Strict called three days later. I quickly got the facts, then called Rusty and Mark. The call came in the afternoon, so we were nearly guaranteed an overnight search. We only had two hours of daylight left but two hours could be a significant start depending on the trail.
“Mark? Ready to roll?” I asked when he answered his cell phone.
“Really?”
“If you’re packed up and ready for three days I’ll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Layer your clothes, it’s going to get cold tonight.”
“This is a real search and rescue call?” he asked, sounding like a little kid.
“Yeah, straightforward tracking call. A family broke down on a mountain road. The dad went for help. Rangers found the wife and kids in the car but the dad left the road, probably thought he could save time going cross-country. That never works in these mountains. The reason the roads wind around so much is because the mountains are so steep. Once you leave a road you are stuck in a canyon, often with no way back up.”
We drove to the compound where Victor and Landon were picking up the search and rescue vehicles. Since there were four of us with four packs, we took one of the SUVs. Victor drove.
After introducing Mark and Victor, I asked if Strict had informed him of the search’s details.
“Yeah,” Victor replied
“And?”
“It’s a normal call as far as I’m concerned.”
Victor drove up to base camp and we checked in with Strict. He gave us directions, and we followed them up a narrow dirt road until we came to a rescue vehicle and ranger truck parked on the side of the road. A group of men stood around talking and waiting for us. We left the SUV and strapped on our packs.
Kelly Green walked up. “Hey, Trouble,” he said giving me a warm hug. “It’s good to see you again. You on this call?”
“Yup, I brought plenty of backup. You know Victor and Landon. This is Mark Mireau.”
“Hey, like the famous photography guy!” Kelly said enthusiastically.
“Yeah, just like him,” Mark said.
“Mark, this is Kelly Green. You both have something in common. You have a bad habit of finding the wrong end of a cliff.”
“Here’s your tracks, kiddo. We started you out on the road where the tracks are plain. I knew you’d appreciate a nice clear start. Your ten sixty-five is Carl Cranston. He’s got a little outdoors experience, warm clothing. He’s physically fit, young. Good luck.”
“Thanks, we only have a couple of hours left today so I better get started.”
I tried to ignore the team as I located the beginning of the trail. The tracks along the road were surprisingly clear. I profiled as I tracked. Medium sized man, shoes on the small side, worn spot on the right side of the right shoe, distinctive tread, short stride. I followed the tracks along the road, gathering facts, ignoring the guys as they waited for the morphing they expected.
“Wait,” said Landon, “it’ll start as soon as she hits the first tough tracks.”
“Hey,” Kelly exclaimed, “you really are Mark Mireau!”
“Wait,” whispered Landon to Kelly, trying not to throw off the morph.
Kelly tagged along. I felt like a mother duck with her tagalong ducklings; I was followed by Mark, camera at the ready, and then Landon who was attempting to coach Mark. Kelly followed, watching the scene with growing interest, while Victor followed last, just taking it all in with a sense of amusement. He knew all he had to do was keep me in sight and everything would be fine.
Once I got a feel for the tracks I jogged along looking for the location where the tracks had left the road. Darkness was coming which meant I’d have to stop. When that happened I wanted to be as far down the trail as possible. As I headed off-road I heard behind me, “Now watch, keep watching…”
Click, buzz, click buzz.
The tracks went into the trees and disappeared when they crossed a bed of pine needles. Okay, time to buckle down.
“Now…” whispered Landon.
Okay, I had to admit, he knew me. I could feel the change almost cloaking me as I had to slow and focus on the tracks.
Click, buzz, click, buzz.
At least Carl had been in a hurry. Usually pine needles were notorious for hiding tracks but these needles had slid underfoot leaving a clear message to me. It felt good to be on a trail again. Tracking was the most natural thing in the world to me. I loved the continuing puzzle that the ground presented. I read and thought and followed. I pieced together the tough parts and continued at a very slow walk. Once I fell into tracker mode I was better able to ignore the camera and the guys. A scuff here, a track there…
“Cassidy,” Kelly interrupted, “I’m heading back. I’ll call Rusty after work and let him know you got off to a good start.
I put a mark next to the last good footprint and gave Kelly a hug before he left.
“Thanks Kelly, he hates these overnight searches. It’ll be good for him to talk to someone.”
“What did you mark?” Mark asked.
“The last footprint I found. It just tells me where to start back up again.”
“I don’t see anything,” he said.
“I do,” I answered. “See?” I outlined the part of the print that was visible. “Let’s go, we want to cover as much ground as possible today. Nights in these mountains are murder on lost people.”
Victor appreciated the stop because he was curious about my last trouble attack. I told them the story as we walked. I paused when I had to concentrate. Victor and Landon were used to that. They knew I’d continue when I could easily track again. Searches often turned into storytelling for me, partly because I always had an adventure to draw a story from and also due to the local gossip at the station. It eased the boredom as we walked miles and miles of rough terrain, cross-country. The footprints led downhill, ever downhill. Occasionally Carl stopped, questioned the wisdom of his decision and decided it was either go back the way he came or continue into the canyon. From time to time I heard the click, buzz of Mark’s camera.
When dusk settled over the mountains we set up camp. It wasn’t easy finding flat spots for four tents but we managed. We began the evening routine that Landon, Victor and I had developed by working together. Mark watched and tried to fit in. A pot of water was heated for everyone to use for backpack food, and then a second pot of water was heated for coffee or hot chocolate. When the meal was finished, the leftover water was used for washing dishes. When Mark had a few idle minutes he wandered out of camp to take more pictures.
“Are you ready for a very cold night?” I asked Mark.
“This is southern California. How cold can it be?” he asked.
“Uh oh, I hope you’re ready for a cold night. What’s your sleeping bag rated for?”
“Twenty degrees.”
“Well, sleep in your clothes and keep your jacket handy. It could easily get colder than that.”
As the sun dipped behind the mountains the temperature plummeted. Everyone pulled out their jackets and gloves then started pacing the camp to keep warm. Victor and Landon did their nightly circuit with flashlights in case Carl could see the lights. Victor then checked in with Strict, giving him our location. Finally, we decided to turn in.
“Why don’t you just light a fire?” Mark asked.
“It’s against park rules. Too much risk of forest fires in these dry woods. If there’s one thing we don’t want back here it’s a forest fire,” Victor answered.
“Up at first light?” I asked as I entered my tent.
“Ten-four,” answered Victor and Landon in unison, but I just got an odd look back from Mark.
I explained to him, “We track while it’s light. So we wake up with the sun. Somebody’s counting on us out there. It’s not nice to keep lost, freezing people waiting so we get up at first light. You’re going to bed early. You’ll get your sleep.”
During the night I heard a tent’s zipper being unzipped. “Don’t go south, you’ll mess up the trail.”
I heard a sleepy, “Okay,” from Mark as I drifted off again. Then came the sound of brush crunching, leafs rustling, a few mild curses and a lot of shivering as Mark attempted to find his way in the pitch-black forest.
“Cassidy! Say something. Where are you? I can’t see a thing!” he whispered loudly.
“Mark, please go back to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”
I heard a brush against tent fabric.
“Okay, here we are.” A tent was unzipped, zipped shut again, and then everything became quiet. My thoughts wandered to home but I checked them quickly knowing I’d start missing Rusty. I’d never get back to sleep if I let that happen.
We awoke to frost on the ground which wasn’t a good sign. I was determined to find Carl that day. I didn’t know how many nights he could survive out in the open. Every overnight search, I found myself cursing the darkness. I would track all night if it was possible to see, but tracking was hard enough during daylight; there was simply no way to do it in the dark.
In the morning we started our meal routine in reverse, with hot chocolate first to warm up stiff hands, then food. While the food was rehydrating I took down my tent and packed it for travel.
Mark shivered, rubbed his cold hands together and stomped around camp trying to stay warm.
“Hot chocolate does wonders. Put something hot in you and you’ll feel better.”
Victor and Landon went through the motions without complaint and were ready to hit the trail quickly.
“Mark, you miss some good photo opportunities in the early mornings.”
“You are not a typical female,” Mark said as he stood shivering.
“Thank you,” I responded.
“All the women I know turn the thermostat up until everybody in the house is roasting. Then they complain about the cold as soon as they step outside, yet here you are as comfortable as the wildlife that lives out here.”
“Who said the animals out here are comfortable? They might be cold too. I come up here prepared for the cold. If you plan ahead and expect it be cold, then it comes as no surprise. Grab something to eat and let’s go. The sooner we hit the trail the sooner we find our ten sixty-five.”
“Wh…where’s your coat?” he asked.
“I don’t need one, I have thermal underwear, a t-shirt, flannel shirt and sweatshirt on. I bet in a mile I take off the sweatshirt. The layers trap heat. I’m perfectly fine like this. Now grab your pack and let’s go.”
“She sure is impatient.”
“I want to find Carl today. You’ve never been on a search before, so you don’t know how critical time can be. I don’t think I have to remind you what it feels like to be out in the wilderness alone, not knowing how you’re going to get back home again. You’ve been there. Now Carl is in your shoes and he’s counting on us.”
That convinced him. “Right, so let’s go,” he said.
I looked around for Carl’s footprints and found them covered with frost. I hoped the cold had frozen the footprints into the dirt but the thawing would deteriorate them, making it a mixed blessing.
Downward, ever downward we tracked until we were on the floor of the canyon. It seemed like I was always tracking in canyons but that’s because these mountains were mountains from the floor up and canyon from the top down. So either way I was either above or inside a canyon of some kind.
Mark must have liked the scenery in the bottom of the canyon, or maybe I was tracking better, because I heard the click, buzz of his camera a lot. The trail became more difficult to read because the canyon was very rocky. I had to watch for sandy spots in between the rocks and ended up having to backtrack. Rocks were the curse of tracking. They offered very little information. I was frustrated at the slow pace of the search.
Once Victor figured Strict was up and about he checked in via radio. “Put Cassidy on,” I heard Strict say.
“Hey, Strict, how’s it going on your end?” I asked.
“Okay. You doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t that long ago you were laid up pretty good.”
“Strict, I’m fine, frustrated with the tracking, but fine. It sure is rocky here. Why do missing people always have to go for rocky places?”
“What’s your twenty?”
“I don’t know, that’s Victor’s job,” I turned to Victor. “What’s our twenty?”
Victor read the coordinates off the GPS and I relayed them to Strict.
“Hell,” Strict said, “what’s he doing there? You’re doing great, kid, just stay on his trail.”
“That’s the plan.”
Staying on Carl’s trail was easier said than done. Occasionally he’d leave a partial track but any track at all gave me a rush of hope. I’d memorize the shape and direction and then head that way. The heel had a shape, the toe, the instep, the outer edge. They were all different so I could tell which part of the footprint I was seeing and imagine the rest, imagine what the step looked like, what the action looked like, where the next step should be. I was so focused on the faintness of the trail I didn’t even notice the guys or what they were doing unless they spoke directly to me. They had to call me by name or I’d assume they were talking amongst themselves.
“Cassidy, lunch,” Landon called out, aware that I’d track until I dropped unless he said something. On an easy trail, the subject of mealtime just came up naturally in our conversation. On a tough trail I’d become so absorbed in the tracking that I’d forget to eat. Without taking my eyes off the trail I reached up to a zippered side pocket and took out a stick of beef jerky and a sandwich bag of trail mix. Lunch. I tracked as I ate.
Carl had bedded down for the night under a low overhang. It had been an uneasy night but I was relieved he had made it through. I spent a little time trying to get a feel for his physical well-being. It was nighttime when the cold settled deep into the bones and the darkness seemed to last forever. I’d never been out in the woods needing help in the winter but had experienced it in the spring. I’d also camped out in the open in the winter. I knew the cold and how it pressed in and seemed to freeze a person from the inside out. Come on, Carl, I thought to myself, find a place to stop and just wait for us, your family is fine. They are in good hands. You could be out Christmas shopping for your little boys.
“Cassidy, quit thinking,” Landon called out.
How did he know? He was getting as bad as Rusty. He knew as long as I stayed Dangerous Tracker Woman we’d be in good shape but if I thought too much my emotions would come into play. I needed to focus on the trail, only the trail. For some reason Victor never reminded me of lunch or admitted that he could read me like a book. I thought Victor and I made a good team, too, with slightly different interactions. Mark must have given Landon some questioning look because Landon started talking about our tracking mannerisms.
I got back on track, found Carl’s footprints and followed easily for a little while. At least he hadn’t headed straight for the rocks again. Carl’s tracks were significantly different leading away from his sleeping spot. Maybe he was hiking in the cold but I feared it might be something worse. After a short time tracking I figured it out. Carl’s feet were numb. He had tried stomping around to get some feeling back but that hadn’t worked, so he continued stumbling along on unfeeling feet.
“Victor, Landon, we’re looking at bad news here. I don’t like this trail.”
“Okay, how old is it?” Landon asked.
“A day. I found where he spent the night, but when he took off in the morning the trail was totally different. I think he’s lost all feeling in his feet. Why is it the more urgent the trail, the harder it is to read?”
“It isn’t, it just feels that way to you,” Landon pointed out. The thought occurred to me that Landon knew me a little too well. I read the tracks, careful to pull all the information I could from them. They were erratic, clumsy, out of kilter. I followed them for a few hours as Carl’s tracks began to wander aimlessly. He had found a place to sit, and seemed to gain some purpose as he rested because his trail straightened out for a bit, but as it deteriorated again I began to despair. At the end of a search wandering tracks indicated a lack of concentration, and this could be brought on by several physical problems, hypothermia and dehydration leading the list. I forced myself to slow down, watch the sign, but sensed time was growing short. This was important and couldn’t be rushed or something might be missed. My tension began to trickle back to the team. We were all silent, tense, following the tracks with diminishing hope until we came to an end. Suddenly the tracks just ended at the bottom of a long drop off. Up above, the highway curved in a big hairpin turn, and where we were at the bottom, Carl’s tracks had abruptly stopped. I examined the foot of the mountain but Carl’s tracks went into the rocks and the only way to go was up. We looked above, listening to the cars as they zipped by far overhead. So near and yet so far.
I began climbing, watching for sign, even in the rocks. Victor and Landon spread out on either side of me, aware that if Carl had climbed he probably had not climbed straight up. The bank consisted of boulders meant to cut down on erosion. Maybe it did that, but it also made for risky climbing. We weren’t sure whether to trust the rocks to stay in place or not, so we tested each one before using it.
“Cassidy? I’m onto it,” said Victor from my left, and Landon and I both started climbing left.
“What have you got?” Landon asked him.
“Blood on the rocks.”
Victor was the one who found Carl. He’d found a place in the rocks to rest. His hands were scraped and bloodied. His expression spoke volumes, not of physical pain but more of fatigue coupled with failure. He was stiff and cold. I stood there in amongst the rocks, numb with my own kind of cold. It was that icy feeling that crept in when I couldn’t do anything, when fate was taken out of my hands. Mark stood at the bottom of the rocks, camera in hand. Victor and Landon had the situation under control so I climbed back down to Mark.
“And that’s why we get up at daybreak,” I said quietly. I set up a partial camp at the bottom of the canyon using my tent for shade. I opened up my stove and set out trail mix and water in case volunteers grew hungry. I cleared an area where people could talk and rest. As I was working, I heard the call go out to Strict. Ten sixty-five found. Ten forty-five D. Coordinates that gave our location. Confirmation that we were just off the highway. A request for a coroner. I walked in amongst the trees, waiting. I knew I’d have a job soon but right now I was fighting off that icy feeling that kept threatening to overwhelm me. Keep moving, Cass, just keep moving. Mark followed helplessly, unsure of what to do, wanting to help me, but aware I needed my space, too.
“What are we doing?” he finally asked.
“It’s going to take a while for the coroner to get here,” I told him. “We need an investigator and the coroner on scene. Once they arrive Victor and Landon can leave the body. We’ll have a camp full of people. I’ll make sure Victor and Landon get something to eat. They can rest in my tent if they need to trade off.”
“What are they doing up there?”
“Guarding the body. Making sure predators don’t get to it. One of them will stay up there until the others arrive. Maybe I’ll take a turn. We’ll be here for a while. Sometimes the coroner has to come up from LA. Make sure and eat dinner before it gets too dark.”
It was a long afternoon. Landon climbed down to eat an early dinner and then climbed back up. Victor climbed down. I ate dinner with him and then grabbed a rifle and climbed up to take my turn on guard duty.
“You don’t need to do this,” Landon told me when I arrived at the body.
“I know, you’d stay up here all night rather than make me do my share. Go on. Nothing’s coming after this body with a camp below and a highway above. We’re just following procedure. I can sit here with a rifle as well as anybody else can.”
I chose a rock and sat, rifle in hand, thinking about Carl, wondering how I could have gotten there sooner, and why tracking had to be so time consuming. I knew all the answers and with every call I’d been assigned, I asked myself the same questions. No matter what the condition of the person, I’d tell myself I could have tracked faster, could have gotten there sooner. The truth, of course, being that had I rushed we may have lost the trail completely.
Lights appeared up on the highway and men soon rappelled down. Finally a coroner’s van parked behind the rescue squad and fire truck. It didn’t take long for a news van to find the action.
I wanted out of there. My job was done. There was nothing I could do now but dwell on the situation and for me that kind of thinking was bad. Tracking required a lot of thinking, but once I hit the end of the trail it would change. Instead of analyzing and categorizing minuscule clues it reverted to a more emotional thought process. I needed something to occupy my mind, give it a job to do. I wandered in and out of the trees, staying within sight of the camp. I was trapped with my thoughts which were spiraling out of control.
“Stop, blaming yourself,” Landon said out of the darkness.
“That’s what I always do,” I answered sadly.
“It wasn’t your fault. It never is.”
“It doesn’t stop the feelings from escalating. I can’t help it… If…”
“Nope, don’t start with the ‘what ifs’. You did your best, it’s more than anybody else could have done. You got us here just like you were supposed to. So stop blaming yourself.”
It was late at night when the four of us were finally able to follow the coroner and the other volunteers up onto the highway. Then we needed a ride back to base camp and to our vehicle. After returning the SUV to the compound we finally picked up our own cars and headed for home. It was quiet as we drove through the foothills and the junipers. I finally dropped Mark off at his parents’ house.
“Sorry this call turned out for the worst,” I said.
“There’s nothing you could do to change that. I did manage to get some pictures although Landon is going to get on my case. He really wants to see if we can catch that morphing thing on film.”
I almost smiled and said, “Mark, it’s just a change in focus. Nothing is going to show up on film. If it does I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do except be really surprised. You didn’t take any pictures of Carl, did you?”
“No, I didn’t even go up there. But I did get some pictures of the reactions. You have my permission to take any pictures you don’t want printed. If something looks or feels too personal to you, simply take it. I don’t want to invade your privacy.”
“Thanks. It’s late and I need to get home.”
“Good night.”
I waited until he found his way inside and then drove home.
The house was dark when I arrived. Rusty hadn’t heard about the search or he would have stayed up. I left my pack in the Jeep and quietly let myself in. I went to the bedroom and undressed in the dark, then remembered that I’d been camping for two days so I started the shower and got in. I had a head full of shampoo when Rusty came in and sat on the counter naked, waiting for me. I sure wished I didn’t feel all jumbled up inside. Usually I invited him to join me, but emotionally I was still processing the aftermath of the search. He watched me quietly, an array of emotions crossing my face as I battled through the conflict in my mind. I rinsed off and without drying I went for my Rusty hug. I was so sad. Carl had been a little older than Rusty. His boys were five and seven. And he was gone… gone from their lives forever.
Rusty held me all wet, cold and depressed before wrapping me up in a towel. I dried off and then crawled into bed where I snuggled in close to Rusty, absorbing his comfort. He understood that I’d talk when I was able. He knew I was blaming myself but would get over it. It was pointless trying to convince me of anything until I worked through the emotions. How had I lived without him for so long? The only person who really understood me. The only person who unconditionally accepted and loved me anyway. How did I manage without him? It was hard to believe that we’d only been married four months.
“Oh, babe, it’s okay, shhh, you just need sleep. It’s so late. My dangerous tracker woman is back from the wilds,” he continued, allowing me to listen to his voice, letting the peaceful sound of it seep into me. I cried quietly, working my way to a calm place where I could relax enough to sleep and in the morning when I didn’t stir and he had to leave for work, he knew what a toll it had taken on me. The news was not good and he’d hear the basic story at work. Rusty would get off work and return home as soon as possible, well aware that I’d still be kicking myself.
It didn’t help when Carl’s story was splashed all over the news. “Trackers yesterday discovered the body of Carl Cranston just a few hundred feet from a nearby highway…” I was glad they hadn’t filmed me in amongst the rescue party. Victor and Landon were shown for a moment. Mark was there for a brief second, looking a lot like a shabbily dressed cameraman. As usual, the flashing lights and uniforms showed up to the public eye while the dirty, backpack laden searchers faded into the background. When Carl’s wife was shown I had to turn off the TV.
In the afternoon I tracked up into the hills. Shadow, my Shetland sheepdog with boundless energy, ran circles around me as I walked. I found the tracks of ground squirrels. They were short trails that ended at a hole in the ground at the base of a large juniper bush. Every so often I saw the squirrels sunning themselves in the sand, watching me pass by. I found deer tracks but already knew where they led and didn’t plan to track them any further. It was peaceful wandering the hills, focusing on the ground. I came across an old coyote trail and followed it a little ways just to be tracking, aware I’d never find the animal as the tracks were at least a day old. Determined to cook a homemade meal for Rusty I went home early and found myself looking forward to eating some of my own food, too. Backpacker food couldn’t take the place of real home cooking and I always returned from a search craving vegetables and sweets.
When Rusty came home stir-fry was sautéing in my big Texas skillet and the rice was cooking. I combined the sauce ingredients and then poured it all into the vegetables.
“A man came to the station looking for you today. I sent him to Strict. I didn’t think you wanted Carl Cranston’s family knocking on our door today. Did you watch the news?”
“Did you?” I asked him.
“Yeah, the guys called me in to watch it when they heard what the news announcement was about. I suspect you stopped watching about halfway through but you missed something.”
“What’s that?”
“You missed seeing the Cranston family thanking the mysterious search party who vanished at the sight of TV cameras.”
“Victor and Landon were both on the news. I did see the first part.”
“They were looking for you but thought they were looking for a man. Phillip Cranston was very surprised when he walked into the station and was sent to my office. He started thanking me for finding his son but I stopped him, turned the wedding picture around that sits on my desk and pointed to you. ‘This is the guy you’re looking for,’ I told him, ‘but she doesn’t like a lot of attention and prefers to remain invisible.’ He was shocked and sat on the chair in front of my desk. I told him how sorry I was about his son, that you felt it even more than me. We spent about half an hour talking about search and rescue, how a kid like you got into a job like that. He wanted to do something and I knew you didn’t want anything from him so I sent him to Strict. I figured if he wanted to give something he could give it to the organization. They can always use donations to help buy better equipment.”
“Good thinking. I wouldn’t have been up to talking to Cranston’s family today.”
“I just wish you were able to see the good in what you do. Grieving family members don’t track down the officers or volunteers involved unless they really care. It would have been so much easier for Phillip Cranston to sit back and do nothing but he wanted to thank you personally. That should tell you something.”