A Shout in the Dark

As a day of seemingly endless work in the kitchen was winding down it was time for a bath and a beer. I went out to reception to verify what needed to be prepared the following day. Much of the staff was standing around by the front desk in a panic. It was 9 pm and the girls who left for a day hike hadn’t been seen. They were due back around 5 and it was now well past sunset. Having been up the path they had gone up, I loaded my pack and went to see what the plan was. All that had been done so far was to go to the trailhead with lights and to do some shouting into the forest. Dissatisfied with the lack of effort, I went back up to reception to see if there was any news. Someone was already on the phone with the police, and it was decided that a search dog would be on its way momentarily.  Forced to wait an hour or so before the dogs arrived, I reloaded my pack a bit more efficiently and added a few things; warm clothes, some food, and a couple pairs of gloves. The police arrived first and I gave them a description of the area the four girls had gone to; really steep with a poorly defined path… I know. Great description right? When I went back to the staff room to grab my pack it was suddenly a lot heavier. Looking inside I found a pile of food, and a 5 liter jug of  hot liquid. The other staff had added a few things for when I found the girls. Annoyed, I said thanks but there is no way I am carrying a giant container of liquid up a mountain. Plus, it was doubtful that I would be the one to find them. I kept some of the food just in case though.

Two dogs arrived along with five search and rescue specialists. Apparently a helicopter was on its way as well. Four of the people stayed behind to get a lift to the top of the mountain with one dog while the other guy, Katsuya and I took the other dog up the mountain.

By this time the girls were over 7 hours past their planned return time and had been in the dark for nearly 5 hours. We knew they weren’t wearing appropriate clothing, had no source of light, and three of them were inexperienced hikers. The other is girl not so inexperienced, but is by no means a survival expert either.

Larry, Katsuya, Namu (the dog) and I hefted our packs and headed down to the river. Larry, the tracker, was already on the trail, spotting shoe prints in the soft soil. After fording the river, we walked through the tall wet grass until we got to the trailhead. Already I knew it would be a rough climb. The torch they gave me looked like one of those pseudo-lightsaber flashlights from Tomb Raider and it hardly lit the ground around me. Equipped with not but a failing torch and the camera light on my phone I followed Larry, expert tracker, up into the dark trees. From the dog’s actions we knew the girls had trouble finding the path from the start. Namu would head off the path a bit before returning to the path and continuing up. Larry told us this meant the girls had taken the same route before finding the correct path. This continued for the next hour. We followed the dog and tracker higher and higher up into the forest. As expected, the path was steep and slippery. To say Larry was fast would be an understatement. The man was a mountain goat. Though in his 50’s, he kept up a pace that few could match. Every time Katsuya and I would look up, Larry would be even farther up the path. Though it was a chilly night and Katsuya and I were bundled up, Larry was wearing a thin shirt and short shorts. Again, to say these shorts were short would be an understatement. Being downhill from these shorts was cause for a rather unpleasant sight. As we climbed higher and higher into the darkness and I was sweating through my pants, I began wishing I had a pair of these butt-shorts myself. 

Every couple minutes we would call out into the blackness.

HEEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOO…

Climbing and calling, sweating and slipping, higher and higher we climbed. I could hear Katsuya breathing heavily behind me. Neither of us could keep up the pace Larry was setting for much longer. Katsuya called out.

OOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYY…

That was when we heard it. A faint, high pitched, heeeeeeyyyyyyyy…

Katsuya and I immediately looked at each other. HHHHHEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOO….

Heeeeeeeeyyyyy….

Another moment of cognition, and we knew were both thinking the same thing. ‘Thank God. We wont have to climb any higher!!!’

“LARRY!! WE HEAR THEM!!” Pausing to relay the GPS coordinates through the radio, Larry told Katsuya to remain on the path and keep shouting to them while he and I left the track. We could hear girls calling a little ways away. They sounded like they were across, and possibly down hill. Larry and Namu led the way with me on their heels.

The path was steep with slippery rocks and moss. Where we were was treacherous. Hardly able to see with my failing light, I followed Larry and Namu deeper into the brush, the sound of the girls and Katsuya’s yells echoing over us. I called out to the girls and got the reply, “Don’t come over here!! Its too dangerous!!” I translated for Larry and we agreed, regardless of the terrain, we had to get to them. Through the darkness we crawled down through roots of fallen trees, slipping on moss and crumbling rocks. We called down to them, telling them to move away from directly below our lights, so as not to be hit by rocks we might be knocking loose. All that came back was, “We cant…” Confused, Larry and I kept descending. The hill became so steep and unstable that even Namu (who it turned out was the #1 search dog in New Zealand) couldn’t continue on. Namu’s cries joined Katsuya’s and the girls’. She obviously wanted to keep going. We were slowly lowering ourselves from small tree trunk to tree trunk. Larry slipped and dropped his flashlight. As he clung to the trunk of a small tree, we watched it tumble down into the darkness. Suddenly it was no longer tumbling. It was falling. A couple seconds later, we heard a sharp squeel as the torch landed directly on the head of one of the girls. That was when we realized why they had said it was too dangerous. Larry and I were next to each other and what we had previously though was the hill extending in front of us was not what it seemed to be. A few feet ahead of us, the steep hill became quite a bit steeper. We managed to lower ourselves a little further before being forced to stop. The dirt and moss was no longer there. My foothold was the final small tree above a sheer drop. I couldn’t move to either side and Larry was above me. It was so steep that though he was standing next to me his shoe was inches from my face. Practically hanging from the tree above and standing on one foot, I maneuvered myself around so I could point Larry’s back up light down the rock face. Thirty feet directly below me I could see the girls. We had found them. They were in a small pocket of rock. Luckily none of them were hurt. Apparently they had been unable to find the correct path down and ended up coming down a dry riverbed. (Not unlike the one from my previous post) Pushing through my fear of heights, I clung to the tree above while Larry radioed the chopper. We had heard them flying low over the mountain with their spotlights. We had determined there was no way to get to them or walk them out. Just as I’d been hoping for from the start… It was time to bring in the winch.

Larry and I clung to the thin trees. I was standing one-footed on a small outcrop mostly made of moss. The more I moved my quickly numbing foot, the more the moss would crumble. Gradually I swung my pack around on the hip straps. I dug out two sweaters, some gloves and a small blanket and tossed them down to the girls below. They had left before lunchtime and as it was past 1 am, they had to be hungry. I showered them with bundles of pizza that the other staff had packed.

Finally the heli and their night vision found our lights and proceeded to lower a man down to the girls. Larry and I still precariously clinging to the wall above them were caught in the downwash from the helicopter’s rotor blades. Blinding lights illuminated the rock face and tremendous gusts of chilled night air shook our handholds violently. Not a pleasant feeling. The girls were winched up two at a time, rapidly spinning as they rose above the treetops. I figured this was my chance. I called down to the rescue guy. “So I’m next right??” Completely forgetting my fear of heights, I wanted nothing more than to get winched up through the trees in a midnight rescue op.

However, it was to remain but a dream. Maybe next time… Tonight, we were hiking out… Larry and I waited for the rescue guy to get hoisted up before turning back. This is when it got scary. My foothold was finally giving way. Larry had to move higher before I could move. I don’t know how we made it down so easily, but the trek back up was not so simple. The entire hillside was made up of moss and crumbling roots. My pack kept getting caught, my feet fell through roots, my face was constantly pressed into the dirt and moss to hold me in place, I was soaked from the waist down, and I was fully aware of my fate should any of my foot or handholds give way. Larry, Namu and I finally managed to scramble back up to the path. Sliding down the track, again at Larry and Namu’s mind-bending speed, and crossing the river, we made it back to Maruia at last. I emptied my boots, changed into dry pants and waved the heli away.

Finally, everybody is home safe and warm.

Time for that bath and beer.

Namu, standing between my legs while Larry relays GPS coordinates

 Helicopter finds the girls. 

 To the rescue!

The girls are about 30 feet below me.