Mountain Rescue

Mountain Rescue

I love the mountains, it's the greatest feeling on earth to be chest
deep in snow, wading
through the drifts, the icy wind blowing in your face and freezing the
moisture as it drips
out of your nose. Okay, I know not everybody's cup of tea but to me
it's bliss.

I live in the foothills of the mountains in a beautiful log cabin, the
fire is always well
stoked, and the firelight bouncing off the wood paneling at night gives
a lovely warm
glow, I couldn't imagine being happy anywhere else, and the fact that
we get three feet of
snow eight months of the year, hell that's just a bonus for me.

I've had some real adventures I can tell ya'. Perhaps the most
exciting was just recently.
I had been dozing in front of the blazing fire, it was thirty below
outside, suddenly the
door burst open, and my friend Peter Friedriksonn, came ambling in
looking like a yeti all
bundled up in his snow gear, he fought hard to get the door closed
behind him, the wind
thought it should come in too.

"C'mon Jake. Lets go. Just been called on the radio. Some kid in a
School party
wandered off by himself in the drifts over eighteen hours ago. Every
available man is being
called out to look for him, poor little lads only twelve, we're looking
for a corpse this time
Jake and no mistake."

I roused myself as Pete checked the climbing equipment, and within two
minutes we were
leaving the warmth and comfort of the cabin, for the cold harsh world
outside.

When we reached the general vacinity where the boy had last been seen,
we spread out,
positioning our selves evenly along the mountain. Some of the team were
fastened to each
other a blizzard was building in intensity and visibility was down to
three feet.

I set up a good pace, relying on my instincts to tell me which
direction I just be heading.
After six hours searching, I came to a rocky outcrop. Lets just say I
had a good feeling
about it. Sure enough as I waded along towards it I almost tripped over
a small red bundle
lying in the snow. The poor little fella hadn't made it to the meager
shelter up ahead. I
grabbed him by his collar, and dragged him the final fifty years into
the lee of the
overhanging rock. It only took me a few seconds to dig out a shallow
pit, the snow here
was soft, it had not yet become impacted with ice. I dragged the little
boy into the pit, and
then checked him for body signs, he was unconscious, but still alive:
Just. I lay down
beside him using my body to cover him and give him what little body
heat I had to give.
Now it was just a case of waiting patiently for the others to
arrive.

Every few minutes I called out, just once, at an even pitch, as I had
been trained to do. I
had to resist the urge to bellow for all to hear that I had found him.
to call consistently and
loudly. would have been to risk causing an avalanche.

Soon enough the others found us, the little boy was airlifted to
hospital, and made a
rapid and complete recovery.
There was a lovely picture of the two of us in the papers. the
headline read " Jake the
St. Bernard, makes his 36th brave rescue". Oh boy did that kid have
some good sweets
in his pockets when I wwas allowed to visit him as guest of honour in
the hospital.