Despite frequent disagreements, my brain and I have been best-of-friends for over 40 years. Mine is a typical three-part brain whose main purpose is to tell me (my body) what to do and what not to do—a built in “parent” of sorts. You can see the potential for hostility is great. No one likes taking orders, even from their closest friend.
Now I figure that I’m probably not the only person with this problem. As a matter of fact, I’m betting there are several million skiers out there wrestling with this very issue. Picture this:
You are standing on the brink of a downhill trail that (you think) would make a potato close its eyes with fright. The following conversation ensues:
Body—”O.K. let’s have some opinions here.”
Id—”Go for it you gutless marshmallow!”
Ego—”We got what it takes—burn the hills and sail the corners!”
Superego—”I’d suggest that we wait till spring, let the snow melt and walk down.”
Try one more. You’ve been skiing for several hours, light is beginning to flatten, you are relatively fatigued, but still skiing quite well. Ahead is an intersection with three trail signs, all of which point you toward the base lodge: Easter Bunny Trail 1km, R.I.P. shortcut 30 yards, Bee Bop Ramble 3km.
Body—”I’m flexible.”
Id—”Bomb the shortcut—it’s getting dark, Dummy!”
Ego—”Bee Bop, Baby—let’s Boogey!”
Superego—”Bunnies are nice.”
These kinds of situations and decisions (to greater or lesser degrees) are benchmarks in every skier’s day. This is the stuff of stories for grandchildren, the substance of office-heroworship and the essence of coffeebreak-legends. Unfortunately, these judgments are also found at the root of most search and rescue problems. Injuries, lost or overdue people and lack of snow are right at the top of the Anguish List for all ski area operators. Actually, lost and possibly dead skiers would probably make us forget about lack of snow real fast! We need to add a bit more perspective.
People ski at our centers because we offer facilities, services and freedom. At our centers, people tend to ski unencumbered—without packs, without emergency supplies and without extra clothes, food or water. There is no question that many of them ski without recognizable technique and free of the bonds of physical fitness. Why? The answer comes full circle: because we foster it. We offer outdoor “wilderness” opportunity with minimal risk and maximum enjoyment. In the real wilderness the price for poor judgment is high. At the touring center it usually makes for entertaining tall tales.
As an industry, we are not well prepared for search and rescue (SAR) incidents. Few centers have developed workable SAR plans, yet we all have the best ingredients for potentially difficult SAR problems. We haven’t assembled sophisticated plans for a number of reasons.
First of all, we have done a pretty good job with preventative SAR. Most trails are well-signed. Trail names, intersection numbers, degree-of-difficulty signage and understandable maps have become commonplace. Trail design, maintenance and grooming is trying to keep pace with technology and skier growth. Central access points, posted and enforced skier hours, trail guides and ski schools all contribute to minimizing SAR. A growing number of centers have developed “courtesy” or NSPS ski patrols, have established trailsweep procedures or have experimented with free orientation sessions for new skiers at their areas. These achievements should make us feel good, but not smug, because although our SAR problems are reportedly few, without vigilance and planning we can expect the problem to increase geometrically with skier growth.
A second reason for lack of initiative in the SAR area is a rationalization: “We’ve hardly ever needed it!” I wish I knew how true this was. I do know SAR incidents are not generally publicized in ski area literature and don’t know of any surveys with meaningful cross-country SAR data. On the negative side, however, we can agree that skiers and ski equipment are improving. People are skiing further and faster in thinner, more fashionable clothing and on better trails that reach deeper into remote regions. More trails and greater distances require more skier decisions and will result in more body-brain conflicts. (Note: Although they clash with the muted colors of the latest fashions, bright yellow T-shirts are available from the National Association of Search and Rescue that say “Get lost—Support Search and Rescue!”)
Another common reason for our lack of preparation is that we assume finding a lost person on snow-covered trails is something akin to finding your yo-yo on the end of your string. (Did you ever hear about the hunter who followed a track for three days—and finally shot the train?) There are dozens of reasons why missing skiers are difficult to find. Being tired, cold, hungry and scared sets the stage for a three-Part Brain War that clouds judgement and promotes unusual, irrational behavior. With a skier’s capability for travelling over five miles per hour, the size of a potential search area becomes mind-boggling if fast action isn’t taken. If a short-cut or extended pit stop pulled the skier off the trail, say goodbye to sanity! Blowing or falling snow can cover tracks quickly, some snow conditions leave only the slightest evidence of tracks and if your area is like most, your daily entourage of skiers have made dozens of off-trail stops that would make “tracking” an exacerbating, unproductive alternative.
Finally, the greatest reason for our procrastination in SAR planning is, probably, our self-image. Perhaps we feel prepared—”after all, who knows this wilderness better than we do, and with that snowmobile over there all trails can be checked in just under light speed!” I could tell you a few dozen SAR stories where snowmobiles passed or went over search subjects several times without even seeing them! I think I could also find a number of area operators who would be embarrassed to admit they know very little about the land between their trails or outside their perimeter. “Lack of resources” is perhaps the most common reason I have heard, but it is also the worst of reasons. When you think about it, the centers with the least resources are the ones that need the best SAR plan.
SAR does require resources, but a great deal can be achieved if your plan provides for quick, effective response, wise use of your resources on-hand and a procedure for calling-in volunteer assistance. It will only work if it has been practiced and tested by all those who would be ultimately involved. It requires direction by someone with SAR management training and the necessary authority to utilize all resources effectively. Your plan must also recognize that you are dealing with a two-part problem: Search is a classic mystery—and Rescue is a classic technical problem. The alternative is a potentially costly, even terminal problem.
This is the perfect time of year to assess your past performance and plan for improvements. I could list all the elements and alternatives for a good SAR plan, but it has to be tailored to your area and needs. Besides, organizations and systems exist that have reduced SAR to a science. Our National Ski Patrol Systems trains all their patrollers with a basic understanding of SAR function and many patrollers (including Nordic Patrollers) get considerable training in both supportive and managerial roles. Then we have the National Association of Search and Rescue (NASAR, 9035 Golden Givens Rd., Tacoma, Wash. 98445)—these are the people with the “final word”—SAR is their raison d’etre!
Now it’s time for you to gather a dozen interested people and have a conversation with your brain:
Body—”It’s time for summer hibernation.”
Id—”This Frado guy is two-bricks-short-of-a-load!”
Ego—”Our search and rescue plan is so good, it’s never been taken out of my wallet!”
Superego—”ASAP contact NASAR and NSPS regarding SAR lowdown.”
