Some PSAR: The Highpointers Are in Town

Mission-wise, things have been quiet for the last couple of weeks, since Labor Day weekend. But our SAR team has had some PSAR to do in the meantime. PSAR stands for preventative search and rescue, which basically involves walking heavily used trails and stationing ourselves in high-visibility areas to answer questions, make sure folks are prepared for what they're doing or setting out to do, and sometimes disseminating informational brochures or just saying a friendly hello to passers by.

This week, the Highpointers are in town for their "konvention" on Humphrey's Peak. Until one of our SAR general meetings a couple of months ago, I hadn't heard of this club with a membership that has an age range of something like five years to 90. The club's purpose, as quoted from their website, is to "promote climbing to the highest point in each of the fifty (50) states; provide a forum for education about the highpoints; aid in the preservation and conservation of the highpoints and their environs; provide a vehicle through which persons with this common goal can meet and correspond with one another; maintain positive relationships with owners of highpoints on private property; assist in the care and maintenance of highpoints; and support public and private efforts to maintain the integrity of and access to state highpoints." Got all that? I've even heard that some club members try to hit high points in all counties as well.

Anyhow, with something like 350 more people than usual hiking Humphreys and other popular Flagstaff trails this week, our SAR team did some planning, parked a command trailer up at the Snowbowl ski area at the Humphreys trailhead, and made ourselves noticeable and available on the mountain, hiking (and riding horses) around with our SAR shirts and radios on. Our goal was not only to do some PSAR but to have team members in the area in case an incident were to occur. It's now Friday morning, the final full day of the Highpointers event and, so far, all is well.

I think the Highpointers Club is pretty cool. And being a list-maker and a goal-oriented girl myself, this makes me go, "Hmm..."

And thank you, Renee from Tidewater Search & Rescue for telling me about a book written by a Highpointer. She tells me it's a fun and easy read, by two men who completed the 50-state quest. It's called, To The Top: Reaching for America's 50 State Summits.

Carrying a Man off Mt. Humphreys

Two days later, my arms are still sore — but in a good way. I feel like I did something and actually helped, compared to the rescue on Mt. Humphreys a couple of months ago (about which I now realize I didn't write a blog entry). During that earlier rescue involving a man from Mississippi who'd broken his ankle when he stepped over a log and landed wrong, I was tentative and only put my hands on the litter a few times. Granted, it was a more difficult evacuation along a somewhat treacherous and snowy route, but I felt more like a bystander than a useful part of the team.

This time around, we were called to evacuate a hiker in his early 50s who'd experienced shortness of breath and chest tightness while descending from the 12,633-foot summit. We were told that the man, named Andrew, has a stint in his heart but is accustomed to climbing Camelback Mountain in Phoenix quite often and has also climbed Mt. Humphreys since the stint was put in. So, this wasn't anything new for him.

When I arrived at the trailhead, having responded directly to the mountain rather than the SAR building, a small team including at least one of our volunteers and a medic was already on the trail. Their goal was to locate Andrew and determine his condition. Meanwhile, another team, including two more SAR members and additional medical personnel, was loading gear into a vehicle, preparing to drive up a ski area service road and then switchbacks on one of the runs to try to get the equipment closer to the subject.

By having access to that locked service road, search and rescue is able to bypass part of the Humphreys Trail and, therefore, save crucial time and human energy. It also allows us to evacuate a subject more quickly. When I got to the staging area, however, Andrew's exact location on the trail was still unknown.

As I waited with our coordinator, team captain, and Guardian Medical battalion chief in the parking lot at the lodge, another contingent of our SAR team arrived. They brought with them our new Polaris Ranger UTV, which I learned to drive at the SAR conference in Heber, Arizona, earlier this year.

Sergeant D pointed at me and said, "Deb is the certified driver." Yay, I was gonna get to drive the "little car" on it's maiden mission! 

Okay, I thought to myself, the gas is on the right, brake on the left. I can do this.

So, up the service road I went with my cohort, Liz, squished in the middle next to me and Scott, a very experienced member of our team, next to her. Behind us was the rest of our crew in a SAR vehicle. I was directed to stop on the service road rather than continue up the switchbacks on the ski run, so the UTV drive was easy and without any of the steep side-tilt that makes me a wee bit nervous. Phew.

From where we parked, our group continued on foot, straight up the mountain with a break-apart titanium litter with the wheel attached, to intersect the trail. As we huffed and puffed and sweat, the initial team found Andrew, and the second team, who had driven up the ski slope, also made their way to that location. Our group arrived at the trail several hundred feet below the subject, so we continued huffing and puffing, taking turns pushing and pulling the litter. If it was this tough without a patient in it, I couldn't wait to see how difficult this was going to get. At least we'd be going down, I thought.

But I soon found that going down didn't seem to make much difference. If anything, it was more difficult. But at least we had a lot of people to help, so we all were able to switch out and change sides (and, therefore, arms) as often as needed.

I was happy to find that our subject was alert and generally in good spirits, though he'd needed significant assistance standing up and getting over to the litter. During the carry-out, the medics continuously monitored his blood pressure and pulse, and a portable machine printed out what looked like an EKG. Apparently, the oxygen the medics were giving Andrew was helping. The only things that seemed to be bothering him during the evacuation were a sore back due to insufficient padding on the litter and concern about how much the helicopter ride to the hospital was going to cost. (No one seemed sure about the answer, given that it was a Guardian, not a DPS, helicopter that was en route to the mountain. Someone replied, "I think it's the same cost as an ambulance ride.")

I do want to mention how great it was to see that another hiker, who'd happened along when Andrew was in distress, had stopped and stayed with him. I don't know the young man's name, but he not only assisted with the carry-out and carried Andrew's backpack, but he told Andrew he'd drive his vehicle to the hospital and meet him there. Andrew had come to Mt. Humphreys alone, but he left with a friend. What a great guy.

Anyhow, to our relief, we finished the evacuation before dark. When we emerged from the trees onto the service road where I'd parked the UTV, our patient, still on the litter, was loaded onto the back of the vehicle. Next to him was a rear-facing seat for a medic. And I was again the driver.

Though my companion in the front asked me if the UTV could go any faster, I drove fairly slow, easing over the biggest bumps. Granted, Andrew had been rolled over lots of bumps during the carry-out, but I figured there was no need to jostle him any more than necessary. Besides, I knew from the traffic coming over the radio in my chest harness that the Guardian helicopter had not yet arrived at the landing zone (LZ). So there was no need to rush.

As we got closer to the LZ on the lower part of the Hart Prairie ski run—just a grassy field covered with prairie dog holes until the first winter snow—I heard that the helicopter was a minute out. What good timing. I could hear it approaching as I came to a stop in the parking lot at the edge of the field. I wanted to let them land, then wait for instruction before driving any closer. But then I heard the pilot say she was going to circle for a while to burn off fuel. I don't know much about helicopters, but I do know they're sensitive to weight, air temperature, and altitude, so I guess the pilot felt it was best to reduce the weight given the  conditions.

As it turns out, Andrew probably could have gotten to the hospital faster in the ambulance that was parked right next to us than he eventually did in the helicopter. But the medics felt he was stable, and Andrew himself seemed rather content. In fact, he was chatting with people coming off the trail, who walked over to see what was going on.

So, there was Andrew, flat on his back, strapped to the litter, which was strapped to the UTV, with several people standing around talking. Sergeant D even got his interview with Andrew done while we watched the helicopter make huge circles in the air.

About 20y minutes after we arrived near the LZ, the helicopter landed, and we carried Andrew over to it. The aircraft has a litter platform that angles out for loading. When you put the patient on there and then push the platform back into the helicopter, Andrew's feet are right next to the pilot.

Moments later, Guardian lifted off as I returned to the UTV. I managed to drive it onto the trailer—another first for me, and phew again—and then search and rescue and Guardian personnel had a debriefing before both teams went their separate ways.

All in all, the evacuation went very well. Good communication, good team work. And, this time, I definitely felt like part of it.

He Plugged His Ears?

I'm supposed to be at work right now, and I guess that's bothering me a little. I haven't been late or missed a day in the five years I've been at my current job. But this first time, I think it's warranted and that my boss will understand. We've been searching for a lost 15-year-old boy for the last 10 hours, since late last night.

It was so dark with no moonlight at all. When I turned off my headlamp, I couldn't see my hand just inches from my face. As three of us searched, calling for Blaine and blowing our whistles along the Mormon Mountain Trail, I thought about how scared I'd be, even as an adult, being lost out there alone all night long. And it got pretty chilly just before dawn. The boy, we're told, was wearing desert camouflage and carrying no extra clothing.

Blaine came up from Phoenix with his uncle to do some archery deer hunting in the Mormon Lake area. His uncle dropped him off at the gate near the top of Mormon Mountain at 2:00 yesterday afternoon, with an arranged rendezvous time at that same location. But Blaine didn't make it back. At 7:30 p.m., he made a cellphone call to his uncle, saying his GPS had run out of battery and he'd gotten lost. The reception was poor, and the conversation was short.

The uncle told us he'd fired off 30 rounds to try to help the boy navigate to his location. No further cellphone contact was made, and it appears Blaine's phone may have since gone dead — our calls keep going right to voice mail.

Blaine's uncle had a spotlight, which he pointed straight up, hoping to provide a beacon once it got dark. But even if Blaine could and did see the light, he had no light source himself, so navigating this rocky, thickly forested terrain would have been just about impossible. If he did try to move, injury would be a likely scenario, so hopefully the boy stayed put at least until first light.

The deputy in charge of this search in Sergeant D's absence told us Blaine's last cellphone call had bounced off a tower near I-17. That gave us some indication of what side of the mountain Blaine would have been on at the time of that call. So we took that into consideration when coming up with a game plan.

Given that only three of us SAR members were able to respond last night, we had to search on foot as a single team while Blaine's family and the deputy drove the perimeter roads throughout the night.

After we cleared the area along the Mormon Mountain Trail, finding no footprints and not establishing voice contact despite all the noise we made, which seemed to carry far in the stillness, a deputy picked us up and drove us back to the top of the mountain.

So, what now?

We decided that a little rest was in order, and we'd wait until dawn to continue our search. At that time, another call-out would be made to hopefully get some additional help and cover more area. So, Bob, Joe, and I climbed into SAR vehicles, made ourselves as comfortable as possible, and got some spotty shut-eye for about an hour. As soon as we could see without headlamps, we resumed searching.

We've just finished bushwhacking around the mountaintop, shouting down slope and searching for clues. Everyone is getting progressively more worried. Is the boy injured and unresponsive? Could he have crossed over the perimeter road and kept going? If so, he might be pretty far away after walking since 2 p.m. yesterday. Could someone have picked him up along the road?

We're glad that Flagstaff Ranger, the DPS helicopter, has now arrived, flying a grid pattern over the mountain. And we're told six additional SAR members are on their way with Sergeant D, as well as several deputies who'll assist. We've asked them to bring ATVs too. There are many two-tracks in the area that aren't even on the maps.

In the meantime, the three of us who are on our second—or third—wind will drive some other Forest Service roads. We're now heading down the road from the top of the mountain, and we see one of the family's vans coming up. They stop, and we roll down our windows to talk to the uncle, who's gotten out and is walking our way. He still doesn't look particularly alarmed. Like last night, he seems almost nonchalant, confident that his nephew will turn up.

He walks over to our driver's side window.

"We haven't found anything yet," Bob tells the uncle. "But more searchers are on their way."

There's a pause.

"Great," the uncle replies. "Well, actually... we found him."

What? Yay! I'm so relieved.

"Is he okay?" I ask, while Bob fishes for the radio to inform Incident Command.

"Yeah, he's fine."

"Great! Where did you find him? Where was he last night?"

The uncle proceeds to tell us that they found Blaine on this same road, heading down from the top, where he'd seen one of our SAR vehicles but it was unoccupied at the time. So he kept walking toward the place where he and his uncle had camped at the base of the mountain the night before last.

And where was Blaine last night? A little ways off the Mormon Mountain Trail! But... that's where we'd been calling for him.

"Yeah," said the uncle, "he plugged his ears and went to sleep. When he woke up this morning, he heard the siren, but he went back to sleep for a while."

He plugged his ears! Why, that little ... uh, I mean, that brave boy. I'm so glad he's okay.

I check my watch. Well, I can probably be at the office by noon.

SAR Updates and Clarifications

Last night, our SAR unit held the monthly general meeting, where we discussed this past month's missions and received updated information about a high-profile mission that took place more than two years ago.

So, I wanted to share some of what we learned.

Regarding the flood in Havasu Canyon, there have been some misleading news stories floating around, not the least of which was a local Fox News report I saw yesterday afternoon, stating, "The Grand Canyon will be closed for four weeks following extensive damage caused by flash-flooding. 173 people were airlifted out of the Canyon." No, the Grand Canyon isn't closed; Havasupai is closed to tourists until further notice, but the National Park is open as usual. So if the NPS sees a sudden and dramatic decline in visitation to the Canyon, I guess they have Fox to thank for the solitude (and loss of revenue). And I believe the official number of people evacuated from Havasupai was 406. We counted names while working on the list back at the Sheriff's office on Tuesday.

We were told the Coconino County Sheriff's Office had to set up a call center, in large part due to at least one news outlet that reported a dam had broken at the Grand Canyon, and then they showed a picture of Glen Canyon Dam! People were freaking out, calling to say they had loved ones in the canyon and on the Colorado River. What actually failed was the small, earthen Redlands Dam about 45 miles upstream of Havasupai. That dam failed after days of heavy rain, up to eight inches since Friday, but the flooding in Havasu Canyon was occurring even before the dam breach.

I'm also unsure about my previous statement that two homes may have been lost in the village of Supai. While I did hear that bit of information while at Haulapai Hilltop on Sunday, other reports stated that no structures were lost, so I'll count that as rumor at the moment. Surely, many of the houses in Supai were in disrepair before this past weekend's flooding, so it's possible that even minor flooding in the village, which is higher up than the campground that was wiped out, did just enough additional damage to count some homes as "lost." But not having seen the village myself or received official word on that, I can't be sure.

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Some of you may have read my earlier report called "They Call Her Cinder Hill Cindy," the name given to then-unidentified skeletal remains found on Navajo Army Depot grounds in early August, near Bellemont, Arizona. I later updated my blog with the name of the woman once a positive ID was made following our evidence search in the area and subsequent forensic testing.

Last night at our meeting, the lead detective on the case filled in some additional detail. Thirty-three year-old Julie Renee Windhorn's backpack had been found in the early spring of 2007 near Old Munds Highway by some boys looking for salamanders. In the backpack was a passport and a note with suicidal implications. An attorney from Virginia, Julie had been having some emotional and mental health issues before her disappearance, so the note did follow suit. In the backpack was also a vehicle insurance card, but Julie's vehicle has yet to be found.

At this point, the cause of Julie's death is still considered unknown, but evidence points to hypothermia. Julie's remains and her neatly laid-out clothing and ID were found about 15 miles from where her backpack was discovered a year and a half earlier. Our unit may be called out later this year, when the leaves have dropped off the thick underbrush in the area, to do another search for more bones and any other evidence that might turn up. At this point, there's no indication of foul play in this case.

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One case that did involve foul play was that of Tamomi Hanamure, a 34-year-old Japanese tourist who was murdered at Havasupai in May, 2006, the same area where the flooding occurred this past weekend. Tamomi was reported missing when a maid at the Supai Lodge discovered that the young woman's personal belongings were still in her room after checkout time and the bed had not been slept in. A search was initiated involving multiple agencies, including Coconino County Search & Rescue.

I was not yet on the team at the time of this mission, but I've heard numerous conversations about it since I joined, as well as a previous update by the FBI after the 19-year-old perpetrator's guilty plea was accepted and sentencing took place. The killer, a Supai resident, tried to be the "hero," telling authorities he'd discovered the body when in fact he'd gotten nervous seeing all the uniformed personnel and bloodhounds closing in on Tamomi's location. He somehow thought the attention would be focused on other people if it was him who led them to the victim.

An FBI dive team later located the knife used in the attack, in the water not far from where Tomomi's body was found. Testing at a crime lab also revealed that the t-shirt worn by the killer contained Tamomi's blood, though it couldn't be seen by the naked eye. This evidence, along with the killer's eventual detailed confession, resulted in four consecutive life sentences with no possibility of parole.

Last night, we saw a slideshow of the search for and discovery of Tamomi Hanamure's body. The detective said it was one of the most emotional cases he'd ever worked on, and I know it had a significant impact on my SAR teammates who participated in the mission. Tamomi was enamored with the United States and the Grand Canyon in particular. She'd been to the canyon two or three times before and this time was going to visit the waterfalls in Havasupai as a 34th birthday gift to herself. The detective told us that Tamomi was an only child and her father's world. I couldn't stop staring at her photo up on the screen, taken shortly before her hike into the canyon.

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Well, I do hope the next couple of days at least will be quiet ones when it comes to searching and rescuing. I absolutely love being part of the team and the volunteer work we do, but it sure seems like it's been nonstop lately following a relatively quiet July. Somehow, though, I sense that my trusty little pager is juuuust about to sing.

A Grand Canyon and Havasupai Flood SAR

What a stark contrast, going from the scene of rescue efforts at Havasupai to this little office at the apartment complex where I work two days a week. I've gone from interviewing people who'd scrambled for their lives when a wall of water came rumbling through the narrow canyon to writing up maintenance work orders for tenants with clogged toilets.

The people who were rescued, many of whom had lost everything but the clothes on their backs, and some of those in just bathing suits and bare feet were in good spirits, while today I've dealt with tenants who are cranky because the staff haven't been quick enough replacing window blinds they (the tenants) broke. Wow. What a contrast indeed.

The flooding in Havasu Canyon began on Saturday afternoon, August 16, and was still happening on Monday the 18th. Havasu is a side canyon of the Grand Canyon, located about 30 miles west of the South Rim. Havasu Canyon is part of the Indian reservation of the same name, with the small village of Supai at the bottom. The village is accessible only by helicopter or an eight-mile hiking and pack-mule trail.

About 450 out of a total of roughly 650 members of the tribe live in Supai, and their primary source of income is tourist dollars from those who visit the incredibly beautiful waterfalls and pools about two miles down canyon from the village. At this time of year, a weekend can see hundreds of visitors, as was the case this past weekend when monsoon rains caused flash-flooding, which in turn breached an earthen dam near Williams, Arizona, exacerbating already dangerous conditions in Havasu. The usually blue-green water was running brown with mud, laden with debris and boulders.

Our unit was called out on Sunday morning, August 17, along with members of the Mohave County Search & Rescue team, the National Guard, National Park Service, members of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, the Department of Public Safety, Red Cross, Salvation Army, and probably others I'm not aware of.

Though there are certainly common elements, each person involved in the flood has a unique story, from the more than 400 tourists and Supai residents rescued by helicopter to the pilots and crew on those helicopters to both paid and volunteer rescue personnel in and on the rim of the canyon. During my interviews, which were intended to document everyone who came out of the canyon and find out if anyone in their party was missing or if they'd seen anyone injured or swept off by the flood, I heard many of those stories.

Most told of being suddenly awakened in the middle of the night by the loud rumble of water, falling rocks, and shouting. One man told me three kids had clung to a tree for hours until they were rescued. A couple and their dog were stranded on a rock in the middle of the flood. Sixteen people from a river trip, who had stopped at the confluence of Havasu Creek and the Colorado River, had to be short-hauled off a cliff after their boats were washed away and they'd had to quickly climb to avoid the same fate. I heard that two houses in Supai were lost.

For hours, I took names, addresses, dates of birth, and other information from evacuees, often waiting while they practically inhaled some food before they'd answer my next question. The Salvation Army provided food and drinks to the hungry and parched people airlifted out of the canyon, as well as to those of us working the evacuation.

One thing I noted as I watched the activity at the "Hilltop Helispot" location on the rim of Havasu Canyon, where evacuees were first "processed" after coming off the helicopters, is that one could not differentiate between those who were paid personnel and who were volunteers. All were working with enthusiasm or waiting with good spirits between assigned tasks. And when given a new task, each person jumped to work. While there are always opportunities to learn and improve, I was really impressed with the effort and the coordination between units and by how well everyone worked together. Overall, it was a successful effort, and as far as we know, there was no loss of life from the flood.

To be sure, however, air and ground searches are ongoing. And, as of Tuesday morning, I heard that residents of Supai who'd been evacuated were being allowed to return to their village, which has sustained considerable damage. The campground has apparently been wiped out. My husband and I are going to look into how we might go about volunteering in the rebuilding efforts.

Read the latest article in the Arizona Daily Sun here: Supai flood evacuees scramble to safety.

Two Nights In a Row and Now on Stand-by

So, I'm sitting here with my pack loaded, ready to be self-sufficient for 48 hours as instructed, waiting to be called to leave for the Grand Canyon with other members of our SAR team.

Last night around 8:00, my pager went off with an 888 code, meaning it was a stand-by call. Our coordinator's message said that four boats had been found floating down the Colorado River about 10 miles past the confluence with Havasu Creek. Life jackets were tied to the boats, but no one was on board. The boats were pulled from the river at Fern Glenn Rapid, but the status of the passengers was unknown. Sergeant D said he'd update us either late last night or early this morning.

By 9:30 a.m., there still had been no further update, so I decided to go running. When I returned, I found a cellphone message from one of our team leaders, asking if I'd be available from "now" through Tuesday night. I called him back and found out that the boat incident from last night had become part of a much larger situation, and the National Guard had been called in, too.

Flash-flooding had caused a dam break near Tusayan, in turn flooding Cataract Canyon, which leads into Havasu Canyon. Havasu Canyon then intersects with the Grand Canyon and the Colorado River. The Native American village of Supai, with 400-some-odd residents, is located at the bottom of Havasu Canyon, and that village is now being evacuated along with an unknown number of campers. Havasu Canyon is a popular destination, especially for its waterfalls and beautiful natural pools. At the moment, I don't know much more about the unfolding situation, but I was told that search and rescue will be asked to "look for bodies." 

So, as I continue to sit here next to my backpack full of gear and 48 hours-worth of food and liquids, I'll tell you about Friday night's search.

Thursday night was the Kendrick Peak search for two men who'd tried to take a shortcut off the mountain that backfired quite miserably. I'd gotten up that morning around six and was just about to fall asleep Thursday night when my pager beeped at 11 p.m. That mission had lasted until 9:30 Friday morning, at which time I had to take care of a full day of obligations. At 8:00 Friday night, with no sleep since I'd gotten out of bed 38 hours earlier, my pager went off again. This time, it was a call-out for a search for two young men in the area of the Arizona Trail on Anderson Mesa near Flagstaff.

So, off I went for a second time in two nights. I soon found out that the two lost hikers had called 9-1-1 from a cell phone, so I figured this probably wouldn't be a tough mission. There are all sorts of Forest Service roads up on the mesa, so access shouldn't be a problem. And by the time we got to the staging area, the helicopter had spotted the two men and provided coordinates.

But getting to them wasn't quite as easy. Four members of our group set off on foot along the Arizona Trail, while Bob and I drove rough dirt roads at a snail's pace. The hikers were no longer on the AZ Trail but on one of those secondary forest roads, and we didn't know if we could get all the way to them by vehicle.

Sure enough, a large mud puddle put a stop to our driving, so Bob and I set off on foot. We had some trouble locating the intersection with the obscure road the hikers were on, and in the meantime, the other ground-pounder team reached the young men.

As we finally located the intersection, the team with the hikers headed our way, and soon we met up and walked to the truck. We skirted around the big mud puddle and everybody piled in, with some of our team in the truck bed. Bob and I gave 'em a good teeth-rattling and sore heineys on the ride back, but all was well that ended well.

I returned home at 2 a.m. Saturday and got the best six hours of sleep I think I've ever had. Probably could have used more, but the sun shining through the window wouldn't let me stay in bed.

And now I'll go back to my waiting and knee-bouncing with my backpack at the ready until it's time to go to the Grand Canyon.