Chapter Eleven
Saturday found Bethany at Caspar Canyon with search and rescue, contemplating a spiderweb of ropes and miscellaneous hardware arrayed at the top of the cliff.
“We’re going to run a couple of scenarios today to teach you more about working with rigging for rescue work,” Tony told the gathered volunteers.
“You’ll learn some terminology and safety rules and get a feel for the kind of scenarios you might encounter—situations some of you have already encountered.
We’ll have a volunteer play the role of injured climber, and Ryan and Eldon will be in charge of the rigging. ”
Carter stepped forward. “I volunteer to be the injured climber.”
“Thanks,” Tony said. “But Grace is going to fulfill that role.” He gestured to the equipment laid out in front of them. “Bethany, can you hand me a DCD?”
She scanned the array of tools and selected the descent control device and handed it to him.
“Good job,” he said. “You’ve been studying the list of terms we gave you.”
Bethany nodded. She didn’t want to be the person who made the wrong choice in a real emergency or the one who couldn’t find what a fellow volunteer needed at a critical moment.
“Grace is going to climb down and pretend to be injured,” Tony explained. “Then it will be up to us to set the proper rigging in order to send someone down to rescue her.”
Grace, in harness and helmet, began her descent. Halfway down the face of the cliff, she stopped. “What do I do now?” she called up.
“Call for help,” Ryan said.
“Help! Help!”
Bethany bit her lip to keep from laughing. Grace sounded like the victim in the local melodrama.
“What’s wrong?” Tony called down.
“I’ve hurt my ankle.”
“Can you put weight on it?” he asked.
“No. It hurts too bad. Help!” Grace added a note of hysteria.
The volunteers gathered around Tony. “We’re going to set up a rigging that will allow us to lower and raise a sling,” he said.
“Rigging makes use of various systems of pulley, ropes and other equipment to work around obstacles, multiply force or allow safer access. Today you’ll see some examples and learn some terms, but it can take years and more advanced courses to become proficient.
You won’t be called on to set rigging by yourself, but we want everyone to be familiar with the terms so that you can assist in rope rescue if needed. ”
Thus began two hours of tying knots, affixing various equipment and discussing angles, degrees of force and a lot of other terms Bethany was sure wouldn’t stick in her head.
But as she watched and listened, and occasionally assisted, she began to connect certain actions with specific results and the ropes became less confusing spiderwebs and more beautiful, and practical, designs.
She approached Tony when they were packing up to leave the canyon. “I want to do more of this,” she said.
“More climbing?”
“Not so much the climbing as the rigging,” she said. “I love seeing how everything fits together. It makes sense to me.”
He nodded. “Watch for the announcement of beginner rigging for rescue clinics, and sign up for one,” he said. “We can always use more volunteers with that training.”
On the ride back to SAR headquarters, Bethany sat between Carter and Dalton. “Today was great,” she said. “I may have found my search and rescue specialty.”
“You don’t like to climb,” Dalton said.
“I’ll get better at climbing,” she said. “But this isn’t about climbing. It’s about using the tools to help climbers.”
“I think you should leave that kind of thing to people with more experience.” He patted her knee.
She glared at him, but he was already looking in another direction. Never mind. She wasn’t going to let her brothers dampen her enthusiasm. She couldn’t wait to tell Ian about today’s discovery. He could help her with the climbing aspects. It would be something they could do together.
* * *
Ian was falling, arms flailing, desperately trying to grab hold of something but only grasping air.
He slammed into unyielding rock, and pain ripped through his body.
His fingers instinctively closed around something—part of the scaffolding?
So much pain, white hot, stealing his breath.
His grip loosened as consciousness faded. Sliding into empty air once more…
He emerged again, like a diver breaking the surface of the ocean. He was on his back on some hard surface. The ground? No. His legs dangled unsupported. He forced open his eyes, trying to see past the gray fog. Red rock. Blue sky. Where was he?
“Hey! Hey, mister!”
He turned his head toward the side but could see nothing. He tried to respond, but the words emerged as a groan.
“I’m gonna go for help. Hang on.”
Another groan, then he slipped beneath the fog again…
Sun burned his face, but the rest of his body was icy. So cold. He ought to be numb, but pain gripped him like a vise. What had happened? A fall, but where was he climbing? Red rock and hot sun. Was he in Yosemite? Morocco? He couldn’t remember.
Where was his team? Had they abandoned him? Had they left him here to die?
* * *
Back at search and rescue headquarters, the volunteers unloaded their equipment and stored it away. They were almost done when their phones starting going off with alerts from their first responders app. “Injured climber at Humboldt Canyon,” Grace said as she read the same words on her phone.
“Another protester?” Ryan asked.
“Maybe,” Tony said. “Let’s get all the equipment back out and loaded up. The emergency dispatcher has already contacted EMS, and they have an ambulance on the way.”
Bethany sent a text to Ian: Headed your way. What’s going on?
She didn’t get an answer, but he was probably busy with whoever was injured. She wouldn’t allow herself to think it might be him.
The ambulance was waiting in Humboldt Canyon when the search and rescue team arrived. Captain Danny Irwin also met them.
Hannah Gwynn walked over to meet them as they exited their vehicles. “He’s up there, on the ledge,” she said.
Bethany followed Hannah’s pointing finger and spotted the crumpled figure on a narrow ledge halfway up the canyon. From this distance, she couldn’t tell much about it. “Who is it?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Hannah said. “We called up to him, but he didn’t answer. We checked him out with binoculars, and we’re pretty sure he’s still breathing.”
Danny turned and began hauling gear out of the Beast. The others pitched in to do the same, though Bethany kept looking back at the small figure. “Where’s Ian?” she asked.
Hannah turned to her. “Is he supposed to be here? We haven’t seen him.”
“He lives here.” Bethany felt sick and stared back at the figure on the ledge. Could that be Ian?
“Who called this in?” Grace asked.
“They refused to identify themselves,” Hannah said.
“What’s that hanging above the ledge?” Tony asked. He had come to stand beside Danny, who was scanning the scene with binoculars.
“I think it’s some kind of construction scaffolding.” Danny handed the binoculars to Tony. “One end is collapsed, like maybe our guy fell from above it and it broke when his body slammed into it.”
“Ouch.” Sheri had moved in on Danny’s other side. “Hitting the scaffolding could have caused more injuries.”
“But it also would have slowed him down, maybe changed the angle of his fall,” he said. “We need to figure out the best approach to get to him.”
After a brief consultation, they elected to send Danny and Tony up to the ledge. As an RN, Danny could assess the man’s injuries and try to stabilize him. Tony could help transfer him to a litter.
“That ledge doesn’t look wide enough to hold anyone else,” Sheri said. “You’ll need a sling. I’ll take care of that.” She turned and started calling for the equipment they would need.
Bethany tried to focus on helping, but once the climbers started up the canyon wall, all she could do was watch.
Carter moved in beside her. She stiffened, bracing herself for some barbed remark about Ian. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder. “If it is Ian, he’s in good hands now,” he said. “You know Danny and Tony will do everything they can to save him.”
She bit her lip to keep from crying, unable to speak. But she leaned against him, grateful for his comforting presence.
* * *
Someone was shouting. Noise reverberated off the rock. Ian couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t have the strength to answer. He closed his eyes and drifted away again…
“Ian. It’s Tony Meisner. We met climbing Katahdin years ago. I’m with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue. We’re here to help you.”
Ian focused. On breathing, though it hurt to do so.
On opening his eyes and pushing back the fog.
A weathered, bearded face leaned over him.
That face receded, replaced by a second, a blond man.
“I’m Danny,” the man said. “I’m a nurse.
I’m going to assess your injuries and try to make you more comfortable. ”
Another groan. He had to do better than that. “Thanks,” he whispered. Had they even heard him?
“It looks like you fell from above,” Danny said. “Maybe hit the scaffolding on the way down and landed on this ledge. Does that sound right?”
Did it? He couldn’t remember. “Where…where am I?”
“Humboldt Canyon. Eagle Mountain, Colorado.”
Concentrate. Why was that familiar? The via ferrata! His via ferrata! Memory returned. “The catwalk supports failed,” he said, speaking slowly and carefully enunciating each word. He wanted to be sure they understood. “Someone sawed through them.”
“What catwalk?” He thought Tony asked this.
“Up…above.”
They all looked up, but all he could see was the broken catwalk, jagged pieces hanging over them.
“Where are you having the most pain?” Danny asked.
Everything hurt, but when Ian focused, he could identify the source of the worst of it. “Ribs,” he said.
“Does it hurt to breathe?”
“A little.”
“You may have cracked a few ribs, but your oxygen levels are good. No blood from your head. Do you think you hit it on the way down?”