5 minute read
THE CHANGING LANDSCAPE OF SEARCH AND RESCUE
A shifting culture or purely a numbers game?
As the old song goes: “When the shit goes dooooowwwn, ya better be ready.” And if you’re not, British Columbia’s Search and Rescue (SAR) teams will be. In 2020, BC SAR organizations were deployed 2,099 times—more than all other provinces in Canada combined. BC’s SAR forces consist of approximately 2,500 volunteers working in 79 community groups across six defined regions. The Sea to Sky Corridor benefits from eight different SAR groups overseeing an area that stretches from the southwest Fraser Valley up past Pemberton and out to the Sunshine Coast. Despite border closures, stay-at-home advisories, and a lack of international tourism, 2020 was the busiest year on record for Sea to Sky SAR groups, and one of the most complex. The early spring COVID-19 lockdown reminded BC residents that nature nurtures sanity, and when restrictions were eventually lifted, people dispersed into the backcountry like a shotgun blast. Every logging road, pull-out, and hydro cut suddenly filled with parked cars as people searched out any scrap of green space to enjoy away from others. According to David Mackenzie of Pemberton SAR, 2020 also pushed people deeper into the wilderness. “We usually see a lot of calls coming from Joffre Lakes,” Mackenzie says, “but when that closed, places like the upper Hurley, Tenquille, and Semaphore Lakes became hotspots.” This trend carried throughout the corridor as Watersprite Lake, the Squamish Valley, and the Tantalus Range became the fastest growing rescue areas in Squamish. As outdoor recreation becomes hipper and more popular, people will venture further for that #secretselfiespot. “Social media plays a big role,” says Squamish SAR’s Anne Price. “Spots that were relatively unknown a few years ago are pumping now. And it’s not just Instagram and Facebook feeding the frenzy. Apps like Gaia, Trail Forks, and Strava make it easier to share information. ” The spring 2020 closure of BC’s Provincial Parks catalyzed the public’s quest for new areas to explore. Parks generally offer a safer and more functional space where wilderness newcomers can cut their teeth. With parks closed, outdoor recreationalists were pushed to areas with less development and infrastructure such as trail markings, which creates challenges for users and rescuers alike, says Tom Zajac of Coquitlam SAR. “We’ve performed rescues where inexperienced planning contributed to the need for rescue. Now that these remote spots are being ‘discovered,’ we’re expecting people to keep going.” The lack of outdoor courses and classes during COVID-19 limited peoples’ ability to gain skills before they headed out alone. Similarly, directives to only socialize in small, family bubbles likely prevented people from venturing out with more experienced friends, possibly adding to the rescues attributed to lack of experience.
An overconfident reliance on technology can give a false sense of security, with people holding the mindset that carrying an InReach (or similar GPS tracking device) compensates for their lack of experience. This attitude places SAR as the primary backup plan if things go wrong—although SAR members are hesitant to pin the blame solely on new backcountry users. I’ve never been able to determine a primary user group for our services” says Raz Peel, VP of Squamish SAR. “Accidents happen, and they can happen to anybody.” Peel adds that of the 120 calls received by Squamish SAR in 2020, 79 resulted in physical rescues. Improvements in cell phone technology and coverage is helpful, but users still need to know how to find their location and describe their surroundings accurately. The time SAR call takers spend teaching people how to find their GPS location on their phone is time that could be better spent on safe rescues.
Rope rescue on the Stawamus Chief by Squamish SAR. ANNE PRICE
It’s amazing to realize that SAR is a life-saving service staffed entirely by volunteers who operate at a high level to accommodate the varied demands of rescue situations. As part of each one of Squamish’s seven specialty units, Squamish SAR member Shawn Campbell is something of a Swiss army knife of volunteering. He could be dispatched as a level two avalanche
technician or a swift water rescuer; he could be piloting jet boats or dangling out of a helicopter. With each rescue task averaging about four hours, Campbell commits roughly 650-900 hours per year to SAR—not including training time and administrative hours (conservatively, an additional 10-15 hours per week). However, Campbell couldn’t see his life any other way. As volunteer since 2008, SAR has given him lifelong friendships and made him an integral part of the community. “I love the altruistic aspect of SAR. I have a passion for first response and enjoy the fact that I can use my wilderness skills to help others. It’s my dream job, I just don’t get paid for it!” This community-minded motivation preserves the culture, dynamics, and magic of SAR. Despite the fact that volunteers are often pulled away from family dinners, evenings, weekends, work, sleep, ski days and personal adventures when called into action, people are lining up to join the SAR teams. “The whole system is built around giving back to the community,” Peel says. “Just being able to volunteer is, in itself, a great privilege.” Accidents can happen in the wilderness, regardless of one’s level of skill or experience. By first supporting ourselves (and other members of the outdoor community) with proper training, equipment, and good decision making, we are also supporting our local SAR. We know SAR is trained to be ready when the proverbial shit goes down, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be ready as well. –Ben Haggar
*Note: The opinions expressed in this article are those of the participants and do not represent those of the Search and Rescue organization.
