MY FIRST RECOVERY Jeff Sands
“T
here’s been an avalanche and we still have one person missing…” was the message greeting me after a long day of work. I knew the routine and quickly ran about my house collecting gear while dialing friends who would help with the rescue. At the parking lot I promptly caught a snowmobile headed out to the accident scene. The mountains rose higher as we motored up the valley, civilization slipping away behind us. The sled strained under our weight as it climbed into a shallow cirque containing several rescuers canvassing the debris field. As night fell, our Herculean efforts secretly passed the ominous threshold from Rescue to Recovery. Our probe grids became tight squares as we stood shoulder to shoulder methodically following the leaders commands of; “Probe Right, up, Probe Center, up …” Through the rising wind a response called out with the emotion of great certainty, “I hit something.” I know we’re not supposed to stop, but we all did. Three shovelers stepped in to test the probe. Hesitantly, but on cue, our line stepped forward while our eyes and attention remained fixed on the sunken probe behind us. Without sound, we could almost hear the slender metal probe striking something as it moved up and down in six-inch stabs. Something was buried eight feet beneath them. “Not too hard,” I thought, he might still be alive. There’s always that chance. At least
... we could almost hear the slender metal probe striking something as it moved up and down in six-inch stabs.
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