BUSH SAFETY
ANATOMY OF A
SE ARCH Search and Rescue is a service we hope we never need. Caro Ryan, who has worked for two decades as a land-search volunteer, gives us a fictional account of how a search effort might typically unfold. Words Caro Ryan This story is a work of fiction, but based on Caro’s 19 years of actual search jobs.
S
ATURDAY 8:38 AM The headlights of the Subaru Forester work hard to cut through the mountain mist as Dave turns off the bitumen. Dropping his speed to avoid kangaroos and potholes, the moment brings back memories of long-past adventures, before the claustrophobia of pandemic restrictions and bushfires had forced him inside. This is it—it’s time to get out.
Pushing further away from the city in his mind, he passes through the patchwork quilt of radiata pine, making several turns along logging trails, before crossing the invisible boundary into the national park. It’s years since he’s been here, and although things don’t exactly reflect his memory, he puts it down to newer or re-routed roads, along with the fog of years. Forty minutes along the dirt, he comes to a barrier, standing proud in an attempt to stop 4WD weekend warriors chewing up the park. “It’s no wonder the trip took longer than I remember given the state of the road,” he thinks to himself. He doesn’t remember the barrier being here, but hey, a lot can happen in five years. He peels himself out of his car, body stiff from the long drive, and breathes deeply. Turning to face the light, he closes his eyes and feels the rising sun’s warmth on his face. A kookaburra’s call breaks the silence.
This is going to be an epic weekend.
A braided section of Martuwarra in Nyikina Country as it approaches the King Sound, Western Australia
74
WILD
