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© Mick McCarthy and Patricia Ahern, 2011
Epub ISBN: 978 1 85635 820 0
Mobi ISBN: 978 1 85635 821 7
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To my father Jack McCarthy,
and my friends Richard Cotter and Betty Flynn
We were rather like the mourners after the funeral: glad to be alive, getting on with our own lives, the memory of Mick held with sadness and regret, yet accepted as an act that happened; one of the risks of our climbing games.
Is there a self-centred selfishness in this attitude? For those of us who are happily married and have children, there must be or we should not have carried on our life of climbing, aware, as we are, of the risks involved.
In our own single-minded drive and love for the moun-tains, we hope that the fatal accident will never happen to us, are frightened to contemplate the cruel long-lasting sorrow suffered by the widows, parents and children – an endless tunnel that for them must never seem to end.
From Everest the Hard Way by Chris Bonington
Foreword
On 3 September 2006, the day before my wedding, I was in Scotland, and oblivious to the tragic events that were happening at home in Cork. Two men went under the water whilst saving the lives of two others who had gotten into trouble. The nation was gripped for a week as a massive search was undertaken for them. Eventually, their bodies were found.
Mark and I returned home after a thirty-two-hour journey – partly due to delayed flights and missed connections – but still grinning from ear to ear in our post-honeymoon daze. On our way home, we picked up Kram, our collie. I had rescued him eighteen months before from the grounds of a hospital, and had missed him for the three weeks we’d been away. The next day, we called into our neighbours to tell them about our trip, only to be told that one of the men who had been missing was the son of one of my friends. Our neighbours and other friends had felt that it was best not to tell me what had been going on as there would have been nothing I could have done, and they didn’t want to spoil our honeymoon.
I wanted to do something as a tribute to my friend’s son, and when Mark and I agreed to get another dog, I discovered that there was a dogs’ home near where the tragic events had occurred. Having looked at the website (www.westcorkanimals.com), I saw the profile of a collie springer called Chelsea. Given that Mark wanted a springer and I wanted another collie, Chelsea appeared to be the ideal dog. Now, I must point out that, in hindsight, picking a dog over the Internet to match with your existing dog and to join your family is not something that I would ever recommend. Nevertheless, we did it, and – stupidly or not – Chelsea entered our lives and soon became one of the best things to happen to us. However, we went through a lot of stress before we could say that!
Chelsea was in many ways the most difficult kind of dog to adopt. She was nervous and aggressive, and it was clear that her first year of life had not been very good. It took Mark weeks of patience to get close to her, and although she was warmer to me, she would freeze even when I petted her. However, Chelsea was a tribute to my friend’s brave son, so there was no way we were giving up on her. We were used to taking Kram everywhere with us as he got on with everyone, but we couldn’t do that with Chelsea, and at that stage we didn’t know if we would ever be able to. Chelsea was such a frightened dog and we had to start at the beginning with her, just building her trust. Within a couple of months, she was beginning to play fetch, and we could see her relax during the game. Her whole body language would change: her ears and back would relax, and for a while she’d forget she was scared. Chelsea was very good on lead, and she walked perfectly on heel, so at some stage previously someone had loved her enough to train her a little.
Five months later, our pretty but nervous and aggressive dog was still a handful around strangers, particularly people with hats or walking sticks! Walking the two dogs was difficult and – as I was to learn later – my nervousness was only making things worse. We found ourselves walking in more and more rural settings, trying to avoid meeting other people and dogs.
In August 2007 we decided to attend the Pet Expo in Mallow in the hope of meeting some dog groups that had been advertised on a website. We had run out of ideas on how to bring Chelsea along. In the arena we watched dogs demonstrating agility. Then Mick McCarthy appeared with what was then called the Irish Search and Rescue Dog Association, now called Irish Search Dogs. Mick was charismatic and funny, and at the end of the demo he was available for questions and answers. Mark listened to him for quite some time afterwards, and arranged to bring the dogs to a meeting in Watergrasshill the following week.
The following Sunday, we went to meet everyone, and Mick talked us through how to make our dogs sit beside us and walk on heel. Mick just seemed to understand the different dogs and their temperaments. We were as nervous as hell, and I was so terrified that Chelsea would start barking at people and scare them and embarrass me in front of all these strangers. I was worried that they’d see us as a couple who’d adopted collies and hadn’t a clue how much training they needed. In fact, we knew what we were getting into breed-wise, and we loved the long walks and training Kram. He knew ‘Fetch my slippers’ and ‘Tidy up’, which meant bringing his toys in from the garden or moving them out of the way of the lawnmower. He just loved to work, and, being a collie, his own intelligence often took over. I remember one night when Mark came in from work and sent Kram off to find his slippers. Kram kept running back into the living-room without them. Mark kept giving the command but still no slippers. Kram got so frustrated that he came over to the sofa, took a slipper off my foot, and threw it at Mark! It turned out Mark’s slippers were under a bag and Kram either couldn’t find them or didn’t think he should move the bag. We fell about laughing.
We needn’t have been worried about going along that Sunday; everyone there was so approachable and it helps that Mick can read people as well as dogs. He set about getting me relaxed so that I could help Chelsea relax. As the weeks progressed, Mick showed us how to get the dogs interested in search work and Kram took to it like a duck to water. Suddenly, we were faced with the seriousness of considering training for search work. Mark would be a handler and that was a lot of responsibility. Neither of us knew if we had what it took and how we would react to a casualty or, God forbid, a body. We decided to keep at it and make our minds up if Kram and Mark made the grade.
Chelsea’s fear of people became a hurdle to her progressing, but Mick encouraged me to do the training with her to relax her mind and get her thinking. We all had great fun playing ‘body’ (helpers play the part of the ‘body’ by hiding and waiting until found by the search dog), and it was amazing to see all the dogs off-lead together on the walks. Everyone in the group knew to ignore Chelsea until she approached them, and this happened soon enough, especially if a ball or food was involved.
Mick taught us how to focus on showing the dogs what to do as opposed to what not to do. Only our own timing hampered his system of dogs learning by association and positive reinforcement. As soon as the pen
ny dropped and we began communicating with them, and thinking of them as dogs, not humans, it all made so much sense.
Soon Kram and Mark were really working well together, and Chelsea was learning to trust people. Chelsea went from barking at my parents when they came to visit, to sitting on my dad’s lap and licking his face. On one visit to my parents’ house in Waterford, I got up to find Chelsea on the sofa beside my mother, sharing her breakfast. Now, at this point I will say that we don’t allow our dogs to beg and we don’t feed them from the table. I had wondered why it was that after family visits the dogs took a step backwards. Mum really took to Chelsea’s gentle nature. Every time she visited, she’d bring the dogs bones and spoil them rotten. Dad couldn’t resist feeding them from the table and teaching them bad habits. Given how Chelsea had been, we allowed it to go on, and were just so happy to finally have a pet as opposed to a problem.
Six months later, Mick asked us during a walk how we had ended up with a dog like Chelsea, and I told him the story. That day, Mick’s partner Áine’s dog Zak was with us, and Mick pointed to him and said that it was Zak who had indicated where to search for my friend’s son, and that his dog Bob was there, too. My heart was pounding in my chest as I realised the full circle that we had come: getting a dog as a tribute to my friend’s son had led us to meet the people and dogs who had indicated where to find him. I was speechless, but had to entertain the idea that fate had intervened and this was what we were meant to be doing.
For three hours every Sunday, the dogs and ourselves socialised and trained with like-minded people, and soon enough we were back to taking the dogs everywhere with us: to parties, barbecues and on holidays. Those three hours a week changed our lives and our dogs’ lives forever. Little did we know there was more to come.
Eventually, winter came, and the group organised a Tuesday night class in Hop Island Equestrian Centre. Kram and Chelsea became great demonstration dogs, and having gone through and learned so much in teaching them to be great pets, Mark and I began teaching others. Mark and Kram pressed on with their training, and we began going to Kerry and Waterford to expand the terrain for the dogs and handlers. These days out every couple of months were fun, and we’d always finish with a picnic or by going for lunch. We were soon proud to call the group our friends.
In March I contacted the dogs’ home to ask if they would like us to foster dogs for them. I felt that we were now in a position to help train some of them so as to make it easier to find homes for them. The dogs’ home put me in contact with another centre closer to home, and soon we took in our first foster pup. We only had Dixie a few days before her owners were found, and that was a lovely introduction to fostering. During the next six months, we fostered dogs and puppies, and I discovered that I could manage to re-home them despite my parents’ fears that my house would soon be full of dogs. The knowledge gained from Mick and everyone else in Irish Search Dogs meant that even the problem dogs got a greater shot at being re-homed.
We had a fantastic summer with the group and by ourselves out training and hillwalking. Kram’s training was taking time, and Mark put in a lot of effort moving on to searching for lost objects, which is known as article searching. One day, when friends of ours lost their dog’s collar out walking in rough terrain, we were able to send Kram in and he indicated where it was by barking. In Irish Search Dogs, if you find someone you call in the appropriate emergency services. As time had progressed, we felt less terrified about being in emergencies, and we started to look for ways to increase our training. We felt that it was better to know what to do if you found a casualty. A few of us decided to join the Civil Defence, and in September 2009 we were accepted. What with working full-time, looking after our dogs and foster dogs, and training with Irish Search Dogs and Civil Defence, we were busy, but having the time of our lives.
On 19 September 2009 the local fair was on. I volunteer at it, and we always have an open house for lunch. That year, my sister was over from England, my family was up from Waterford, and my friend Lorna came with her two dogs. Mick and Áine came with their son Jack. I was delighted when I finally introduced Mick and Áine to my mum and dad. Mum had arrived wearing a cowboy hat; she and Mark had a thing for hats, and they’d always try to outdo each other. Thankfully, Chelsea was over her fear of hats by then. My cousin Shannon handled our dogs in the pet-dog show, and Mick and Jack handled their bloodhound Phoebe and won best in show. It was a great day, great weather and great company.
The next day, everything we had trained for came into play as our worst nightmare became a reality. Mum was missing. She had left her house around 5 p.m. Dad rang after 9 p.m., when it got dark, as she still hadn’t come home. My mum was scared of the dark, and we all knew something was wrong. Mark, my sister and I, together with Kram and Chelsea, left Cork and headed straight for Waterford. Immediately, we rang Mick and Áine, who talked us through co-ordinating a search. As a family member, I wanted to believe that she would walk in the door any minute, but as the coordinator of a search, I had to cover all possibilities and consider the worst possible outcome. Mark’s and my training kicked in. We pushed our emotions aside and geared up. We planned where we would go, based on probability. We sent family members out in cars, and kept in constant contact with them to ascertain where they had been. We began searching around 11 p.m., and as a team were unified. Kram and Mark were amazing to watch. Their connection was so strong despite the fear we were all feeling. An hour passed. We were in constant contact with our friends in Irish Search Dogs, and Mick was preparing to leave Cork to come and help. Time went on, and despite my legs turning to jelly and the pain in our chests and muscles from running, we kept ourselves calm so as to keep Kram working. We knew that if Mark or I broke down it would affect Kram and interfere with his ability to keep searching.
At 1.24 a.m. on 21 September 2009 Kram, Mark, Chelsea and I found my mum. She was not breathing. Mark began CPR – which we had just learned in Civil Defence during the previous week – and I ran to guide in the ambulance personnel. Tragically, my mum never regained consciousness, and was pronounced dead at 5.30 that morning.
Where we got the strength to do what we did that night I will never know. How we managed not to let our emotions get the better of us and how we worked so well as a team throughout it all I will never know. But I do know that three hours on a Sunday morning gave my mum every chance possible and made my family proud. If it wasn’t for those three hours every week, then Mum wouldn’t have been found so soon and perhaps never at all. I know that the support we got during our search and in the weeks and months afterwards from our family and friends, both in and out of Irish Search Dogs, was wonderful. Now, looking back, I can say that the worst night of my life is also my proudest.
Since that night, Mark and Kram have been training harder, going out several nights a week with the other handlers. On Easter Sunday 2010 they were provisionally qualified as a search dog and handler. I am so proud of what Mark has achieved with Kram.
I urge you if you have two or three hours on a Sunday and a dog that you’d like to train to come along with us or join your local search-dog group and give it a go. We went along for help in socialising our dogs, and look where it has taken us. Not only are our dogs amazing pets, but we are now helping others and have a network of friends and a support system like no other.
We’ve adopted a new puppy now. Yes, one of our foster puppies. Sorry Mum and Dad, I know I said I wouldn’t. Joey is already thriving in his life with us. He’s a collie, too, and he loves following Kram when he’s working. He looks like he has the potential to take over when Kram retires, and, like the rest of us, Joey loves the three hours on a Sunday.
Suzanne Collings
Prologue
Darkness was setting in when we reached Slieve League. Tensions were running high as fears were now growing that the boy had fallen from the cliffs on the opposite side of the mountain. Searchers had come from everywhere – over a hundred volunteers turned up. A garda superinte
ndent was in charge of co-ordinating the various search teams, which included the Killybegs Coast and Cliff Service Unit, the Shannon Marine Rescue Centre and An Garda Síochána. The Air Corps and the British Royal Navy came and went, flying searchers to and from the scene.
The night was dry but freezing cold. Could the eleven-year-old survive a second night on the mountain in sub-zero conditions? Would the Boy Scout skills he had learned back home in Germany help protect him from the elements? Had he stuck with the Scouts’ basic rule of staying put when lost, or had he moved? The youngster’s chances were looking slim, but we approached the situation with a very positive attitude, believing that we would find him alive.
We double-checked our gear and prepared to begin our search. A local farmer’s teenage son acted as our guide. He showed us the areas already searched, and we combed them again. Then we moved on, scouring the rugged, heathery terrain of the most dangerous mountain in south Donegal.
By now, Neil and I were the only human searchers left on the mountain. All of the other searchers had been sent home. Eliminating them from the scene would make it easier for the dogs to locate the boy, as their human scent would no longer be present on the mountain. Air-scenting dogs pick up every human scent in a given area, whereas bloodhounds hunt only for the particular scent of the missing person. But there were no bloodhounds available to us. Locating the boy could take hours. There was no time to waste.
Our dogs ranged up to half a mile away from us. Every now and then, when the lamps on their collars shone through the heather, we could pinpoint their location. We knew they were working well. Dogs search best in the dark as they work with their noses, not their eyes, and can detect scents a mile away or up to five miles in certain conditions. Air-scenting dogs work almost as well in daylight, but can occasionally be distracted by other animals or humans. In the dark, they are totally focused.
In Search of the Missing Page 1