Getting Down Alive

I was relaxing at home one night when the pager went off for a search and rescue operation. Two climbers stuck on a ledge on Mount Tibrogagan with one hiker feared seriously injured.

It is a small community in the glass house mountains but hikers of varying capability come from everywhere to climb the sacred Aboriginal mountains and it is common for people to underestimate the challenges and need help getting back down.

It is dark and nearly an hour’s drive from home to search area. The adrenaline kicked in as soon as the message came in despite the distance. I jumped in my car and started heading north, thinking about the search and rescue operation, the risks and getting myself prepared for what was likely a long night ahead.

Mt Tibrogagan is only 364 metres high, but the track is extremely steep with a vertical rock face to get over ‘chicken rock’ and plenty of scrambling. It is considered the most psychologically demanding glasshouse mountain available for the public to climb. It is dangerous in the day, and even more dangerous at night. You wonder why anyone is out there climbing or stuck in the dark, where they are on the mountain, and what the approach to get them down will look like. Your mind starts to piece together different scenarios as you drive.

On arrival on site there are people scurrying around in the dark with a sense of urgency as the different teams arrive. There is no fancy incident control shelter or van, but you spot what appears to be an emerging control point and head over to get some information. There is no one from your team yet except for a couple of less experienced (non-vertical rescue) members who look out of place, shuffling around the periphery and waiting to be told what to do.

Incident control is generally taken and established by the first service on site. In this instance it was a local team who are local and very experienced in managing incidents in the glasshouse mountains but do not have climbing capability themselves. They establish a functional control point quickly as more crews from the different agencies arrive and an incident action plan emerges.

A specialist remote rescue climbing crew will go up first to locate the couple whilst others wait on standby.   It takes time and is an anxious wait at control for information with lots of energy and a desire to help but nothing to do but listen to the calls coming through the radio.

After what feels like forever, there is news that they have located the girl. She is scared but alive and well. The boy has fallen off the ledge and is somewhere lower. There has been no response from him for some time. He is feared critically injured or dead.

My vertical rescue team is called in to set up a rope line and help bring the girl down off the mountain whilst the specialist crew continue the search and rescue of the boy.

Keen to help we quickly gather our gear (heavy bags of rope and related rescue equipment) before commencing the arduous hike to the rescue point. It is quite a way off the marked track and the terrain and vegetation is unfamiliar and difficult to navigate in the dark.  

We get close on foot without rope but the last section is very steep and slippery so a rope system is set up for safety which will be used by both our team and the girl who will be fitted with a harness.

Just as we are about to make our way down the line, a couple of additional members from another agency arrive to our location. They have arrived late to the party and are full of desire to help and decide that we have done it all wrong and that it should be changed. The dark unfamiliar forest provides limited opportunities for tying off systems but there are still many options, and the incoming team have their own ideas about how it should be done. There is some debate and rerigging before we finish the set up and move down the line.

Whilst we have been trekking in and setting up a line, calls from the specialist team have continued to come in over the radio. By the time we reach the girl the other team have now located the boy. Sadly he is deceased.

There is a distinct change in radio calls and the feeling and dynamic of the rescue changes. It is not spoken but felt. We all subconsciously switch modes - from an urgent search and rescue mission where it was hoped that we would save 2 lives - to one of rescue and recovery (getting the uninjured girl back safely and bringing back down the deceased boy).

Everything slows down, radio chatter decreases, and the language is quiet and in code, enough for the crews to know what the situation is, but with the intent of keeping the girl unaware and focused on her own situation. There is still a difficult task to get her down safely off the mountain and this will become even more difficult if she learns of the boy’s fate and is overwhelmed by distress.

So begins the extraction…..slow steady, careful…a lot can go wrong.

Our rope line finally reaches the end point, and the girl is handed over to our team. She is afraid and distressed, tears smearing her face and welling in her eyes, her body movements shaky and unsteady. She has trouble focusing and needs a lot of support mentally and physically to work back along the rope to the track.

I cannot imagine what is going through her mind. You can see she is struggling with a million thoughts with fragmented concerns and questions bursting out at times, whilst other times she is silent. I suspect that she already knows in her subconscious from the length of time her partner has been quiet and the pieces of radio calls that he is dead. But she does not ask directly, and even if she did, we wouldn’t be able to tell her.

Once back up the rope line there is still a tricky off rope descent to the bottom of the mountain. I am the only girl on the rescue, and I find myself in the role of primary rescuer, developing a bond with the girl, helping her navigate the descent physically and keeping her mind focused and on the task. There is a lot of physical connection, sometimes in helping her step down or around obstacles, and at other times I just hold her hand for comfort. She appears to be holding herself together by the slimmest of margins.

Every now and then she verbalizes her worry that her partner is dead and asks me for information. All I can do is redirect her thoughts to her own wellbeing and getting down safely. I reassure her frequently and tell her that there are lots of other highly skilled teams focused on him. I cannot tell her he is ok, and I cannot tell her he is not, all I can do is keep her focused on getting down safely.

As we get toward the end of the trail, I know what is coming, the frenzy of people who will take over, the media and that my ability to protect this fragile soul will end. I try and prepare her for what will happen when we get back. I tell her that she has done well, that the mountain is tricky, that it is easy to get lost and slip. Most importantly I tell her that when all the noise goes and the quiet comes, to be gentle on herself.

Then as if on cue, when we get near the end of the track, the other members of the different rescue teams who had been walking behind us, suddenly surge forward. Everyone is keen to be with her as we emerge. At the same time people from incident control and ambulance officers approach in front of us. There were probably media too (there usually is) but I cannot remember.

What lingers in my mind is the squeeze I give her hand and the look in her eyes which pleads with me not to let go - “the ambulance officers will look after you” - I say with a lump in my throat. And just like that I let go and slow my steps as others around me move forward and she is handed over. I watch as she is assisted into the ambulance by the paramedics.

I will never see this young woman again but her distress and my helplessness to ease it will stay with me forever.

I had arrived on scene what seemed like a lifetime ago, full of intent and energy to get the 2 hikers down safely. As I walk back to the car I feel the last of the adrenaline evaporate and the physical and mental fatigue kick in.

I am filled with conflicting emotions. The death of the boy and the emotional connection to the girl triggers a deep sense of empathy and sadness. In contrast, getting the girl down alive and well from a dark, slippery and treacherous mountain reminds me how much I love volunteering and helping our community. I am grateful for all of my training, the other members of my team and the privilege of being able to help.

No one ever starts a hike thinking they may not get back alive...