We now switch to the difficult mission of going for help.
Hugh
On the descent to the corrie we took the conscious decision to solo far apart for safety reasons. Luckily, no more snow came down our route, but it was a very hairy descent on frozen turf (the good bits), slippy snow-covered scree and small cliffs. Dafydd had no difficulty leading down to the valley floor. Once there he went ahead and had only gone a short distance, ploughing a metre deep furrow, when he fell into a hole. There was a cry of pain. After a repeat of this incident, I knew we were in trouble when he asked me to take over. The going was really difficult, not so much for the metre-deep snow, but because of the holes that I kept falling into, and also Dafydd if he strayed from my channel.
After about an hour of this we called a halt and discussed the situation. Dafydd assessed that we couldn’t get to Fannich Lodge before dark. I knew that this meant Dave wouldn’t get out alive. I then gave Dafydd the first dose of Brufen. I had my mobile but there was no signal. Dafydd knew from previous visits that the mobile would work from the top of Clach Geala, and as it turned out only from there.
It was a steep and exhausting climb to the summit and just five metres short of the top – bing – bing – bing – we had a signal! I called 112.
“Newcastle Emergency Centre.” That threw me!
I said, “but I’m in north-west Scotland.”
“Don’t worry, sir. What is your problem?”
I gave full details and we were asked to remain at our MR (map reference), and to keep the phone on. Minutes later he called back to say a SAR helicopter was on its way, ETA less than half an hour. Could we stay at our MR and could we please confirm our MR?
A shower went through and the day cleared, though wind chill was high. Despite digging in behind some rocks, Dafydd couldn’t remain on top of the ridge for long. I rang Newcastle again to inform them of the situation and was told to hang on five more minutes as the helicopter would be with us. We then heard it.
The winchman was lowered and when he established that we were part of the Alpha Gully group he asked for the MR for Dave and the others. We gave him this as concisely as possible. It appeared that they had a problem with fuel/weather/weight ratios. He told us he could only take one casavac, so who was that to be? Daf or Dave? I had a brief discussion with Dafydd. He was in poor shape, but I couldn’t honestly say at that stage that his condition was life-threatening. The winchman said something like, “It’s up to you it’s your choice.” We knew it had to be Dave.
Due to Dafydd’s condition, I made clear to the winchman our plans for the route out, finally asking him to return for Dafydd if at all possible.
Duncan Tripp
202 Squadron, Royal Air Force, provides a twenty-four hour search and rescue service covering the UK from the Midlands of England to the north of Scotland, from the North Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, an area of approximately a quarter of a million square miles. The squadron is made up of three flights; Leconfield near Hull, Boulmer to the north of Newcastle and Lossiemouth near Elgin in the north-east of Scotland. Of the three flights Lossiemouth is the busiest with 250–300 jobs a year. The primary role and secondary role of the squadron is to provide SAR cover for military and civilian aircrew, the tertiary role is everything else.
The weather on 24 February 2001 was a classic mid-winter’s day with unstable air moving in from the west giving heavy snow showers, squalls and strong gusts.
With my four colleagues, I arrived on the station at around 0830 hours to check over the first and second standby aircraft before we took over from the off-coming shift. The only difference for the crew on a Saturday is that there’s little flying activity at RAF Lossiemouth, the base of the Tornado GR4 aircraft, therefore making it quieter with fewer people around. For us though, Saturday’s a normal working day.
The crew on 24 February was, Squadron Leader Steve Hayward, a very experienced SAR pilot, captain and the Boss of the flight at Lossiemouth; Flight Lieutenant Rob Green, copilot, on his first flying tour and new to SAR; Flight Sergeant Dougie Cripps, radar/winch operator, like the Boss, a very experienced SAR operator, and finally myself, Flight Sergeant Duncan Tripp, relatively new to helicopter SAR but with experience on support helicopters and a former part time member of RAF Kinloss Mountain Rescue Team. In addition we were joined by two Scottish Ambulance Service paramedics from Aberdeen who wished to experience at first hand the work of the SAR flight.
After we had completed the handover brief at 0930 hours, the rest of the morning and afternoon was spent briefing the paramedics on our role and exchanging ideas. At around 1530 hours the scramble phone rang. It’s a direct line to the Aeronautical Rescue Co-ordination Centre (ARCC) based at RAF Kinloss. When this phone rings, which sounds like a school bell, I’m sure, like any emergency service worker, it doesn’t matter how often one hears it, the effect is to deposit half a pint of adrenalin into the body. The ops clerk picked up the phone and the first thing we wanted to know was it “wet or dry”, was it a land or sea job, which will determine what we wear. At the same time he hit the scramble bell which calls everyone in the hangar into action, including the ground crew. Listening intently, the ops clerk shouted: “Mountain Job.” Then he continued recording details as we got into our mountain kit and packed our immersion survival suits in case we diverted to a sea job. As we got ready the Ops Clerk wrote down and repeated what the ARCC was saying: Ordnance Survey 1:50 000 map sheet number and six-figure grid reference, casualty details, weather on scene and the MRT rendezvous point. We plotted the point, it was on Ben Nevis. The ground crew shift boss ran in. “Do you need additional fuel?”
“No thanks, it’s on the Ben,” replied the Boss.
Grabbing the maps and our equipment – mountain kit and immersion suits – the four of us and the two paramedics ran towards the aircraft waiting outside. The ground crew were already busy preparing the aircraft and, as we were now on a job, it had the call sign, Rescue 137.
We got Rescue 137 up and running and, with our checks complete, Rob transmitted on the radio to Air Traffic:
“Lossie Tower Rescue 137 request immediate take off.”
“Rescue 137, Tower clear take off.”
The flight from Lossiemouth to Ben Nevis normally takes forty-five to fifty-five minutes but because of the weather it was going to take sixty-five. However, about fifteen minutes into the flight, when Rescue 137 was near Inverness, we were contacted on the HF radio by the ARCC. They told us that a Royal Navy Sea King from RNAS Gannet, based at Prestwick, had just completed a job fifty miles south of Ben Nevis and was already in the area. There’s considerable friendly rivalry and banter between ourselves, the ARCC and the Navy, so there were a few comments made on board Rescue 137 about the Navy and the ARCC. ARCC came off second best for giving the job to the Navy. As the aircraft turned to return homewards, another call came over the HF from ARCC.
“We have further tasking for you. Reports are sketchy. Five climbers were caught in an avalanche near Sgurr Mor in the Fannichs. Sheet 20 grid 193718. Initial reports are of two casualties, one with an ankle injury, the other a serious chest injury.”
The weather forecast in the area was for scattered snow showers, cloud base 1,500 to 3,000 feet, with north westerly winds of thirty to forty knots with gusts of fifty to sixty. Now ARCC were the greatest thing since sliced bread! We plotted the new point. Dougie and I prepared our equipment. In addition to the usual items I put on the avalanche transceiver, also my ice axe, crampons, map and a hand-held GPS into which I put the casualty position. We then discussed escape routes, should I be left by Rescue 137. Dundonnell MRT had also been called out by the Police and were en route. This always gives me a warm feeling knowing that the MRT are there as back up and that if we are unable to do the job they can always be relied on to finish it.
We arrived on scene at around 1600 hours. Winds were thirty to forty knots, although it wasn’t snowing at that time. We were obviously between showers with large black angry
clouds looming out to the west. The mountains were covered in deep fresh snow. The grid we had been given was on the west side of a very large steep-sided corrie. With the winds coming from the west we would be in down draughting air.
Steve Hayward, the Boss, appears elsewhere in this book. Steve, though retired from the RAF is still in the air, now driving an air ambulance He relates the first part of his side of this story.
Steve Hayward
An initial sweep of the area failed to locate the climbers, but did reveal turbulent conditions, with significant down drafts in the corrie. Power to hover was likely to be an issue. A helicopter requires considerably more engine power than it does for forward flight and can reduce the power needed to stay over the same spot on the ground. Unfortunately if the conditions are turbulent, with the wind changing strength and direction, or tumbling on you from above, you easily find yourself with insufficient power to hover at all. If this situation comes upon you without warning as you are in a hover, life can become very exciting – very quickly. We decided to collect members of the MR from Dundonnell. This would give us the opportunity to drop off the two paramedics. We would trade this weight for a mix of increased hover performance and MRT personnel.
Duncan is a dedicated winchman as well as a climber, with a passion for the mountains. He continues.
Duncan Tripp
Just before we departed the scene we took advantage of a break in the weather to have a look along the top of the corrie edge. There were large overhanging double cornices, spectacular but you wouldn’t want to be under one if it broke off. As we got to the top of the corrie, Dougie spotted two walkers. We were unsure if they were part of the five so I was winched down to find out whether they had been involved or had any information relevant to the incident. I was lowered down to the two men, both still wearing climbing harnesses, one with a two-foot tail of snapped rope. After speaking with them and ascertaining the position of their injured friends, we decided that David required immediate evacuation. They then advised me on their proposed route out to the main road.
Then I was winched up and Rescue 137 immediately moved to the grid position to search for the casualty and his two colleagues. By now it was 1615 hours the light was starting to fade and the snow showers increasing, and we were regretting not having taken the two survivors who may have been able to more accurately identify the position and we would have saved them the long walk off. After approximately ten minutes, with no sign of the three climbers, the crew elected to go and pick up MRT members from Dundonnell.
At Dundonnell we offloaded the two paramedics and the life rafts. To further increase our power margin by keeping Rescue 137 light, we elected to take just two MRT, Dave Neville and Donald MacRae, two top blokes.
Steve got the large machine airborne and headed once more for Clach Geala . . . He now gives his account of the next phase of the operation.
Steve Hayward
As Duncan has mentioned, conditions on the mountain were now very turbulent, with heavy snow showers. It was essential to get Duncan and the MRT to the casualties.
Once at the scene, and after a short search, Rob sighted three climbers at the base of a high rock buttress on a narrow ledge at 2000 feet. Conditions were extremely turbulent in the snow showers. We couldn’t simply hover above them; delivering nine tons of screaming machinery with the associated downwash could easily trigger another avalanche, but we found an alternative winching area some 150 metres from and thirty metres below the casualty. It was a 40° boulder/snow slope. During the approach I asked Duncan, “Are you happy to be winched?”
Duncan Tripp
What Steve actually meant was, “We may not be able to get you out, so you’re on your own.” There was a strong possibility that I would have to make my own way off the mountain.
It wasn’t an easy decision to make, to be severed from the umbilical safety of the winch cable. But given the casualty’s condition, it was a gamble I was willing to take.
“Yes,” I said, “I’ve got all the kit I need if you leave me!”
Dougie then checked my winching harness and my equipment, rucksack, GPS, crampons (fitted), ice axe to hand and the Main Response Bag, full of medical equipment. Just before I was winched we confirmed escape routes and plans. In the hover Rescue 137 was being tossed about. The air speed indicator was showing readings of between zero and forty knots and the torque gauge was showing power variations from 30–110 per cent.
Basically, because of the turbulence and to maintain a hover, the Boss was having to use virtually no power one second to full power plus the next, not a good situation to be in. It was taking all his skill to tame this beast!
Once I was on the ground, Steve took Rescue 137 away to do a circuit to give the crew a chance to relax and compose themselves before coming in again to drop off Dave and Donald. I always find it quite surreal when Rescue 137 flies away, one minute you’re on a noisy rollercoaster from hell, the next you’re in the relative peace and quiet of a Scottish mountain. However, no time to appreciate the peaks resplendent in their winter garb. To reach the casualties I had to cross a forty-metre snow slope which I assessed as potentially avalanche-prone, perhaps category 3 to 4 (medium to high – not to be messed around on). The snow was deep on a rock boulder base. To minimise the risk and the time spent on the slope, I went straight up to the bottom of the rock face as there was no way around it. Once there I moved up and along the base of this using my ice axe.
During this phase Rescue 137 made a second approach to lower Dave and Donald. Once this was done, Steve put down on the far side of the corrie, in line of sight, to conserve fuel. Dave and Donald followed my steps. Meantime I arrived at a point slightly higher and some ten metres from the casualty, but encountered a dangerous 60°–70° snow filled gully with obvious serious avalanche risk. From here I shouted to the three climbers through the howling wind and confirmed that two were OK. However, the third was having great difficulty breathing and could be seen sitting with his knees to his chest and in a lot of pain. At this point Dave and Donald joined me, we discussed our options. They agreed that the possibility of moving across the slope was just too risky without more climbing gear. They, like myself, had medical kit but no rope, slings, pegs or climbing hardware with which to get a decent anchor.
I got on to the radio and informed the crew that further man power would be required as we might have to set up a belay to lower the casualty and requested they bring crag kit, a stretcher and the 200-metre ropes.
To save time and to get to the casualty ASAP, I shouted across, “How much rope do you have?”
“About thirty metres of undamaged rope,” was the reply.
My thoughts were that they could perhaps set up a belay and for one of them to come across. We could then set up a fixed rope across the gully.
With concern for the casualty mounting, his friends were asked to put this into operation; however as the rope was damaged, frozen and badly tangled it took ten minutes to sort out. This was frustrating; the temptation to move across the gully with a nasty drop below, and accept the risk, was overwhelming. Common sense prevailed. Whilst waiting, we discussed the evacuation options.
The quickest solution would be to scoop and run by double stropping. This would involve winching the casualty with two strops, one over his head and under his arms, the other under his legs so he could be winched in the horizontal position. A fast extraction, but not good with a suspicion of spinal injury, as this casualty had.
The ideal scenario, considering his probable injuries, would be to get the stretcher up to his present position, then winch him. This however wasn’t practicable, due to the time factor. Darkness was almost upon us. Also there was barely enough room for three to stand on that ledge, let alone prepare a stretcher.
Another possible solution would be to lower him 800 feet to a point where Rescue 137 could pick him up. This also had a time penalty. Getting the stretcher, gear and ropes up into this dangerous area, and then finding solid b
elays for the long lower wasn’t viable. Also if Rescue 137 was unable to pick up the casualty from the bottom of the corrie, it was an eight-kilometre carry to Fannich Lodge, followed by a twelve-kilometre four by four vehicle track in deep snow to the nearest main road, with no guarantee that this track was driveable. This we estimated would take a further eight hours, giving a total delay of ten to twelve hours. With the casualties condition deteriorating, time was of the essence.
I must now introduce a further participant in this chain of events, Bill Amos. Bill is a friend of mine whose day job is as a microbiologist, but by inclination he is a mountaineer as well as Team Leader of the Dundonnell Mountain Rescue Team. The team’s area is this vast empty quarter of the Scottish Highlands. With the understatement common to those in MR, he tells their side of the rescue.
Bill Amos
The most difficult call-outs include those in which there are more unknowns than certainties, where the map reference of the location and the description are not in agreement and where the choice of base location and best access route are debatable. The need for fast decisions and urgent action due to multiple casualties adds further confusion. As six of us stood waiting for Rescue 137 at Dundonnell I realised that this rescue had the lot, plus failing light, fresh snow and avalanche risk.
Other team members had been directed to the dam at Loch Droma on the Garve to Ullapool road, known locally as the Geerie. The bends and dips, much loved by summer motorcyclists, would be a challenge for those driving there in the snow. From that location, which lies to the north of the Fannichs, they might be able to drive about four kilometres up the track and then walk a further five kilometres towards the grid reference point given by one of the survivors by mobile phone. The caller said that he was in a party of five who had been avalanched in Alpha Gully on Sgurr nan glach Geala, a remote, but popular mountain, resulting in at least two being injured, one seriously. However, the grid reference was not that of Alpha Gully. He could not be in two places at the one time! The fact that he was near Sgurr Mor had also been mentioned by the police, adding yet more confusion. If the position was an error, the team members could continue on to the ramp that allows access to the gullies. Despite many attempts, we had been unable to make any further contact. We had to assume that they were all together at the gully but we did not know if they were near the top, back at the bottom or trapped somewhere in between.
The Mammoth Book of Mountain Disasters Page 55