Search and Rescue

I was settling into a quiet evening, a few sentences into writing a letter with cold drink I just opened while watching TV. I heard the Chief Ranger knocking on the door to my neighbor's vacant room and thought, "Huh, I didn't know they were friends," and continuing on with my perfectly calm evening. It didn't remain calm much longer. A few short minutes passed before my friend, Mike, knocked at my door telling me that a tree fell on someone and they needed to be carried out. A ranger was working on putting together a SAR (Search and Rescue) team, would I join?


In a few short minutes, a group of ten of us packed into the Beaver, a large and powerful boat used by trail crew. As we zipped out of the no wake zone, we took the Beaver faster than it has gone all season. We all settled in with ear plugs to protect our ears from the loud motor. Some slept on the way, I gave in to my nervous ticks, rocking back and forth, bouncing in my seat, and stretching in an attempt to loosen up. The boat ride was about 45 minutes long.


We picked up a few extra people at Rock Harbor to help with the mission. I got to talk with someone from Rock Harbor I was hoping to befriend. It was soothing to take my mind off the task at hand and learn more about my co-worker. We continued chatting while we sped through the 4 mile hike from where we parked the boat at Todd Harbor to the Hatchet Lake campsite, where our patient was located. As night fell in earnest we had to concentrate more on the alternately rocky and swampy trail we were flying over to keep from losing our footing. All the while we were listening to the radio chatter of other park employees working on this mission.

Map of the Hatchet Lake SAR.
Yellow triangles-locations the employees present for the SAR are stationed, and where they came from.
Dashed black lines-course of boat traffic from employees' home bases (darker line was my route).
Red line-4 mile hike to the site from the boat.
Red star-site of injury and where we met the injured parties.

Just as we learned we would catch up with a group from Windigo (located on the far western edge of the main island) we heard their voices and saw the light from their headlamps. Two people were half carrying and half pushing a litter with a center bicycle wheel. A woman I couldn't recognize said transporting the litter was wearing, and asked me to take the front of it. The litter wasn't light or well balanced and it and was difficult to grip the smooth metal handles with sweaty hands that kept slipping. Every now and then we had to stop to recenter the wheel on the trail. All the same, we rushed onward while I called out, "Rocks on the right!" "Tree trunk across the trail," and "This spot is mucky," to help the person carrying the back who couldn't see around the litter.


Eventually Hatchet Lake, came into view behind the black trees, and before we knew it we encountered one of the injured people. Somewhere in all this we learned that there were actually two injured people and both with suspected spinal injuries, but the other was farther along the trail. The patient I was to help was laying on a door her camp counselor had taken off the privy to keep her back straight and immobile, whimpering in pain, and asking about her injured friend.


The ranger stationed at Amygdaliod Island had taken charge of the situation. She calmly talked to the patient, asking where she was from, how she was feeling, and even if she saw a moose yet. The ranger was so soothing the patient didn't seem to mind as she was quickly and expertly tied into the litter to prevent her from moving and further injuring herself and as we transported her to more advanced medical care. The ranger’s analysis of the situation confirmed that this patient's injuries were looking severe, she would have to be lifted out by helicopter.


It was so dark, and I was not very familiar with this part of the park, so I couldn't say now where we carried her to. I know is it was somewhere along the trail going back to Todd Harbor and our boats, and we heard frogs and toads calling all night.


I can't say much about where we took her, but I can tell you what it was like transporting her. We had to keep the wheel of the litter on the center of the path to make the ride as smooth as possible. The problem was, we needed three on either side of the litter to carry her safely, so we were walking just off the trail. One person walked ahead with a headlamp and warned us of obstacles, much like I had earlier called out. One person walked behind the group, listening to radio updates about where to bring the patient and the status of the helicopters, and reporting our progress. Meanwhile, I helped carry the patient while I walked sideways over rocks and fallen branches through ferns as tall as my shoulders, shimmied around trees while trying to still hold on to the litter, and through swamps and creeks boardwalks would have protected me from had they been wide enough to hold both the litter and those carrying it (again, my feet are always wet here).


We were exhausted. It must have been around midnight. Many had put in full days of work, and I for one didn't enjoy the weekend by sitting around. Carrying the patient through such difficult terrain and trying to give her a smooth ride was slow going and draining.


Suddenly, we heard an eerie cry and someone called out, "A wolf!" Immediately, we stopped, resting our tired muscles as we listened. There are only two wolves on the island, so hearing them is a rare treat. When the cry came again we realized it was a loon and started laughing as resumed our shuffle.





After perhaps a mile one of the folks up front exclaimed, "Stop! There's a toad on the path!" We again rested and changed our positioning while the Amygdaloid ranger checked vitals, and another law enforcement ranger focused on the toad and chuckled, "Protect the resource!" This is one of law enforcement's mottos.


Finally, we came to three birch logs across the path shaped like an arrow pointing to our right. This is how they marked where we needed to trek off trail to a clearing on a ridge where the helicopter would be able to pick up the injured. With renewed energy, we went into the clearing with bats swooping up insects overhead.

We set down the patient near some trees, so they would be out of the way when the helicopter landed. I stretched my sore arms while listening to the radio traffic. A helicopter was on its way. Presently, we saw headlamps through the trees. The second patient was approaching, and our SAR team reunited. The injured friends were positioned near each other, and the rangers responsible for monitoring them sat next to them, again checking vitals, reassuring them that their helicopter was coming, and trying to keep them as comfortable as possible.

Rangers checking in with and comforting a patient.
Photo by Mike Nyre.

Meanwhile, I plopped down on the dewy grass near my friends and tried to relax. Like always, I was hungry so I snacked as I looked up at the brilliant stars. Night comes late this far north, so it was only my second time seeing them. You only need to stay up till midnight or so to see a fantastic night sky, but Mike informed me that it was already 3 o’clock.

Soon, we heard the helicopter from the Coast Guard and radio traffic announcing its presence. The pilot took a couple of laps around the clearing to check it out before communicating that it would be safest not to land, but to lift the patients up through the air and into the belly of the helicopter. This was turning out to be a pretty cool experience! I was excited to see how this unfolded.

The helicopter light was too bright to see the clearing, so they asked us to
illuminate it with our lights.
Photo by Mike Nyre.

First, they approached the site and came in low. We heard the trees swaying energetically then we braced ourselves and averted our eyes as the strong wind pushed us and flung cold dew and grit toward us from the clearing. Next, they lowered a rope with a man in a reflective jumpsuit. Sam and I exchanged animated glances, this was so awesome! The man came over, introduced himself to the patients, and got the low down from the lead rangers. Soon, the bad ass Coast Guard employee was securing the first patient to a different litter, and she was lifted up into the sky. It was amazing to watch all of this happening.

A Coast Guard employee (orange) zipped down to retrieve the patients.
Photo by Mike Nyre.

Before I got to see the second patient loaded, the rangers decided that most of us could go home. I was a little reluctant to leave (it would have been sweet to watch them load the next person!), but I was tired, and I didn’t really have a choice anyway. We carried a litter back toward the boat, and the early birds started singing. By the time we saw the harbor, the sun was breaking over the horizon. It was a sleepy ride back home. Back on the island we all went straight to our dorms. On the way to my room, I passed Jamie opening his door and going to make breakfast. It was 6:30 am.

Details from the event unfolded over the next few days. The campers had strung up a hammock outside of the campground, and one of the trees they attached to was a solid 22 inches in diameter and dead. The dead tree snapped and fell on them, crushing vertebrae, damaging organs, and breaking bones. They were both transferred to level 1 trauma centers near their hometowns. Doctors were glad the patients were removed so quickly.