Blood on the Rocks

by Michael Calnan

Mark had been in San Diego for only 10 days and it was his first time at the gym. He had moved out from the Midwest to take a job in one of the many communications companies springing up in the Sorrento Mesa area. Mark had been climbing for over 7 years and had been to many exotic places like Canyon Lands, Rifle and New River Gorge. I was looking for a partner to spend the weekend on some moderate crack climbs up at Tahquitz. I needed to spend some time at altitude to get ready for bigger things in the Sierras later in the month. Mark had never been to Tahquitz and was eager to go so he easily agreed to head up with me on the next Friday night, spend Saturday and Sunday climbing, and return to San Diego early Monday morning.

Saturday morning found us recovering from a night of poor sleep at Black Mountain in the Idyllwild Cafe. We had arrived late and been chased out of our first bivy site by a group of young rowdies from the San Bernadino area. When they started throwing pallets on the fire at 1 AM we left for a quieter site. We were joined at breakfast by Paul Kortepates and Oonagh McHugh, who were up for the day to climb at Suicide. We chatted for a while and headed up the hill to Humber Park around 9 AM.

Mark and I set out for the northeast recess where I hoped to find one of the long 5.8-5.9 crack climbs open. We arrived to find Sahara Terror, Hoodenett, Consolation and Illegitimate all congested with multiple parties. I had been meaning to do the Swallow, just to refresh my memory of how awful the off-width is, so we roped up and started up the first pitch around 10 AM. Mark led up to the base of the headwall on his 60 meter rope and set up an anchor. I followed, grabbed his remaining gear and led up through the horrible off-width, stopping when I ran out of rope at another headwall, about 30 feet above the usual belay stance for the second pitch. I set up an anchor with 3 pieces for myself and a solid green Alien above me for Mark. I set it up so that the rope ran from my belay device and up through the anchor before going down to Mark. This would allow me to assist Mark through the off-width, should it be necessary, by locking off and putting my weight on the rope. Also, if he slipped, then I would be pulled up instead of down. Mark needed no such assistance and was soon at my side. I handed him my remaining gear and he led off on the third pitch.

Mark was about 150 feet out and I was paying out the rope smoothly. It was obvious that he was on easy terrain. Suddenly about 10 feet of rope fell back down on me and was pulled up again and then I felt weight on the rope. ÿHoly ----!ÿ I thought. I hadnÿt heard a sound from Mark. What had happened? Then I heard other climbers on the routes on either side on me, screaming that Mark had fallen at least 40 feet and that he was badly hurt, blood was everywhere. I cried up to Mark to see if he was still conscious. He answered weakly. He wanted to be lowered. I lowered him slowly, communicating with him the whole time as he was out of view. I finally felt his weight come off the rope. It was between 11:15 and 11:30 AM.

The climbers on Consolation had seen Mark fall and one of them, Tom Murphy, was able to swing over to Mark, set up an anchor and tie him off. He then belayed me up to where Mark lay, in a body-width wide groove that sloped across the face at a 30 degree angle. Mark's hair was matted with blood and there was blood on the rocks above him and all over his rope, gear and clothing. He was in great pain and moaned constantly.

Mark could not remember how he had fallen. He could not remember my name or how he had gotten to Tahquitz. Above Mark were two pieces, placed about 10 feet and 25 feet above. Above the last piece there was a sloped ledge with some large bushes on it. I tried to calculate where he must have fallen from, based on his distance below the last piece and the distance I think I lowered him. It was a healthy distance. I checked the rope for pulled pieces. There were none. Later I heard that one of the climbers on Consolation, who had witnessed his fall, thought Mark had cried, "Rock!" just before falling.

Another climber, Bruce, who was leading Hoodenett, joined me. He anchored himself at Mark's feet while I was anchored at Mark.s head. His partner, Benjy, remained at their last belay anchor, somewhere above the chimney pitch. We used Benjy to relay messages to the climbers below, who then relayed messages to people on the ground. We asked for someone to go for help and we asked for people to go fetch the litter at Lunch Rock. Benjy had a jacket that he was able to pass up to Bruce. We covered Mark as best we could. We were afraid he was going into shock.

I intended to haul up the litter, place and secure Mark in it, lower Mark to the base, and then transport him down to Humber Park. I knew this had been done in several other rescues that I had witnessed and heard about. I was present when an inexperienced climber fell on Clam Chowder at Suicide. He was packaged up and carried out within a two hour time frame. There were several experienced climbers and guides nearby who were able to get things moving. Unfortunately that climber's injuries were so severe that he was DOA.

I secured Mark and myself to the anchor with slings so that I could drop full length of our 200' rope down to the climbers below us. Mark was in enormous pain and rambled on, giving us names and numbers of people to contact, such as his parents and his work mates. He was unable to move his left leg or either arm. He felt he had broken his upper thigh or pelvis and both his shoulders. He was very uncomfortable and several times asked to be lowered to a more comfortable ledge, only to cry in pain when we attempted to lift him. At times Mark felt he was going to black out or vomit. He had a large bloody lump on the left side of his forehead, above the hairline. His other injuries were not visible but apparent whenever moved. We set up some slings to keep his legs in a more comfortable position and this allowed him to take some weight off his harness from time to time by pushing himself up with his right leg.

Time was passing and there did not seem to be any noticeable activity below. We cried for the litter. We asked if help had been called. Tom's partner was above him and he needed to get going. He left me the pieces he had used to set up the anchor for Mark. As he climbed to rejoin his partner he took the pieces that Mark had placed above us. We agreed that he would leave a note on my car with his name and number so that we could exchange gear later.

Time passed slowly. Let's just say that I did not get the litter for at least 5 hours. I even rappelled down to the top of the chimney on the Swallow to see what was going on. The climbers below us, who kept telling us that they were at the belay on the second pitch, were at the top of the first pitch. With the help of a non-English speaking Japanese climber I was able to flip the rope into a position well below the bottom to the off-width on the Swallow, about midway up the second pitch. Even so it took several hours for the litter to be tied on. To their credit the climbers on the Swallow did tie on a jug of water that went a long way towards keeping Mark and the rest of us going during that long, hot afternoon. To get the jug, and litter, I had to tie Bruce's rope to the end of Mark's to give the climber below another 15 feet. Whatever.

When the litter arrived it was only a reluctant Bruce who was there to help put Mark in the litter. This was a job that required at least three strong people, who were confident with their belay anchors, so that they could work with their hands free. Bruce did not appear very confident and his partner Benjy even less so. Bruce belayed Benjy up and then we had Benjy climb through to set up another anchor above that could be used to manipulate the litter. There were strong voices from below and around me that insisted that we should wait for a search and rescue team. I made a half-hearted attempt to position the litter next to Mark but I knew it was hopeless without more experienced people. I wondered where they had all gone. The last guy to bif at Tahquitz this year were hauled out in a relatively short time by other climbers. What was going on?

The sun had slowly made its way westward and was starting to drop into the horizon. I was getting worried. At 7 PM there was still no sign of any help arriving, not from other climbers, not from any rescue team. We only had the assurances from the climbers below us that a search and rescue team was on its way.

Around 7:30 PM I don't know what arrived first, the helicopter, or the cry of an orange helmeted woman from high above and right, near the top of the Illegitimate. Either way we waved and screamed. We reported Mark's state of health and mind to the woman above and waved at the men in the helicopter. It seemed like hours later before two red-clad men came into view, rappelling down the face directly above us. I could see that they were uncomfortable rappelling. They were paddling their feet on the face, causing a lot of small rocks to fall on Bruce, Mark and I. The metal litter rang loudly several times and Mark screamed in pain when he took a direct hit on the top of his head.

With the sun going down and rescue on the way Bruce and Benjy took off for the summit, rejoining Hoodenett. Benjy left Mark with his jacket and we promised to return it as soon as possible if he would leave his name and phone number on my car.

The two men reached the end of their 300 foot static lines above 30 feet above Mark. They had brought another 300 foot line with them. They tied an end of this line to the ends of the two static lines that were anchored somewhere on the top. This allowed Jim Zuberbuhler and Bob Baker to rappel down to Mark, arriving at his side around 8:15 PM. These two were in contact with others at the top of the cliff, who in turn were in touch with the helicopter that had been hovering around for the past half hour. There was some confusion above how they were going to get Mark out. The helicopter wanted to use their litter. Soon an ultimatum was handed down by the helicopter. - Get the subject packaged up within 10 minutes or spend the night on the cliff. We got our asses in gear.

The helicopter hovered overhead, dangling 100 feet of steel cable. Attached to the end of the cable was a device with 4 short cables terminated with locking carbiners, used for lifting a litter. I was impressed that the cable remained relatively motionless, about 5 feet behind us, while Bob, Jim and I worked to move Mark into the litter. We nudged Mark into the litter, who screamed from the pain. I stuffed Benjy's jacket under Mark's head. Bob and Jim set to work securing Mark to the litter by lacing some webbing back and forth across his body, in the process lacing over one of their static lines. I started thinking about how we were going to detach the litter from the anchor. Mark's rope was tied to the litter with a figure 8. The rope ran around the frame of the litter, and through a sling that had been used to haul the litter and though a locking carabiner that was doing nothing. A long runner from Mark's harness now ran up to the sling on the frame and was attached with a carabiner. Mark's rope held the litter from sliding off the face of the cliff. The rope was attached to a multi-piece anchor with a clove hitch. With Mark's weight in the litter the rope, and knots, were under tension. I considered securing the litter with some slings so that I could untie Mark's rope but decided there would be no time. Bob and Jim were busy freeing their static line and resecuring and Mark and I would need help to move the litter to change the anchor and take the tension off Markÿs rope. As Bob and Jim were attaching the litter to the cable I really started to worry about what would happen to me, Mark, the litter, and the helicopter if the rope was not detached from the litter very soon. I cried for a knife above the noise of the helicopter and Bob handed me one. Mark was secured to the litter and ready for liftoff. I had Jim hold the litter and I cut the rope. We gave the sign and the litter was lifted from the face of Tahquitz, swinging across the cliff, above 5 feet off the face, for about 50 feet before being hauled into the sky. It was probably about 8:30 PM.

I cleaned the anchor and coiled the rope as Bob and Jim used their ascenders to move the 30 feet up to the ends of their 300 foot static lines. I batmanned one of their ropes to the ledge they were on. Bob and Jim packed away the 300 foot static that they had tied on to get down to Mark. They jumared up to another ledge another 30 feet up and I batmanned up after then. After some thinking it was decided that Bob would use his ascenders to go up his rope, leaving the gear with Jim and me. Jim and I would then be hauled up along with the gear on the hauling system the S&R team had assembled above. What resulted was the most uncomfortable part of the event as, dressed in shorts and a tank top, and having spent the entire day in the blazing sun on a small ledge on the face of Tahquitz, I hung for over 3 hours in my harness, shivering in the cool night air.

Jim and I tied onto the rope through figure eights tied on a bight, Jim about 25 feet above me. The hauling system consisted of two large pulley blocks, one with 2 pulleys and the other with 3, for a 5 to 1 ratio. A Gibbs ascender was used to lock off the rope between pulls by the team. Not far from the top the 12 mm static rope ran over an 80 degree edge with no roller. There must have been at least 450 pounds on the rope between Jim, me and the gear. Apparently the Gibbs ascender kept slipping. At one point I overhead a disturbing question come in on Jim's radio. Bob called down and asked ÿAre you moving? We weren't. I immediately scrambled for a nearby ledge and considered setting up an anchor as I thought about what the question meant. Was the static line above us stretching to the point of breakage?

We arrived on top near midnight. Bruce and Benjy were there and had made up part of the haul team. Benjy said it had been a good way to stay warm. One of the S&R team lend me a jacket and I bounced around for a while to get the feeling back in my legs. Jim lend me a headlamp and I took off down the northside talus with Benjy close behind.

I was surprised how fast Benjy was able to move given that I had the headlamp. We made it back to the base of the northeast recess in no time. I dug out my headlamp and gave Jim's headlamp to Benjy so that he could gather up his and Bruceÿs packs. I packed away my gear and the rope and happily donned Markÿs Five Tennies in lieu of my Tevas. I was wasted and spent a few minutes resting, drinking water and downing a Clif bar while Benjy waited. We hiked down to Humber Park with only a few wrong turns. A S&R truck was there but the lights were out and it looked like nobody was home despite the sound of a nearby generator. I exchanged addresses and phone numbers with Benjy and then sat in my car, seat back and snoozing, until I saw a group of headlamp-toting people arrive from the south side trail.

I returned the jacket and headlamp to their owners and waited for the S&R team to pack up their gear. I learned from them that Mark had been taken directly to Desert Hospital in Palm Springs in the helicopter. It sounded like Mark had been in a lot of pain the whole way. Jim Zuberbuhler offered me a beer, a shower and a bed for the night. It sounded really good. I arrived at Jim's house in Pine Cove near 1:30 AM and partook of all he had to offer. Thank you Jim.

Sunday morning I called Mark's parents and had a strange conversation with Mark's mother. Mark had already contacted them from the hospital that morning. I stressed how badly hurt I thought Mark was and left it at that.

I met Bob Baker and another S&R member at the Idyllwild Cafe and had breakfast courtesy of the Idyllwild S&R team. Jim had some business to attend to and joined us a little later. I listened in on their conversation as I munched on Eggs Benedict. I added my two cents as to their use of a Gibbs ascender in their hauling system. Apparently they had just had a bad day in term of organization and equipment. Jim told me that he did not get a call until 3:30 PM and that it was typical to take several hours to get the team together and equipped once they got the call. Some organizational disputes had slowed things down even more, which further contributed to their late arrival.

After breakfast I headed to Palm Springs to see Mark, deliver his wallet and some of this personal effects to him, and to recover Benjyÿs jacket. I found that Mark had arrived at the emergency room around 9:30 PM and had been moved into a hospital room at around 1:30 AM. I found him lying on a bed with an IV in his left arm, a phone at his right hand. He still had blood on his face and lips. The bed was slightly inclined to put his hip in a better position. He told me he had fractured his left pelvis, and both right and left clavicles. He was able to move both arms slightly, probably due to whatever painkiller they were giving him. I spoke with Mark for a while and then went in search of his climbing gear and Benjy's jacket.

Mark's climbing shoes, one sling and one carabiner were on a chair in his room. I spent an hour hounding a variety of people as to the whereabouts of the rest of his gear. The people in emergency said the litter was still there but there was no sign of any of Mark's clothing or climbing gear. The people in the hospital said that if his affairs were not in his room they hadn't a clue where they would be.

To this day the location of Mark's climbing gear, clothing, Benjy's jacket, and all that left with Mark in the litter that Saturday evening remain a mystery. Mark remembers the helicopter touching down and a crowd of people examining him, after which the helicopter took off and carried him to the hospital in Palm Springs. Bob Baker confirmed that the helicopter landed in Keenwild, to the east of Mountain Center, so that Mark could be examined by the S&R medical team. Calls to Jim and Bob of the Idyllwild S&R failed to shed any light as to what became of Mark's belongings.

Mark's relatives came during the following week to transfer him to the house of a relative in the midwest who could care for him. I have not heard from him since he left the hospital. His car sits in front of my house. All his remaining climbing gear sit in the trunk. I expect to see him back in a month or so, when he can walk again.

This accident left me very disillusioned. I felt that the climbers in the vicinity let Mark down in not coming to his aid or in not having the ability to provide any. The phrase of the day was,ÿ"Wait for search and rescue, wait for search and rescue". The climbers I know don't wait for anyone else to come and save them, they take care of themselves to the best of their abilities. In the ten hours that it took for the S&R team to get Mark to the hospital a badly injured climber could have died.

Think about what it's like to spend 10 hours, broken and bleeding, hanging on the face of a cliff while those around you do nothing. We owe it to our fellow climbers to know how to perform a rescue. Those litters aren't sitting up at Tahquitz for the S&R team, they are there for us. If you don't know how to use one, learn.

As for the S&R team, it was the first time I've seen one in action. I understand the Idyllwild team wins the yearly contests held for such teams. Let me say that these guys are not climbers, they are not as comfortable with ropes and gear as an experienced climber, they don't know the area as well as the climbers and they take hours to get to the scene.

Think about this next time you want to "Wait for search and rescue". What these guys do have is access to resources such as helicopters, heavy duty rappelling and hauling gear and the knowledge and confidence to use it all. These guys are volunteers. They work day jobs like you and me. The difference is they train regularly and they are on call to serve in a rescue operation day or night.

I think S&R are a resource to call on ONLY if the injured person can't be brought down by the climbers themselves. If you do wait for S&R, be prepared to wait a very long time, and be cautioned that anything that goes with the person being rescued (right down to the shirt on their back) is unlikely to be seen again. This fact may not be on your mind as you are watching your injured climbing partner being hauled into a helicopter. It is just another cost to consider.

3 August 1997 I led the Swallow this Sunday, to look for the sunglasses I left behind in the dark of July 12th and to retrace the steps that led to Mark's fell. The sunglasses were gone, and I lost the pair I was wearing when I fell myself just below the ledge where Mark lay for 9 hours, but I did discover the cause of Mark's fall.

After checking the crack in which I stashed my sunglasses sometime around sunset on July 12th I continued up another 30 feet to a large ledge. It is at this ledge that the Swallow joins Hoodenett. To get onto Hoodenett it is necessary to traverse left and slightly down to the base of an offwidth. Mark had continued straight up from this ledge, into the chossy rock covered with black lichen. I had told him the routes joined at a ledge at the top of the fourth pitch but with our 200ÿ rope we were only on our third pitch when Mark arrived at the ledge. Mark was climbing in the no man's land to the right of Hoodenett when something broke, precipitating his fall. He would have fallen from a ledge, dropped 10 feet onto another ledge and then dropped 10 feet again onto the next ledge before the rope arrested his fall.

What happened to Mark could happen to any of us. It is easy to find yourself 10 to 15 feet above your last piece on the long 5.8/5.9 routes at Tahquitz. Falling on a 10 mm rope when you are out 150 feet adds at least another 10 feet of distance to a fall when the stretch and slack are accounted for. Falling on a route at Tahquitz, even with a piece at your waist, could put you in the hospital. We are seeing more accidents these days just due to the sheer volume of climbers on the routes. We owe it to ourselves to learn how to respond to these situations.

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