Search Overdue Hiker

December 31, 2012
Pinyon Pines Area
2012-046

Written by Part 1 - Helene Lohr
Part-2 - Alan Lovegreen

Part 1 - New Year's Eve 2012

The call out came late in the afternoon on the last day of 2012. "We have a lost hiker in Pinyon Pines area; call the rescue line with your availability. A call to our call captain fleshes out the details. A man out for an overnight backpack has just been reported missing by his girlfriend in the steep ridges and canyon lands surrounding Martinez Peak. We had planned to celebrate that night in the high country, ringing in the New Year with a bottle of wine and an inaugural snow camp. Holiday plans foiled again! Well, at least my pack would be ready for a rescue with just some minor editing.

We swing a hard left and pull into our designated base at the local fire station, tires biting into the gravel of the parking lot. The RMRU Rescue truck is already on scene and Glenn and Gwenda are conferring with the deputy. Lee and I join in. We learn that a helicopter in the area last night spotted a small fire along the east face of Martinez. A quick review of the topographic map and rough coordinates from the helicopter help us to form a plan. Since it is unknown if this is our subject, it is decided that we need to cover as much ground as possible. In this type of scenario, it is likely that he will have taken the route of least resistance and headed down into the canyons below, but if not, we need to cover the upper elevations as well.

Lee and I will head up a fire road that wraps up and around the mountain towards the fire's coordinates. Freshly arriving RMRU members will be diverted down Sawmill Trail to the search along the canyon floor. Neighboring DSSAR members will be covering the search efforts from the desert side of the mountain.

Lee and I throw our packs back into the bed of his truck and swing out of the parking lot and onto HWY 74. A sharp left off of the pavement onto gritty dirt takes us to Pigeon Springs Road. The going is slow. The road is deeply rutted and the recent cold spell has left a fresh coating of crusty snow along the north facing switchbacks. At the mouth of each ravine we stop, turn off the engine, and get out of the car to yell out, our voices echoing through the canyons. Our calls hover in the air for a while, but bring only silence as a reply.

As we reach our target overlook, we hear from base that Les Walker and Ralph Hoetger are now on trial in the deep maze of canyons below us. Patrick McCurdy, Steve Bryant, Carlos Carter, Alan Lovegreen, and Roger Barry are en route and will be arriving soon to add strength to our numbers.

Looking down, I have a clear view of the vast labyrinth spread out into the distance. After quieting the engine, we step out onto a thin crust of snow. It crunches beneath my heavy boots as we climb up onto a conveniently placed boulder to yell again. We aim our chests towards a large bare slope several miles in the distance. I start the count: "1...2...3..." I stretch my lungs full with air and we bellow out in unison: "Hello!" The sound reverberates through the canyons and disappears.

Suddenly, out of the silence, there comes a faint call. A man's voice! We call again, and again... Holding our breath till bursting in the hopes that we will hear a return call... And each time, we barely make out the edge of a voice, far away. After the third call, there is again only silence in response to our yells. Maybe the wind has shifted, maybe our subject has grown tired, or maybe this is not even the man we are looking for. A quick call in to base confirms that none of the other rescuers have recently yelled out. They did hear our calls, and one also reports hearing the same lone voice calling back.

Next, the critical question: where did the voice come from?

The Pinyon area is a unique terrain for sound. As sound bounces across the land, the varying contours and vegetation will shape it differently. In our usual high country terrain, heavy tree coverage on the reflecting slopes muffles the sound and spreads it out, the thousands of pine needles reflecting sound vibrations in thousands of directions. In Pinyon's mix of steep slopes, sparse brush, packed desert gravel, and rock faces, sound can travel for astonishing distances as it hits and bounces sharply back like a ball off of a pool table. We would later learn that our calculations on the distance, direction, and source of the calls was correct, and the subject had indeed heard our calls from miles to the north and west, and became hoarse from yelling back.

Looking at the shape and angle of the slope from which the call is reflecting suggests to me that it is probably echoing to us from several miles to the South and East. This puts it roughly in line with the coordinates of the fire from the previous night. Still, we can't be certain that this is our man. We also can't be certain of the exact location of the voice. It's not much to go on. After more discussion it is suggested by base that Lee and I join the Horsethief Creek crew and explore the lower canyons.

While Lee is on the radio discussing our next step, something catches my eye that is not marked on the topographic map. A trail peels off of our dirt road, heading to the east slightly below the elevation of the reported coordinates from last night. It is heading the correct direction to take us at least part of the way there.

I show my discovery to Lee. We have cell service, so we take a minute to research it on Google Earth. Bingo! There is a clear-cut trail for a good section of the hike. This presents us with a new option: the rest of the team is taking the low road, why not have us take the high road? If the subject was the source of the fire last night then we might be the best positioned to find him if we continue contouring the mountain towards the southeast at constant elevation.

We call in our plan for approval. "Base, this is team one. We've got an idea." Lee quickly explains our plan and we receive the go-ahead to explore this new trail. Swinging myself out of the truck I feel the familiar bite of cold on my cheeks. It's already in the teens and falling fast. Lee and I cross check our gear and make sure that we have adequate food, water, and extra warm clothing for what promises to be a frigid night.

We take our first steps down the trail as the sun looms low in west. Already in deep shadow behind the sharp ridgelines ourselves, the desert in the distance glows in contrast with a warm light. The excitement of discovering and exploring an unmarked trail fuels us and we make good time forward despite the cold. The rough brush has been cut back by pruning shears and trail ducks perched on boulders help guide the way. As we move through the unfamiliar terrain, we mark turnings in the trail by dragging deep cuts in the wet earth with our feet, knowing that we will likely have to find our way back in the black of night.

As we travel onwards, we discover unexpected benefits of our new trail. Traversing high up on the surface of the mountain, we are in a unique position to overlook the steep canyons and deep valleys below. The rescuers within the deep ravines are effectively isolated, their voices limited by the canyon walls. Their calls can only echo along their canyon or straight up into the night air- only carrying so far. Our position allows our voices to carry down into all the ravines stretching out below us.

We're also in perfect position for radio relay. Our standard radio relay at Tewanet overlook has already lost contact with the team members in the deepest canyons, so we take over their duties. A new reliable location for relay is good information for future missions and we take special note. Even if we don't find the subject, we've discovered a potential asset for the team on future Pinyon searches.

A couple of hours into the dark hike, our radios crackle with encouraging news: "The copter thinks they've found him"! The darkness has revealed a new fire on the Southeast face of the mountain. Hovering nearby, the aviation crew communicates with the man by loudspeaker and confirms his identity. Great news! Unfortunately, this is New Year’s Eve and a helicopter crew that can hoist at night in the mountains is not available.

Discussion ensues. If necessary, our ground team will be sent the many arduous miles cross country to secure the subject's safety. After aviation confers again with the subject, this is deemed not necessary. Now that his location has been established and we know that he has enough supplies and warmth to spend one more night, the call is made to extract him in the safety of morning light.

As I follow Lee down the trail the excitement of the search starts to wear off and I begin to feel all the small aches and pains of the day. My throat burns from yelling and my sore ankle is flaring sharply every time I take a misstep on the rocky trail. That doesn't really matter though, because there's still just enough time to get home before midnight and crack open that bottle of wine. Happy New Years!

Part 2 - New Year's Day 2013

We arrive at 6 a.m. on New Year's morning to the Sheriff's Aviation hanger located at Hemet-Ryan Airport. Based on our information the previous night, Patrick and I are expecting to retrieve the subject using a hoist rescue. Hoist rescues are exciting opportunities to use both technical skills and work around helicopters, and we had just recertified for such "Helicopter" rescues in December 2012.

Our Pilot, Tony Bowen and Technical Flight Officer, Eric Hannum, motion us into the Star-9 Helicopter, and in a few minutes we are airborne. Our aircraft points toward the subject's last known position, and we whisk over the landscape, lower windows revealing a patchwork of shrub and snow sliding below. Occasional wind gusts push the aircraft in sliding yaws. My headset's connection is faulty, so I watch the scenery as Tony, Eric, and Patrick converse.

As we head into the high hills near Dark Canyon, Tony banks to the port side to pass by Toro Peak, and I can see a pillar of smoke coming from the subject's fire. The subject did exactly the right thing; he built a fire and stayed put. As our helicopter slows to a hover, Patrick leans in and lets me know that the mission parameters have changed. Tony is going to set us down in lieu of performing a hoist, and I am going to retrieve the subject. Because we will be landing, my job is to bring the subject back to the aircraft and then properly extinguish his fire. The aircraft's skids set down in the snow 100 yards from the subject, and I quickly move out underneath the moving rotors.

A copse of trees separates the landing zone and the subject, so I push through a tangle of their branches. I am expecting the subject to be moving toward the aircraft, so when I emerge from the trees I am taken aback by the tableau vivant; the subject, a tall man standing tall and holding an even taller walking staff in one hand, is gazing motionlessly at me. He looks like a forlorn Moses. Only the smoke billowing out from the fire pit behind him is motion, and I approach him with an outstretched, gloved hand, asking, "How's it going?" He ignores my hand and gives me a collapsing embrace, and I realize that I've never in my life had anyone seem so relieved to see me.

Rescuer in orange and Subject aproaching Helicopter

Alan and Subject aproaching Helicopter in Field
Photo by Patrick McCurdy

I grab the subject's bag, and thread us back through the tree cover. We duck his tall frame under the whirring rotors and, after he's in the aircraft, I venture back out to take care of his fire. Patrick is our most experienced medical officer, and he assesses the subject's health while the aircrew waits for my return. Five frenzied minutes of heaving snow later, I'm back in the helicopter. We lift off and minutes later are setting down again to drop the subject off with a Sheriff's Deputy who has been waiting on a nearby fire road. Soon enough we are back in the air, heading home. Our return trip is again quiet for me due to the headset malfunction. As Tony lands back on the helicopter dolly back at Hemet-Ryan I look at my watch. The entire trip "My first helicopter rescue" had taken less than one hour.

Rescuer and Subject in Helicopter

Alan giving Subject a hot drink in Helicopter
Photo by Patrick McCurdy

RMRU team members present: Lee Arnson, Roger Barry, Steve Bryant, Carlos Carter, Glenn Henderson, Ralph Hoetger, Helene Lohr, Alan Lovegreen, Patrick McCurdy, Les Walker, and Gwenda Yates.

Aviation assets: CHP Air Operations Unit, Riverside Sheriff's Star-9.

Assisting agencies: Desert Search and Rescue (DSAR).