blasts were answered by Ski Patrol, and we veered left toward the sound. Not a minute later, we spotted our moving target, making fast downhill progress with the aid of a rope attached to the sked. We'd heard they had to make several technical lowers along the way.

Time had been of the essence from the beginning, but now rescuers were even more concerned about the patient's condition. The three of us SAR folks could see that Ski Patrol wasn't about to stop for us to catch up . They were making a beeline toward the lights of the snowmobiles, which had stopped well short of the snowcat because of a mechanical issue. So, we radioed the 'cat crew and told them to go back the way they'd come, to meet Ski Patrol and the victim further down. We then snowshoed as quickly as we could to rendezvous with the whole group and got there soon after Ski Patrol and the snowcat connected.

The victim was alert but in agony. There's just no painless, gentle way to bring someone down a mountain. Not with that kind of injury. Add to that the fact that his leg was too deformed to put on a traction splint, and you're talking one extremely miserable patient. It was too cold to administer IV fluids or painkillers, so he had to wait till he was loaded into the back of the warmer snowcat. I later heard that nothing touched the pain, and every slight bump or lurch of the snowcat made him scream, which was constant, I'm afraid.

My snowshoeing teammates and I walked out as the snowcat delivered the patient to a waiting ambulance.

All in all, the mission went very well and quite fast (though I'm sure it seemed like an eternity to the victim), thanks in large part to the coordinated effort between Ski Patrol and SAR.

See the article in the Arizona Daily Sun: Ski patrol rescues out-of-bounds skier 

P-SAR On The Peaks

P stands for "preventative."

This past weekend, following a series of storms that dropped 92 inches (yes, you saw that correctly: that's nearly eight feet) of new snow on the San Francisco Peaks, a teammate and I took one of the P-SAR shifts at the top of the Agassiz chairlift (11,500 feet) at Snowbowl.

The backcountry was officially closed due to the extreme avalanche danger, so we were supposed to—try to—stop anyone from going out of bounds, or, if they insisted, to check to see that they had working avalanche beacons and survival gear.

If they got into trouble out there, they'd be on their own, not to mention risk criminal prosecution and a heavy fine for disregarding the official closure.

Luckily, we didn't have to try to stop anyone because no one tried to go beyond the boundary rope... at least, not where we were hanging out by the ski patrol shack. That common exit point was piled high with snow, with the sign pictured above blocking the way.

While people were apparently heeding the warning signs at the base of the ski area as well as the one where we were stationed, a few skiers and snowboarders did ask us questions, including when the backcountry would be opened. We couldn't really answer that, but we advised people to keep a lookout for a press release or word from Arizona Snowbowl on their website. (See the "News & Events" links on the homepage.) They could also call the Peaks Ranger District at (928) 526-0866 for information.

We did overhear talk amongst Snowbowl management and the Forest Service ranger on duty there as they were reviewing information from an aerial survey of the avalanche conditions and work being done on the ground, and we know they'll open the backcountry as soon as they deem conditions "reasonably safe."

Anyhow...

It was beautiful up there, even with the wind chill added to the 6-degree temp when we first arrived at the top of the lift line. It sure was nice to have the warm ski patrol shack to retreat into when we could no longer feel our noses or toes.

Here are a few more photos from the top...