by Bobby Akart
“Rita! Can you hear me?” Jake yelled to her. He inched forward, and some loose snow fell over the edge and immediately crystalized, glistening in the sun muted by ash fallout as it floated downward.
“Yes. I think you’re right above me. I saw the snow float away.”
“Thank God, Rita. Okay. Are you hurt? What about the pilots?”
“Jake,” she began and then hesitated for a moment, “I’m pretty sure they’re dead. The front of the chopper got slammed against a couple of boulders; then it got hung in a tree before it gave way. I’m on a ledge with a gawd-awful view of the bottom of the mountain.”
Jake looked around. He had to get down to her, but his ability to see from this angle was too treacherous. He was about to speak when Rita added, “Jake, I can’t move my upper body. Well, my arms, anyway. It’s weird. My legs and feet are fine. I can turn my head, but my arms are—”
Jake closed his eyes and shook his head. Over the years, he’d taken continuing education and training courses in first aid with a specific focus on hiker injuries. Visitors to Yellowstone were notorious for venturing into dangerous areas where they didn’t belong, only to become injured due to a misstep.
Years ago, one hiker had suffered a brain injury as a result of a fall. From all appearances, he was physically fine with no visible broken bones or flesh wounds. However, the young man had suffered what was later diagnosed as a closed head injury, a type of concussion that was indicated by a number of symptoms, including a rare case of temporary paralysis of the upper extremities. With physical therapy and rest, the young man was able to recover full function of his arms.
Jake had no way of diagnosing Rita with the limited amount of information he had, not to mention the fact he wasn’t a neurologist. He did know, however, that he had to keep Rita calm and offer her hope of survival.
He was also feeling the pressure because if he didn’t return to Dusty right away, he was likely to bleed out and die.
“Rita, that’s most likely temporary from you getting banged around. That was quite a ride you took. When I get you back up here, we’ll get it squared away. Okay?”
“All right, are you going to call for help?”
Jake realized they had no communications gear. “No, not yet, anyway. First, are you in a stable position? I mean, are you in immediate threat of dropping farther?”
“No, I’m lodged in pretty solid here. Don’t get me wrong, I can see the bottom, Jake.”
“Rita, here’s the problem.” Jake closed his eyes and silently cursed the predicament he was in. “We found Dusty and he needs immediate attention.”
“Ashby is okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine, and right now she’s getting a stretcher for Dusty. I have to get him to shelter and stop his bleeding or he might die. Can you hold on?”
“Yes,” she replied. She paused for a moment and Jake crawled back toward a tree for leverage to stand without slipping. “But, Jake, I’m really scared.”
“Me too,” Jake muttered as he turned to leave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll get you!”
Jake made his way back to more level ground and ran through the snow to save Dusty.
Chapter 12
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
Jake couldn’t quite reach Dusty, so he searched for a couple of hunks of granite he could step on and still maintain stability. After digging through the snow, there was one perfectly suited at a foot tall, but it was too heavy to lift. Instead, he used a tree branch to pry it up and roll it underneath Dusty.
There was no easy way to cut Dusty down that wasn’t going to cause him more pain. He was unconscious, and his body weight was an issue for Jake as well. At just under two hundred pounds, Dusty was a load for Jake to catch when dropped from above.
He finished cutting the last of the straps except for the waist restraint, leaving Dusty’s legs and head hanging toward the ground. With a push of a button, the buckle would release, and the weight would be on Jake’s shoulders.
“Here goes,” he said as he released the buckle. Dusty dropped down on top of Jake, causing his knees to bend somewhat, but without causing him to lose his balance. “Okay, big boy, let’s get you on this stretcher and fixed up.”
With Ashby’s assistance, he carefully placed Dusty on a stretcher and tucked his arms and legs within the hard-plastic railing. On Jake’s instruction, Ashby located a folded mylar blanket in the backpack to wrap around Dusty’s body to preserve his body heat.
Mylar is a form of polyester film resembling thin aluminum foil. For industrial uses, it acts as a heat-resistant film. For survival purposes, a four-by-seven-foot mylar thermal blanket sells for about a dollar on Amazon. It was an ideal way to retain ninety percent of a person’s body heat in a survival situation.
Jake pulled the backpack full of medical supplies onto his back and took the lead as he and Ashby carried the stretcher.
“Will Rita be all right?” asked Ashby.
“She seems to be in good spirits, considering. Ashby, it’s a miracle she’s alive. Had it not been for the ledge just below the cliff’s edge, we would’ve lost her.”
“We’re all lucky to be alive, Jake. Um, this is—”
Ashby suddenly stopped and got quiet. Jake knew what she wanted to say, but now was not the time for self-punishment. She’d done nothing wrong, and this accident was certainly not her fault.
“Ashby, one step at a time, okay? Let’s get Dusty taken care of and I’ll go get Rita. Then we’ll all be together again.”
She didn’t respond, and Jake thought he heard her sniffling. He wanted to comfort her, but there wasn’t time. He needed to deal with Dusty’s broken bones and, most importantly, stop his bleeding.
Ten minutes later, they entered the cave and Jake got to work. Ashby had recovered from her moment of contrition and helped as needed. First, they took steps to stop the bleeding. Dusty’s forearm was broken, and it cut through the skin between his elbow and wrist. Fortunately, it missed the radial and ulnar arteries that ran through his arm.
While Jake checked Dusty’s blood pressure, Ashby treated the wounds on Dusty’s forehead with gauze followed by melted snow to clean out any debris. She applied Neosporin ointment around the cut and then bandaged it with medical supplies found in Jake’s backpack.
“Ashby, I’m gonna need your help now,” Jake began as he set out the materials needed to treat Dusty’s broken forearm. He’d decided to save the wrists and leg for last since the bones hadn’t broken the skin.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Okay. He’s been jostled around a lot already, and we’re really lucky he doesn’t have internal bleeding.”
“How would you know?” she asked.
“Shock and decreased blood pressure,” he replied. “I’ve got the bleeding under control, and now we’ve got to set the break. Basically, that means we’re gonna put the bone back where it belongs. It sounds gruesome, but he’ll be better off than this butt-ugly mess.”
“I’m ready.”
“I need you to position yourself next to his upper arm and hold it firmly in place. What we’re doing is called traction, which requires the arm to be immobilized, but you’re also preventing further damage in case he regains consciousness in the middle of all this.”
Ashby made her way around Dusty and applied pressure to his upper arm as instructed. She watched Dusty’s face to check for a reaction.
“Hold firmly while I slowly put downward pressure on the lower arm until it’s back in shape.”
Jake was successful and breathed a sigh of relief.
“It didn’t pop like my shoulder,” Ashby observed.
“Different bones, sort of. You needed your shoulder and its socket to be reunited. Dusty needed his forearm to get back in the right place, or at least close. Now we’ll immobilize and splint his arm.”
Ashby reached over Dusty and picked up a roll of orange, flexible material with the words SAM Splint written on it. “Th
is is a splint?”
“It’s the best, most compact medical tool there is for treating people like Dusty. You can use this stuff to splint every bone in the body.”
Ashby unfurled it, let it go, and watched as it curled back into a tight roll. “What is it?”
“It’s built from a thin but strong core of aluminum. It’s waterproof and reusable.”
Jake began to unroll the SAM Splint and gently wrapped it around Dusty’s arm. After using the measurements, which were shown on the back of the roll, he cut the pieces to length and secured them around Dusty’s wrist and forearm.
Next, he removed Dusty’s pants and used another SAM Splint to immobilize and secure his broken tibia, the larger of the two bones below the knee. After getting Dusty dressed, Jake sat back on his feet and wiped the sweat off his brow.
“Now all we can do is observe and react,” he said. “Living is up to Dusty and his body at this point. We’ll keep an eye on his bandages, check his blood pressure regularly, and monitor his body temperature.”
“Jake, what do we do if he has internal bleeding, like you said?”
He grimaced and responded after a moment, “I don’t know that there’s anything we can do, to be honest. Prayers and monitoring are his best chance of making it through this.”
Jake gathered himself because he knew the toughest job was ahead of him. Not just because of the predicament Rita was in, but because of what had happened in his life many years ago.
Chapter 13
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
Ashby gave Jake a general idea of where the tail section of the helicopter was located. That was his first stop before he would descend the cliff to help Rita. Physical and emotional fatigue was beginning to set in as Jake made his way through the snow-covered hemlock trees in search of the chopper’s rear section. The day had started with the earthquake that triggered the mudslide. Following the massive eruptions of the Yellowstone supervolcano and the subsequent crash landing, he’d been tested in many ways. Yet the biggest test was still to come.
That morning, as the group frantically scrambled to evacuate Jake’s cabin, the scientists had emptied their van of computers and research. Jake, using his innate ability to survive, had begun stowing gear that he might need in the back of the Ford Expedition.
There were three backpacks that stayed packed at the cabin unless he took them on his outdoor excursions. One, which he’d already accessed in the treatment of Dusty, was a medical bag. The other two were designed for camping and hiking. They contained extra clothing and camping gear, including tents, tarps, camp cooking supplies, and lighting.
In addition to the camping and hiking gear, Jake had a large olive drab military bag he’d purchased during one of his training sessions in California. When he hunted, he’d carry his long guns in the duffel. As the landslide threatened his cabin, Ashby and her team had saved the tools of their trade. Jake had saved some of the tools he needed to survive—guns and ammo.
Finally, because there was room left in the truck, he’d grabbed his duffel bag containing his climbing gear. Jake was an accomplished free climber. It was a sport he’d picked up when he first moved to Wyoming. Unlike traditional climbing, which involved climbers using their gear to assist in their ascent up the rock face, free climbing didn’t use ropes or gear to assist in the climb, only as a safety measure. The free climber was alone, using his physical ability to make progress up the rock face one step or reach at a time.
He had not, however, attempted free soloing, a high-risk endeavor that was fraught with peril. I’ve seen enough of that.
Jake had stuffed all of these bags into the tail section of the helicopter before they lifted off from Grant Village that morning. Luckily, the gear was still in the tail. He located the duffel containing his climbing gear. After rummaging through the bag, he searched the additional compartments of the chopper and found the crew’s rescue basket. He detached the carabiner clips at the end of the double-braided nylon rope and then found the other end attached to a steel ring welded to the floor, or what was left of it.
Jake had a twofold problem in rescuing Rita. First, he had to get to her. The climb was over a ledge and he’d have to blindly lower himself over the edge to begin his descent. Second, she was experiencing paralysis in her upper body. He had to assess her condition and then devise a plan to bring her back up, assuming she would be of no assistance.
He continued searching through the tail section until he found a blue zipper pouch labeled ARV. He opened it and found exactly what he was looking for. ARV was an acronym for air-lift rescue vest. Oftentimes it was used for the extraction of injured patients who were either unconscious or whose injuries prevented them from holding the rescue line as they were hoisted to safety.
He crammed all of the gear into his climbing bag and followed the debris field to the edge of the cliff. The irony of his trek down the ridge struck a nerve as a warm gust of air filled with ash and debris swept over him. Everyday life was like a walk to the edge of a cliff. With each step forward, you near the edge, not knowing what lies over the brink.
Chapter 14
Sheep Mountain
Central Idaho
“Hey, Rita!” Jake shouted through his N95 mask, which he’d worn continuously since Ashby had given it to him. She’d warned him more than once not to remove it for any reason. It only took a few particles to cause significant damage to his lungs. He yelled a little louder, “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, but I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back. How’s Dusty?”
Jake got settled on the edge and opened his climbing bag. He quickly removed his boots and slipped on his rock-climbing shoes. Made with flexible neoprene uppers and a firm, slightly downturned toe for the soles, the specially designed climbing shoes had built-in camber, enabling Jake to grab the cracks and crevices with his toes.
Jake tried to make light of his injuries, as he didn’t want to alarm Rita. “Broken arm, leg, and wrist. Pretty bad bump on the noggin. The usual stuff.”
She didn’t respond immediately, so Jake continued to get his gear ready. With the ash fallout picking up, he didn’t have the time to traverse the ledge looking for options to climb down. He decided the direct approach was best.
“I still can’t feel my hands or move my arms,” she said. Her voice sounded weaker to Jake, although he wasn’t sure if it was from the injury or her mental state. “I guess I’m paralyzed, Jake.”
“We don’t know that, Rita. I’m gonna get you up here, and then we’ll find our way to a hospital.” Jake closed his eyes as he contemplated taking these two injured people off a ten-thousand-foot mountain to a hospital, wherever that might be.
Jake readied his gear, and his mind. He’d learned early on that the goal of all climbers was to reach the top of a pitch, that seemingly unattainable peak of a mountain or rock face. However, once the challenge was overcome, getting back down was just as dangerous.
Rappelling was the cause of many rock-climbing injuries. The skilled climber had to create safe and redundant rappel anchors in the rock, be able to tie strong knots, and have excellent rope management skills, allowing for safety backup knots together with the ability to retrieve or pull the rope down from the anchors after the rappel.
“Rita, I’m going to rappel down to you and bring a rescue seat with me. I’m operating blind here, so I could use your help at first. Can you do that?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Can you see the edge of the cliff?”
“Yes. It juts out directly over my head, and then the face of the cliff cuts into the mountain slightly. It’s not flat.”
Wonderful, Jake lamented to himself. So much for rappelling. It was a straight drop.
“How about distance? Can you guess how many feet down you are from the edge?”
“Thirty-five feet,” she quickly responded with confidence.
“You seem sure about that.”
“Jake, what else wa
s I supposed to do while hanging here? I sure didn’t count the number of feet to the bottom.”
Rita’s snarky sense of humor helped Jake relax as he prepared the ropes for the drop. He was amazed at Rita’s composure in the face of mortal danger. I have to save her.
“Give me a minute to get the ropes ready. The first one coming over the edge will be your safety seat. Let me know when it touches down by your feet.”
“Ready.”
Jake measured out forty feet of rope and then attached the carabiner to the ARV. He dropped it down slowly in three-foot increments until Rita told him to stop.
“Good job, Rita. Thirty-nine feet.”
“Swell,” came her response.
Jake pounded two large anchors into the rock at the edge of the cliff and threaded the nylon safety rope through them. Then he tied the remainder of the hundred-foot rope to the largest hemlock tree he could find near the boulders that had stopped the cockpit from careening off the cliff to begin with.
He retrieved his climbing harness out of the duffel bag and stepped into the leg loops, which wrapped around his upper thighs. He tightened the straps and then firmly tugged the waistband in place.
He tied off his rope and affixed it to the harness system. After giving it a good tug, he was ready. Before he lowered himself over the edge, he added some additional gear to his harness and in his pockets. These devices, often referred to as pro by climbers, included cams, chocks, and nuts that were designed to secure a climbing rope to a rock. Jake didn’t know what he’d be facing below, and he had to prepare himself for the possibility they would have to go down rather than up.
With a deep breath, Jake turned backwards and took a firm grip on the rope. He slowly stepped backward off the ledge until his feet touched nothing but air.
He grimaced as his mind raced back to so many years ago.
This is for you, Julie.