If you’ve lived in this area for an appreciable period of time, you’ve likely been to Holland Falls. It is neither an easy or an onerous hike, with spectacular views, great photo ops, and the excitement and sound track of the falls.
When the call came to the Condon Quick Response Unit (QRU), our phones screeching the alert, the message related a young person with a medical issue tucked up under Holland Falls.
Not too bad, I thought, a nice evening, not unduly hot. As I drove to the trailhead, I began to realize that it was getting dark. I met Tori Matthew and Martin DeHaven on the trail, and we were quickly using flashlights and headlamps.
Jogging a mountain trail, carrying a medical pack, at night, isn’t quite the same as a day hike. We hesitated to catch our breath, because we never know if the patient is critical.
Did I mention it was dark? No moon, slightly overcast, it was dark. I was grateful, in a way, as my acrophobia (fear of heights) keeps getting worse with age. As we age, we seem to get sappier, more emotional, and things like phobias seem exaggerated. If I was teetering on the edge of a cliff, I couldn’t tell.
Not only was the patient at Holland Falls, but she was also waaay up in the rocks. The mist from the falls nicely slicked up the sharp rocks. She was unable to stand or walk, so Marty and I deputized the young guys with her to carry her, one rock at a time, down through the slalom course of slippery hazards. Once we got back to the trail, Tori appeared with a stretcher with wheels. That worked okay on the rocky trail, but it was cumbersome.
In the meantime, our other team members were at work. They went to the campground and found a guy who was willing to drive his bass boat to a point where the trail was closest to the lake. Two delightful young paramedics from the Missoula flight service hiked all the way up the trail and assisted us with the transfer to the boat.
Once in the boat, I had no idea where we were. Fortunately the ambulance folks flashed a light, which was exactly not where I thought we were going. If I haven’t already mentioned it, it was really dark.
The draft of the boat, fortunately, was such that we got close to shore. We slopped up the shore to the ambulance, and then it was down the road to the corral/landing pad, where the helicopter had been chilling patiently.
Watching the metal bird wind up and then levitate through the trees, flashing lights gradually swallowed by the mountain night, was like the last act of a play with many scenes and actors. Not much of a script, more creative improvisation. Pragmatic, clever, git-er-done folks, volunteers, running around in the mountains, climbing slippery rocks, caring for someone they don’t know and never will.
These operations require a lot of resources and humans. Obviously, a significant expansion in hospitality facilities in that area is of concern to those who provide medical and fire services.
Driving home that night I was feeling pretty good, 66-year-old guy hoofing up a trail like that at night, helping carry the patient down the hill. Saying to myself “you still got it going on, you be bad.”
The next morning, I was an 86 year-old guy, nearly frozen in bed, muscles and joints screaming, all hubris extinguished. Not bad at all.
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