Musings from the Roost: Noticing lii

Me in 2012

On July 26, 2006, I was sworn in as a member of the Monterey County Sheriff's Search & Rescue team. I remember the date because as I was taking the oath my team was performing a recovery of two teenage boys from Carmel who had driven over a cliff in south county, on their way home from a surfing trip. It was a tragedy for the local community, and I was struck by the gravity of the work I would be doing.

Winter search management class, 2014

I have written about SAR many times: about mastering technical skills and favorite missions and tying knots and the 24-hour pack and conducting interviews of prospective volunteers and medical skills and a callout involving the dive team and books about SAR and a missing person search and the Tubbs Fire of 2017 and advanced rope training and the Camp Fire of 2018. It has been a big and happy part of my life.

A training in Pinnacles NP
as soon as I joined the team

Well, today I quit. There were one or two years, when I was on the volunteer board, that I made an effort to be active—and I was, qualifying as one of the top five responders one year. But that was a long time ago, and for the past several years, I've barely participated. Today was another training, and again I didn't attend—my excuse being that it was going to rain and I didn't want to practice medical procedures in the rain. As it turned out, the day was fine and clear until late in the afternoon, so it would have been okay. But I had decided: not going. And I didn't.

Climbing a rope

That got me (once again) evaluating why I was even still on the team. I kept telling myself it was in case they needed groundpounders for a search, either in county or as mutual aid for another county: searches require bodies. But even there, would I be willing to struggle through thick vegetation or scale rocky slopes? Would I be able to hike ten to twenty miles? Probably not. I always wished I could have gotten more training in search management, but that didn't happen. And honestly, searches are (fortunately) so few and far between, it's just as well. Why work to develop skills you'll never use?

On a search for a missing hunter

I've also been feeling weighted by the guilt of not responding. When callouts come, I find myself analyzing, rationalizing, rather than jumping in my car, ready to go. Call at a particular state park? Nah, Big Sur Fire will get it and we'll be canceled in 45 minutes. (This tends to be true.) Call to assist an injured hiker? Nah, H-70, the CHP helicopter, will handle it, and we'll be canceled after a lot of standing around on site. (This also tends to be true.) Sometimes the details are so sketchy I decline to respond simply because I have no idea what I'd be getting myself into. (I like information.) If it's a rope rescue, I know I can count on the new members of the team, young and eager, to respond. They love that stuff, and really, only so many people are needed. Plus, my rope skills are rusty. In part because I train so infrequently.

All this added up to the smart, right decision: to resign.

2008, awaiting assessment on a
certification in tracking

I will miss the team, the teamwork, and many of the individuals I've worked with for so long. Though there, too: the team has changed a lot in the past few years, including the leadership, and in some ways I barely recognize it anymore. Which makes it easier to leave. But yeah, I will miss a few people in particular. And I will certainly miss the adventure.

But it's time, and I've got other things to do. No shortage!

So, bye bye SAR. Here are a few photos I took over the years (mostly early on). There are more, and maybe I'll post more later. But for now, this is a good start. I always loved the variety of what we SAR volunteers get (got) to do!