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Saving People From Their Bad
Decisions:
"It is an unwritten rule of mountaineering that if someone becomes injured, you should abandon your plans for the summit to get them down," said experienced mountaineer and volunteer Mike Pelchat. This unwritten rule translates also to volunteers who might not be on the climb but are still part of the community of hikers and climbers. "It could happen to any one of us, and we would want someone to come for us," Mike said. "It's a way of giving back." With 30 years and a thousand rescues, and a personal interest in the history of search and rescue in the White Mountains, Mike is a resource of experience, anecdotes, and reflection on the trends in White Mountain rescues. While the history of White Mountain rescues begins with the early inn owners and guides, and now has a variety of groups in play, Mike's own interest in mountain rescue began with the winter he spent at Gray Knob in 1977-8. Living in the alpine zone in the wintertime, "I became enthralled with the mountains," he remembers. It was his first significant exposure to the backcountry, and he cites the book The Freedom of the Hills ("the mountaineer's bible," he calls it) with providing the link between backcountry travel and mountain rescue, in the opening of the chapter on first aid:
Mike started with a general first aid course, and when he was hired at Mount Washington State Park in 1979, the Commissioner of the NH Dept. of Resources and Economic Development at the time, Gus Gilman, encouraged Mike to take an EMT course. "I went from basic Red Cross First Aid to an EMT course," said Mike. From there, he joined the Gorham ambulance, and then the ski patrol at Wildcat where he got hands-on experience. "It's one thing to learn those skills, but it's another to use them in practice." In the early and mid 1980s, backcountry rescues were organized by Fish and Game wardens, and staffed by volunteers from the AMC. Listening to his scanner in Gorham, Mike would hear the first call come down from the AMC, whether from Tuckerman Ravine or elsewhere, and offer his services to the game warden. By the mid to late 1980s, the pool of AMC volunteers waned due to changes in housing. Now when a call came in, the volunteers were traveling long distances, creating a huge lag in response time. The system had become inefficient. "Eventually we realized that there was a core group of capable volunteers, the ski patrollers, local ambulance EMTs, and others, who were nearby," said Mike. From pooling those resources, the Androscoggin Valley Search and Rescue (AVSAR) team was born in February of 1989. The group swelled to 35 members. AVSAR was proposed as a part of the RMC at first, but concerns for liability made it independent. AVSAR initially worked through a telephone pyramid, as members passed the message along through a phone chain. Since then, there have been memorable rescues, many changes, but also consistent trends. A winter rescue that received media attention was Derek Tinkham in 1994. "What was remarkable about that one was the wind and cold," said Mike. Derek was left alone atop Mt. Jefferson in a night that bottomed out at -42F, with winds of 70-90 MPH. Many of the rescuers were themselves injured in the rescue attempt. "Goggles freeze up, they're just useless," said Mike. "Many of us experienced some degree of frostbite." In the winter, having the appropriate gear is key for both hiker and rescuer. "You have to do your homework more in the winter." Over time, Mike has come to swear by one necessary item (among many) in his pack: a four-person tent fly, which can quickly provide shelter from snow and wind. "It's impossible to change someone's clothes when there's snow and ice blowing everywhere," he said. For Mike, the most memorable rescues are the technical ones. "Whenever ropes are involved, that adds a lot of danger and commitment," he said. Ropes can be put into play when summer hikers fall down Huntington's, but "out of the thousands I've been on, the rescues on Cannon Cliff are the most memorable," he said. "For several years in a row we would get a call to help stuck rock climbers off Cannon Cliff," he said. One spot that stumped many climbers was the au-cheval beneath the Old Man of the Mountain's chin. The au-cheval is a 15-foot off-width crack that must be straddled with one leg in the crack and the other in air without the security of any protection. When climbers baffled by the move run out of daylight and other climbers are not in the area to drop them a top rope, they may need a rescue. When an overdue party was reported, and they were signed out for the Lakeview climb, "we knew right where they would be stuck," said Mike.
"I remember one night in particular during a terrible rain storm when we got the call," Mike said. "At the top of the cliff it was raining and blowing so hard it was like trying to do a technical rescue while being washed down with a high pressure fire hose." "When we tried to throw the rope down to the climbers the wind blew the rope back up so there was no question someone was going to have be lowered to get the rope down," said Mike. "Boy was I relieved when I heard Joe Lentini, director of the EMS Climbing School, yell out that it was Ian's turn to be the volunteer!" What has changed over the years are technological advances, increased professionalism, and a diversity of volunteer groups. Response time to rescues is quicker with a one-call phone system, so everyone gets a pre-recorded message. Helicopters are used more often now, especially by the National Guard. At the time of this writing in mid-September, the National Guard had just lifted a hiker out of the Mahoosuc Range in Maine. The relationship between volunteers and professionals has shifted as well. As AVSAR began to reach "burnout" in the mid-1990s, there was a push for other volunteer groups, said Mike. "We were going on a rescue a week in the summer," he said. Volunteer groups emerged to cover particular geographical areas: the Upper Valley Wilderness Response Team & Rescue (UVWRT), Pemi Valley Search & Rescue team (PVSAR) Rescue, and SOLO now serve as additional resources to the NH Fish & Game and the US Forest Service. Moreover, Fish and Game has now developed its own professional rescue team. "I feel that AVSAR volunteers are called upon only when our experience is really needed," Mike said. Yet many things remain the same. The best rescue volunteers remain those who are most comfortable in the backcountry, who do not mind being out in the cold and the dark. "It is a unique person who possesses the skills to be a dedicated volunteer rescue member," said Mike. "Being out at night in the winter can be a pretty spooky thing." Moreover, hikers still need help. The shoulder seasons continue to catch people unawares, especially in the fall when the days are shorter and early snow storms and glaze ice surprise hikers. Camp and school groups often do not plan according to their abilities, and other groups get separated when they do not hike as fast as their slowest member. People are generally less prepared to spend a night out in the summertime, said Mike. "What leads to a rescue is not one bad decision but a series of bad decisions," said Mike. For every rescue or death there are a hundred close calls. (I can think of a few of my own from my personal experience). To explain the constants of hiker behavior, Mike turns to the well-known story of Lizzie Bourne, who died on the summit in 1855. Lizzie and her companions started late in the day, were ill-equipped with mostly light clothing, headed up a trail that they were unfamiliar with, refused to turn back when they could have, and as a result were benighted in clouds. They were not prepared, did not listen to warnings from the experienced, and did not recognize their own limitations. In the end, Lizzie died from "exposure" (hypothermia). The same mistakes are being made today. Mike sees them pass through the State Park on Mt Washington. "There will always be someone repeating Lizzie Bourne," Mike said. However, reciprocally, there will always be a core group of capable volunteers, members of the brotherhood of hikers who know that one day it could be them and who will respond to the call for a rescue. Sally Manikian has been a winter caretaker for the RMC, worked with the AMC in the muddy Mahoosucs last summer, and writes for the Berlin Reporter. She is a new RMC Board member.
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The
story is the same. Whether benighted, lost, injured, or ill-prepared
(sometimes all of the above), hikers sometimes make a series
of bad decisions that lead to the need for help. In the White
Mountains, there has been a dedicated group of volunteers who
leave the comfort and safety of their own homes to come to the
aid of a fellow hiker.
The
rescue would involve members of the Mountain Rescue Service (MRS)
out of Conway and AVSAR members (and Randolph residents) Paul
Cormier or Ian Turnbull. "We had a pretty good system figured
out where a volunteer would be lowered from the top of the climb
for 80' to the climbers, attach them to ropes, then those at
the top with a 3:1 pulley system would haul the climbers up,"
Mike said, and almost everyone had a chance to be a volunteer
lowered over the edge.