JayB Posted January 10, 2002 Posted January 10, 2002 Sorry to hear about our fallen comrade.Very sad indeed, and just a bit spooky as I spent a day in the Designator Ampitheater in mid-December just prior to heading out the PNW. I didn’t plan on hanging out there as everything in the area is too hard for me to even consider leading at this point (Could maybe do the Designator if it’s in fat, late-season, WI4 peg-board condition), but one of the guys working on a new mixed line behind The Fang let us cruise up the Designator on his TR. Very cool guy – hope this wasn’t him or one of his buddies. I was involved in a rescue operation at Vail last year at Pitkin Falls, which was a sobering experience indeed. Just on the off chance that the story will prove useful and/or interesting to anyone else out there, I’ll hack out a chronology of the affair. My partner got and I got an early start and beat the weekend crowds that morning, thanks to redundant alarms and a couple of beds in nearby Frisco. During my lead a couple of other parties showed up and jockied for position at the base. It was my first year climbing ice, and even though most of the climb was in ideal condition, the easy WI4 route had me pretty gripped. From our previous lap on the route I knew that the worst part lay ahead – the 15 feet of unconsolidated snowcone-esque crap that lay between the final bulge and the anchors. I ground in a 22cm screw a few feet below the base, cleared the bulge in as good a style as I could muster, and headed for the top. In the meantime my partner had been giving the leader from the next party pretty detailed beta on the conditions of the climb after being approached by him, making special note of the slop at the top. My partner followed me up and we rapped down as this fellow was getting ready to make his first placements. I watched him start-up a harder line to the right as we consolidated our gear, and he looked very solid and confident as he made his way up. We retreated into the cave behind a curtain of ice at the base for lunch and tea as a guide and a couple of his clients arrived at the base. We emerged from behind the ice-curtain about 30 minutes later and stopped to take a look at the other parties before heading down. I took a quick look over my shoulder and something about the scene behind me prompted me to stop and take a closer look. At first glance something about the position of the other climber looked just a bit off, and after a spending a surprisingly long time looking at the guy I asked myself “Why in the hell is that guy hanging out in an upside-down figure four stance on TR? Why are all of his screws still in below his last screw if he’s on TR? Why is his TR set-up mid-climb off of a single screw on top?” It’s embarassing to admit that I actually scrolled through all of these questions mentally, but the demeanor of the other people involved in the situation was strangely incongruous with the predicament that the guy pulling the upside down figure four off of his last screw was in. Namely, no one had come to us to ask for help while we were in the cave, despite the fact that 3 of 5 people there were neither climbing nor belaying. No one said anything to us as we began our descent. No one seemed to be doing much to help the guy out. The guide was making his way up to the base of the ice in a manner that did nothing to suggest that there was an emergency underway, and we nearly had to resort to flares and semaphore to get anyone to talk to us. After yelling “HEY – is everything okay?” for the third time, one of the guided clients finally acknowledged our forty-decibel queries and a reply of “I don’t think so” came forth from his astonished and slightly haunted looking face. “What happened?” “Do we need to call 911?” No answer. At this moment I can recall feeling as though I was stuck in the middle of the ice-climbing equivalent of a David Lynch movie, as the situation contained the puzzling mixture of the macabre and the mundane – an upside down climber with what might be life threatening injuries above and silent people just sort of hanging out below. Hmmm. I would have been only slightly less confused if I had walked passed two guys in clown suits engrossed in a game of cribbage in the middle of a burning orphanage. Anyway – the whole thing was starting to feel a bit surreal as we sized up the situation, and during a quick chat we worked past the assumption that all parties were acting rationally and that everything was under control, and made the decision to get involved. As it turns out the guide knew what he was doing, but wasn’t involving anyone else in the situation. Maybe he decided that his clients were hopeless, and that it would be better not to involve anyone else as it would just slow him down. After approaching his somewhat shellshocked clients and getting confirmation that the unconscious guy on top-rope had taken an almighty winger from the top, we made the decision to call 911 and call things off if it turned out that the guy was in better shape than he looked to be in. He was now hanging upside down about 25 feet below his last screw, and had apparently fallen from near the top. From one of the client’s descriptions, it appears that he elected to run it out to the top and had been on the verge of clearing the bulge when both of his tools blew out of the rotten slush they were planted in. Bad luck or bad technique – who knows. He then fell away from the cliff in a long arc, with his arms windmilling alongside him before he slammed neck/headfirst onto an ice-shelf and took a long bounce downward before becoming stuck on the screw. The guide prusiked his way up to the unconsicous climber and began the process of extricating him from the screw-hanger that he was stuck on. We tried to keep his spinal-column as immobile as possible as his belayer lowered him to the ground. We left our foam sit-pad beneath his back, covered him with our down jackets, and instructed his hitherto-and-long-thereafter useless belayer/friend to keep an eye on his breathing and to keep him immobile if he came to. Again, we sort of hoped that the guide would have been directing care/traffic at this point, but had decided to take control until someone else stepped forwards. Shortly thereafter the first wave of the emergency armada had docked amidst the mansions on the street below, and Sean (the partner) and I volunteered to head down to let the rescue crews know what the condition of the climber was and to help them get up to the base of the ice if we needed to. It would have been a much better day for skiing/boarding than climbing, as at least 8” of snow had fallen since we had set out that morning, and the blowing snow had completely obscured the narrow trench of hardpack of leading through the powder that we had followed to the base of the gully earlier in the day. The relief I had felt upon seeing the fire-department arrive soon began to dissipate when rather than forging a path through the snow to meet us at the midpoint, the firefighters saw fit to goad us onwards with “encouragement” through a bull-horn as we tried out several variations on the crawl-stroke to make our way through the chest-deep snow. “Let’s Go! Let’s Go! Every second counts!” No shit – how about meeting us halfway? Once we made it out to the street our cheerleader with the bullhorn pulled me aside and asked me about the condition of the climber while Sean spoke with the younger fire-fighters about the conditions in the gully leading to the base of the climb. Soon enough we were recruited by one or two of the younger fire-fighters to help move the back-board/sled to the base of the climb. Fully loaded, this thing must have weighed a good 100 lbs, burdened as it was with all of the EMT gear, oxygen, and a big-ass defrib apparatus and other miscellaneous stuff. After about 15 feet of trying to plow the thing through the snow I suggested that we unload it and carry it above the snow rather than plowing through it, and have others carry the gear on it piece-by-piece, seeing as it was now loaded with a good 30-40lbs of the white stuff by this point. No dice, no debate, just a curt dismissal and another “Come-on!” as we churned through the morass. This carried on for another 50 yards or so, interrupted every so often as the head musher stopped to take off miscellaneous components of the full fire outfit he had begun the trudge with, including his fire helmet. I figured the guy wasn’t going to budge on this one so I gave up the idea of strategy and just plowed onwards with him. The guy had a lot of heart, but efficient we were not, and Sean and I abandoned our efforts to till the snow, grabbed the oxygen and defrib-apparatus, and headed back up to the base of the ice. The plan was to deposit the gear at the top of the climb, check on the climber, and lower a rope to the base to bring the sled up if it turned out that he needed it. We got back to the top of the climb and found that the climber had regained consciousness and was able to recall his name and where he was by this point (“By the looks of it, I’d say I was out ice climbing.") , but not a whole lot else. He wanted to move but given the nature of the fall he took we encouraged him to stay put until an EMT could check him out for spinal cord injuries, even though he claimed he could feel and wiggle all of his appendages. Good news. We rigged up a line to manuevered it down to the base of the climb an over the short (10-12 foot ice-step found there). We climbed back down to the base just in time to meet the firefighters, one of whom was hunched over in the snow from the effort required to drag all of that snow, and the sled, to the base of the climb. Unfortunately, they could advance no further, given that they were outfitted in rubber-boots and such, even with a rope. By this time, roughly 1 and one-half hours had passed since the climber fell. The folks at the top proceeded to haul up the sled and bring down a line for the EMT who showed up at the base about 15 minutes later. He had a hard time of it, outfitted as he was in slacks and cowboy boots, and made it to the top about 20 minutes later with some assistance. By this time it was pretty clear that the climber would be okay. I hadn’t noticed, but Vail Mountain Rescue had arrived on the scene in the meantime, and several members of that group were making their way to the base of the falls, fixing-lines on the way. 15 minutes later all of the elements of the rescue operation were in place, and the confusion began. It took at least two minutes worth of epic and somewhat hallucinatory cluster-action worthy of Apocalypse Now (e.g. “Whose in charge here?” Confused looks “Aren’t you?) Before everyone agreed who needed to be rescued and what the order of the rescue should be. Some members of the rescue party even set about deliberating about who was going to get the sled and the other equipment back down before pausing to consider if, and in what fashion, the injured climber was going to get down. After a mini-conference between ourselves, the EMT, and the climber himself, we agreed that Sean and I would assist him to the base on rappel. The fire fighters walked him out to the ambulance once we got the base, and we headed back up to collect our gear. The deliberations about the fate of the sled and the best method by which to lower it were still going on. We grabbed our gear, took all of the medical apparatus that we could, and descended to the base through a few of the VMR members who were still on their way up. What struck me about the whole affair was not that anyone involved in the rescue was incompetent or inept, but just the opposite. The firemen’s response time was incredible, and were we in a burning house, I have no doubt that the men who responded would have gotten everyone out alive. They were just a bit out of their element and following a rigid protocol in a new environment that wasn’t a good match for their training and equipment. The EMT was great, and he made a determined effort to got to the climber despite lacking any winter/climbing gear, and gave the climber excellent care once he arrived on the scene. And finally, the guys from Vail Mountain Rescue rallied their members incredibly fast for a volunteer organization, and had a dozen people on the scene within a couple of hours. Had it been necessary, I have no doubt that they would have successfully taken the climber to the base of the climb. What struck me, rather, was that despite the fact that this was essentially roadside ice right in the middle of Vail, with world-class medical facilities just minutes away and dedicated, professional rescue crews on the scene, this guy would have been as dead as a doornail if his injuries required medical care in less than an two hours. Even with pro’s on the scene confusion and discord prevailed as several different organizations tried to coordinate their efforts. If the fall had taken place in Rocky Mountain National Park or someplace even more remote, I’d be mighty surprised if he would have been rescued in less than a day. The moral? If you sustain a life threatening injury on ice/rock and you and/or your partners can’t rescue yourselves, in the words of Simon Yates, “That’s it. You’re fucked, Matey!” [ 01-10-2002: Message edited by: JayB ] Quote
max Posted January 10, 2002 Posted January 10, 2002 Jay: Nice post, as usual. Several things sruck me while reading you message, and I thought I'd comment. quote: Originally posted by JayB: ...we worked past the assumption that all parties were acting rationally and that everything was under control, and made the decision to get involved. How true. I think it's easy for climbers to assume the people they interact with know what their doing and when there's doubt, it's hard to speak up and voice concerns. It's essentially laying it on the line and saying "hey, I don't think that's right." I guess I'd rather be made a fool and learn something than keep quite and pay the consequences. quote: Originally posted by JayB: What struck me about the whole affair was not that anyone involved in the rescue was incompetent or inept, but just the opposite... How refreshing to hear someone not talking shit about people who regularly save our asses! As you say, sometimes fire/police/EMTs/rescue crew can be out of their element and not perfect, but they sure deserve alot better than the regular trash talk I hear about them. At least their frickin' trying! quote: Originally posted by JayB: What struck me, rather, was that despite the fact that this was essentially roadside ice right in the middle of Vail, with world-class medical facilities just minutes away and dedicated, professional rescue crews on the scene,... The moral? If you sustain a life threatening injury on ice/rock and you and/or your partners can't rescue yourselves, in the words of Simon Yates, "That's it. You're fucked, Matey"; I think this idea of remembering where you are and the potential consequences of injury is something we all have heard, all know about, but regularly ignore! It's good to be reminded of risks. Does this mean I'm not going to do wilderness climbs? No, but it does mean I should get my shit together and do an appropriate first aid course. Am I going stop doing scary scrambles or running it out? Probably not, but I am going to think about what the hell I'm doing and make sure my heads on straight before I do these things. I think alot of people get tired of hearing horror stories. I'd agree that there are much better things to spead time discussing (like Cavey's lace panties). But these incidents are great opportunities to stop and look at what we do and think about the risks we take and if and how we want to minimize them. A parallel: This summer four people were killed while working a fire in the Meathow. It was at least a sobering experience for everyone. While personally I feel no one's to blame for these deaths, I know that much has and will be gained from analysis of the accident and everyone working fire will approach it with a renewed dedication to safety. It's clique, but something very positive will come from their deaths. dave Quote
David_Parker Posted January 10, 2002 Posted January 10, 2002 As an avid sea kayaker as well, I used to be a little calous in my approach to paddling in calm, non threatening conditions. Then I read "Deep Trouble" and my attitude changed. I never paddle with my life jacket on the back of my boat regardless of how hot or nice it is. Water in Puget Sound is cold even in summer. I was involved in my first bonefide capsize rescue 2 weeks ago and it was an eye opening experience. Things seemed to happen a lot slower than I expected even thougfh I had done plenty of practice. Reading about others misfortunes can be a big help in assessing what you should or should not do or how things can suddenly turn bad to even conciencious, experienced climbers. I tend to run it out on "easy" ground because I'm confident. I think I will change that now. With the new express screws, there is no reason not to put in a screw even on easy ground. A falling chunk of ice can easily knock me off easy ground as well as steep ground. Shit happens. Ice climbing is dangerous, but the danger can be mitigated somewhat if you are smart and pay attention to others' accidents. Thanks for the post JayB. This and the recent death in Vail has my attention! [ 01-10-2002: Message edited by: David Parker ] Quote
W Posted January 10, 2002 Posted January 10, 2002 The top-out issue on ice climbs really is something to consider. I imagine everyone has at least one good story about scraping through the top of a climb that lacked ice, in it's place mud, rocks- or worse, snow over mud and rocks. Two stories illustrate this danger to be reckoned with: A friend from Montana was trying to top out as he was finishing the first ascent of a new stringy WI6. He clawed and pedaled his hands through liquid mud and peeled off; his first screw, in a weak section of chandaliers, ripped of course, and he fell 100 feet to the ground; however, his next screw inexplicably held and began to slow him just before impact, and he came to land somewhat hard, but softly enough, to land on his feet, remaining STANDING UPRIGHT, as the rope went tight. No injuries! Another story was not so happy: my friend was belaying in the Ouray Box Canyon a few years ago. A nearby soloist on a WI3 was five feet from topping out, and scratching through poorly bonded ice. He came off and went 100+ to the deck, hitting so hard he bounced two or three feet into the air and then through the ice and into the creek. A whole load of climbers assisted with his rescue which included an airlift; amazingly, he lived, but apparently sustained major vertebral fractures and other very serious injuries. The moral is, if in doubt of the top-out, be sure to get some bomber gear before gunning for the top, if it's available. If it's not, well...ice climbing is just dangerous. Know your limits. Quote
forrest_m Posted January 11, 2002 Posted January 11, 2002 Max wrote: quote: I think alot of people get tired of hearing horror stories. ...But these incidents are great opportunities to stop and look at what we do and think about the risks we take and if and how we want to minimize them. I was at a party a few years ago, not a climber’s party per se, but there were a several of us there, and naturally we clustered around the drinks table talking climbing. Overhearing us, a non-climber was horrified at how we were casually analyzing a recent fatal climbing accident, accusing us of being callous and insensitive to accuse a dead person of making mistakes. Our defense was provided not by us, but by another non-climber, who as it so happened worked for Boeing’s flight testing division. He went on to explain that one of the reasons flying is so safe is because the analysis of accidents is very strong in aviation culture, and there are official channels for the investigation and dissemination of information relating to virtually every accident. Not only do they analyze accidents, but pilots are encouraged to report incidents that, while they didn’t result in an accident, could have under different circumstances. The flight-test guy put out the theory that climbers’ obsession with stories of close calls and disasters was an informal version of the aviation world’s incident review system. I have always agreed. I don’t consider myself morbid, but I spend a lot of time reading and thinking about accidents. I know that you can’t ever be perfect, but it’s also true that most accidents aren’t the result of a single mistake, but rather the combination of several. The more you learn the less likely you are to make enough mistakes to get into trouble. Quote
David_Parker Posted January 11, 2002 Posted January 11, 2002 Nice post forrest, thanks! Chuck Yeager should/could have been an ice climber! Quote
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