Volunteers Hone Skills for Mountain Rescues

Jim Edwards, former mayor of La Canada Flintridge and current Montrose Search and Rescue Team volunteer, catches his breath at the bottom of a 150-foot-deep canyon in Angeles National Forest. After climbing down the rocky slope, the 56-year-old must--somehow--climb back up.

Slowly, he inches his way upward, painstakingly searching for footholds in the craggy rock face. As he labors, five fellow volunteers lean over a bridge above him and offer friendly support.

“Need a puff on the inhaler, Jim?” one calls out.

Over a barrage of laughter, Mike Leum, a Montrose volunteer and spokesman, said, “This is not for the thin-skinned.”

This is a typical training day for Montrose Search and Rescue, one of eight such units in the county. The self-proclaimed “busiest search and rescue team in the state” trains and retrains in mountain rescue skills so that when an emergency occurs, members are ready to respond. So far this year, the team has answered 70 calls. Last year, it was 63.

Founded in 1947, the program became part of the Sheriff’s Department Reserve unit in 1953. The county budgets $5,000 each year for the nonprofit group.

The 25 men and one woman each earn $1 a year to safeguard 500 square miles of Angeles National Forest--a driving, hiking, skiing and climbing mecca 20 minutes north of downtown Los Angeles. Volunteers work regular Monday-through-Friday, 9-to-5 jobs as teachers, nurses and small-business owners. But, when a motorcycle drives off the Angeles Crest Highway or a rock climber gets stuck in Big Tujunga Canyon--night or day, job or not--the volunteers drop what they’re doing to help.

For members, who average 18 years as members, dedicating their lives to search and rescue is par for the course.

“We’re not looking for someone shopping for a hobby of the month,” Leum, 39, said. “It’s a big-time commitment.”

Initial training for search and rescue volunteers is rigorous and all-consuming. Volunteers spend more than 20 weeks--most of it during nights and weekends--in the Sheriff’s Reserve Academy. Next comes emergency medical technician certification, followed by up to two years learning search and rescue skills such as climbing, rappelling, avalanche and water rescue.

And as if that weren’t enough, the 2% of applicants who successfully complete the training and make it onto the team must review their mountain rescue skills every two years.

One such session started at 7:30 a.m. on a recent chilly Sunday morning, when 16 volunteers congregated at the Crescenta Valley Sheriff’s Station before heading out to test rock-climbing techniques at Big Tujunga Canyon. Like football players suiting up for the big game, volunteers pack their orange hard hats, goggles and climbing gear in the locker room, joking and catching up with old friends.

Volunteers treat one another like family members, though their backgrounds are disparate. Some live in one-bedroom apartments. Others own shopping malls. The youngest volunteer is 25; the oldest, 72. About half are married.

But when it comes right down to it, volunteers said, all they need to have in common is a shared commitment to the team--and the excitement a search and rescue brings.

“Our pagers go off and we know someone’s in trouble,” Leum said. “We live for that kind of adrenaline.”

The dedication to the “job”--volunteers get paid about 77 cents a year after taxes, mainly so they can qualify for workers’ compensation if they get injured--translates into early mornings and long days in the mountains. “It’s a lot of time, but when you like something it’s worth it,” said Janet Henderson, 38, who has been a volunteer since 1996.

To retain a spot on the team, each member must respond to at least 25% of the team’s emergency calls. In addition, members are required to work at least one shift per month, patrolling the Angeles forest.

On the way up Mt. Gleason Road to Big Tujunga Canyon, site of the rock-climbing review, 27-year team veteran John McKently, 50, said the forest keeps rescuers plenty busy.

“[Angeles Forest] is intensely overused, abused, however you want to put it,” McKently said.

Many forest visitors mean many forest rescues. Volunteers respond to everything from cars over the side and commuter plane crashes to climbers stuck on cliffs and skiers and snowboarders lost in the snow.

Some calls are flashier than others: the bodies buried by the Hillside strangler and the body of former L.A. Raider cheerleader Linda Sobek put the rescue team on the front page. But certain rescues, though they may not make many headlines, can be more personally significant for volunteers, they said.

At 9 a.m. on the Sunday training day, Paul Burridge, 41, leans over the bridge and directs climbing volunteer John Camphouse. As Camphouse begins his spider-like scramble up the canyon wall, Burridge recounts his most memorable call.

In April 1997, a family of four was sitting at a turnout on Angeles Crest Highway getting ready to leave. But instead of putting their car in reverse, they accidentally drove forward--and off a cliff. All four were thrown from the car.

The parents died, but Burridge and others helped extricate the two injured daughters from the hillside.

“It was really great to be a part of that,” said Burridge, who works as an aerospace engineer. “That’s precisely why I joined the team.”

Alan Edwards, 42, the team’s captain, said the most fulfilling rescues often involve children.

A little more than 10 years ago, Edwards and his partner were on patrol and parked at a turnout 20 minutes up Angeles Crest Highway when two parents pulled alongside with their 9-month-old baby boy.

The parents said the boy had stopped breathing.

Edwards and his partner resuscitated him and brought him to a nearby hospital, saving his life.

“If the baby didn’t have medical attention, he wouldn’t have survived,” Edwards said.

The successful rescues make the heavy responsibilities and taxing training worth it, volunteers said. And though members said the commitment can sometimes be hard on family members and friends, most are proud.

About noon, as the volunteers began packing their gear and heading back home, Nancy Leum, 41, stood in the middle of the bridge over Big Tujunga Canyon with her two sons, Garrett, 5, and Hunter, 9. As the two boys watched a volunteer climb out of the canyon, Nancy said a lot of people wonder how her family handles having Mike as a search and rescue volunteer.

Her response? “I feel like he’s setting a good example for the boys. I’m very proud of him for doing this,” she said. “There’s a lot of people--for the amount of time and training--that wouldn’t do this.”