“help…”
It seemed odd to say the least, but was convincing enough that I ruled out the sound coming from my headphones and paused the music as I crested the ridge. On the other side of the ridge was a steep descent into a ravine. At the bottom of the ravine was a brand new Specialized Rockhopper mountain bike and just beyond it lay a man in the middle of the trail.
The Christmas Day Run
It was Christmas Day 2023. I needed to get a six hour run in according to my training schedule. With the kids grown and on their own, Christmas Day was not nearly the mad house it used to be. As a kid growing up, we always made a significant effort to be with family on Christmas Day. This usually meant a six to eight hour drive in the car to start the holiday. The holiday wasn’t complete until the whole family was pissed off at each other and fighting, followed by the long car ride home.
McDowell Mountain Regional Park is nestled between Scottsdale, Fountain Hills, and the Fort McDowell Yavapi Nation Reservation just east of the Phoenix, Arizona metropolitan area. It covers over 21,000 acres in the desert along with over 50 miles of trails for hiking, biking, horses, and of course: running. It’s common to see javelina, snakes, jack rabbits, coyotes, and my favorites: the ravens. The trails are flat to rolling but on the western side, the mountains range up to 4,000 feet if you feel the need to add some elevation. Make no mistake about it, while the park is close to civilization, the desert is unforgiving, the number of humans is low, and you need to be prepared to take care of yourself in the event of an emergency. This means being prepared for cold nights and warm afternoons during the winter, blistering heat in the summer, and high winds with heavy rains during the monsoon season. Caveat emptor.
The weather was a typical Christmas Day for the desert: brisk and mid-40s early in the morning with a high temperature somewhere in the 70s. (For those who had not previously made the connection, this is why people move to Arizona.) There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the sun was just beginning to rise when I climbed out of the truck, laced up my shoes and headed out onto the trail. About 3 miles into the run, I was settling into my groove. The aches and pains from training were beginning to ease and my body and mind were coming to terms that no amount of bitching was going to change today’s mission.
Or so I thought.
A Cry for Help
The trail was much more technical than I anticipated. In hindsight, it made sense since this was primarily targeting mountain bikers. The whoop-dee-doos, switchbacks, steep climbs, and even steeper descents would have been a challenging blast on two wheels. I ran up the side of a ridge, ready to crest the top and begin the descent. It was not a steep ridge, maybe 50 feet high but it looked like there was just enough of a lip on the top of it to catch a little air before dropping down the back of it for anyone riding this trail on a mountain bike. As my phone switched from one song to the next, I thought I heard very faintly
“help…”
It seemed odd to say the least, but was convincing enough that I ruled out the sound coming from my headphones and paused the music as I crested the ridge. On the other side of the ridge was a steep descent into a ravine. At the bottom of the ravine was a brand new Specialized Rockhopper mountain bike and just beyond it lay a man in the middle of the trail. He was face down with one arm pinned under his body, the other sprawled out to the side. He saw me from the corner of his eyes as I descended toward him. “I crashed my bike and I can’t feel my legs” was all he said.
The Rescue Begins
I don’t have official medical training, but have studied just enough to feel comfortable spending time in the wilderness. After many years in the wilderness on various adventures, I learned one lesson. It’s a lesson I tried hard to communicate to my kids. The question is never “can I make that jump?”, or “have I got enough speed?”. The question is always “what position am I putting my friends in if I’m wrong”? The best case scenario when wrong is you die quickly. Your friends can mark the location of your body and send authorities back later. The worst case scenario is sustaining life-threatening injuries. Now you’ve just tasked your friends with the responsibility of getting your dumb ass somewhere to receive medical attention and saving your life. Usually, this means they now have to put their lives in danger as well by taking on additional work, compressed timelines, increased risk, and exposure to elements they weren’t prepared to deal with.
Internally, I was pretty sure this guy was fucked. No one would have laid here this long if they had a choice. Even if something were just broken, you can get out of harms way. This guy couldn’t even do that. Regardless, I put on the most cheerful voice I could muster and said “Hey! My name is Will. I got you. I will be here with you until we get you to safety.” I knew I couldn’t give him false hope, but also knew he probably needed some level of reassurance to hang on to. Not leaving him alone was all I could offer. His name was Chris. He was out for a morning ride before celebrating Christmas with his family. Fortunately, I had cell phone service while standing there in the basin and I dialed 911. I knew getting him out was not going to be easy. I knew roughly where we were, but that’s not quite the same as knowing the exact location when time and details matter.
If you’ve ever spent much time riding a mountain bike, you’ll know the exact sound of the chain slapping the frame when you shift gears while pedaling. That’s why my heart stopped when I heard that sound while talking to the 911 operator. Someone was riding up the other side of the ridge, shifting gears, and within seconds would be dropping down right on top of us. Chris was laying in the middle of the trail. I couldn’t move him for safety reasons. When the rider saw us below, he or she would react but likely it would not be enough. I was about to end up with more casualties on the scene. I started screaming at the top of my lungs “STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!” The now confused 911 operator asks “What’s happening?” I didn’t respond to her and did the only thing I could think of to do, I started running toward the top of the ridge with the intent of putting myself between the newcomer on the scene and Chris.
Call it fate, divine intervention, or most likely: just plain dumb luck, but in any case, the rider heard my shouts and was able to stop his bike just as the front tire rolled over the top of the ridge. His riding partner for the day was hot on his trail and while less graceful, managed to completely stop as well. We somehow managed to keep a shitty situation from getting worse.
I returned my attention to the 911 operator. I gave her the details and she provided me with some advice on how to keep Chris comfortable, safe, and as relaxed as possible. She dispatched the local sheriff’s department and EMTs to the scene, but it was going to take them time to get out here, and even longer to locate us in the desert. Meanwhile, I positioned the two mountain bikers at the top of the ridge on each side of the ravine to ensure we didn’t have any more surprise visitors. The 911 operator asked about the battery life on my phone. It was fully charged. I knew enough to know that it would be my lifeline out here for just such events. Her final words were “Ok, we’ve got help on the way, but I need you to answer any call that comes in to your phone, ok? Even if it’s a number you don’t recognize, I need you to answer it. Got it?”
I laughed. Got it.
I knew she was thinking of the story of the Colorado hiker who was lost in the woods for 24 hours in 2021. Search and Rescue teams tried to call the hiker repeatedly, but the hiker refused to answer because they didn’t recognize the number. Emergency Services is no easy job, even if you’re just the poor soul answering the phone.
I relayed everything to Chris. His headphones were still blaring Linkin Park. I fished his phone out of his jacket, stopped the music, and got him some water. He managed to stay calm though reality was setting in and he was starting to regret his choices for the day. I couldn’t imagine the thoughts going through his mind. I knew what was going through mine. “How bad is this?” “How long until we can get medical attention?” “What is the rest of his life going to look like?” I did my best to help him keep those thoughts at bay, mostly with bad jokes and a deplorable sense of humor. He finally decided he should call his wife. This seemed like a good idea, so I dialed the number on his phone and handed it to him.
“Hey, I crashed my bike and I can’t feel my legs.”
There is no great way to have this conversation with a loved one, but honestly I can’t think of a worse way to handle it. We’re in the middle of the desert, we have a plan underway but no ETA. Oh, and we have no medical analysis of how serious this is. And now let’s add stress and hysteria to your wife. In hindsight, I should have coached him on what to say. Maybe something like “hey, so I crashed and there are some guys here helping me cleanup and get out of here, I’ll let you know when we’re closer to civilization.” We all know she’s going to ask follow up questions and will end up with the full story anyway, but this method drops it in small, digestible doses.
I could hear her sobbing as he hung up. Her panic and fear were justified as none of us knew anything of reassurance to tell her. I hoped that talking to someone with him might give her some comfort and reassurance. It wouldn’t be medical advice, but at least she would know the sound of the voice of the man tasked with getting her husband to safety, so I asked Chris if he minded if I called her. He gave me her number and I dialed it.
“Hello?” It was Chris’ wife on the other side.
“Hey, this is Will Button. I’m out here with your husband, Chris. I know you just spoke with him but I wanted to let you know who the guy is that will be with him until we get him medical attention.”
“Oh my god, thank you!”
She started crying.
“It’s going to be ok. I’ve already been in contact with 911 and they have crews on the way. He’s not in pain and he’s not going to be alone.”
“You’re a life saver, thank you for being there.”
“No, I’m just some dumbass who happened to be running through the desert, but I’m happy I’m able to help.”
Despite not wanting to, I thought I could hear just the tip of a smile as she said “thank you either way.”
“You’re welcome. As soon as I have updates, I’ll call you from this number and please feel free to call it anytime if you want an update or more information.”
I hung up and checked in on Chris again. “Hey Chris, I wasn’t prepared for this Christmas get together so I didn’t get you a present, but I have some water if you’d like some?” He was uncomfortable but that was to be expected. There are a lot of ways to lay on the ground but none of those resembled the state his body was in. Unfortunately, we couldn’t move him without knowing more about how and where he was injured, so we had to ride it out. (See? I told you. Stupid jokes and a poor sense of humor.)
Finally, my phone rang. It was the EMT crew. They confirmed the trail we were on, and this trail had no vehicle access points, though there was an old 4×4 trail that looked like it might eventually get close to us. They were off to investigate and would be in touch.
More time passes.
Another phone call. This time the fire department. They set off their siren to see if I could hear it. Finally, I heard a distant siren, but due to the sound echoing off the mountains and canyons, I couldn’t tell where it came from.
More time passes.
This time it’s the sheriff’s department. I wonder briefly if they don’t bother sharing information with each other or if they can’t avoid asking the same questions again.
More time passes.
This time it’s the 911 operator. She’s got a chopper in the air heading our way. I let her know that while we were in a ravine, I had two guys staked out on the ridges that could watch for the chopper. Once we saw it, we were to call 911 again to confirm sighting and coordinate touchdown.
More time passes.
Air Rescue Arrives
Another call from the 911 operator. She relayed questions about our location from the chopper pilot and as I answered them, I realized he was in the wrong spot. From what I could tell, he was on the opposite side of the highway scouting over the reservation. After communicating this, the chopper pilot changed course. After a few minutes, I could hear rotors. They were far away, but I could hear them. I shared this with the 911 operator and while I still couldn’t tell where the chopper was, we were hoping that we’d get a visual soon. Finally, off in the distance, we spotted a chopper silhouetted against the sun to the east. I asked the 911 operator if she still had contact with the pilot. She confirmed she did. I told her I was about to ask him to make a hard right. When I do so, he will be on a direct line to us.
“Now!”
Within seconds, I see the chopper turn directly towards us. I notified the guys on the ridges to make themselves visible, by any means possible. They did not disappoint. Pasty white guys waving their shirts in the air stands out against the browns and tans of the desert. Finally, we got the words we had been waiting hours to hear, “the pilot has confirmed he has visual”. The 911 operator told me to stay low while he lands and ended the call. I told Chris they were almost here, I just needed him to be patient and hang out with me just a bit longer.
I was convinced there was no place nearby to set a chopper down. When the pilot circled just over the top of us and waved, I assumed it was just acknowledgement that he knew where we were while he found a suitable parking spot. Nope. That friendly wave was just killing time as he swung the ass end of the chopper around and sat down right on top of the ridge. As he came down for the landing, I carefully leaned over Chris to protect him from the flying dirt and debris. When I heard the engine shut off, I looked up and saw a chopper parked perfectly on top of the ridge. One of the hallmarks of experienced pilots is an excellent sense of scale and knowing exactly how much room they need to land. As it sat, the mountain bike trail led right up to the bay doors on the side. This was clearly not the pilot’s first day on the job.
A tall, lanky man with a grey beard climbed out of the cockpit and sauntered to us. His smile and demeanor seemed to indicate that any landing performed while not being shot at was an easy landing. Almost boring, one might say. He performed a quick check on Chris as two paramedics unloaded the stretcher and equipment needed. Once they had finished their evaluation, they called us over. “We have to straighten him out and get him on the stretcher. We can do it alone but we’d prefer to have your help if you are available.” I laughed and said “I have nowhere else to go, I’m in.” They spent the next few minutes putting various braces and straps around his neck, back, and arms. Once completed, we laid the stretcher alongside him, then rolled him onto it. He still wasn’t in a good position to be strapped down for the ride out, so next we put four people running down his body to support his head, back, hips, and legs.
“On the count of three, we’re going to lift him up, center his body over the stretcher and set him back down. Any questions?” asked the Captain. Hearing no questions, he gave the countdown and we did as requested. He then asked Chris how he was doing. Chris responded “no pain, but I don’t think that’s a good thing at this point.” The Captain replied “it’s good enough, let’s get you out of here”. They lifted the stretcher and headed up the trail. As if the whole thing had been planned all along, they walked right up the trail and into the chopper. After a few minutes, the engines fired up and the chopper started to rise. I turned away to avoid getting a desert-dirt facial. As the dirt and wind started to settle, I looked to see the chopper hauling ass toward the horizon. That’s when I noticed one of the paramedics still standing there. I asked her “did they forget something?” She laughed and replied “no room. Captain will set down in the parking lot, there’s an ambulance waiting there, then he’ll come back and get me.”
While we waited, I learned she was actually in the Air Force stationed at Luke Air Force Base. She was routinely assigned to Maricopa County Air Rescue to get additional flight hours. After a few more minutes, the chopper returned and the pilot sat it down on the same ridge. The pilot once again came out and noticed Chris’ mountain bike, still on the trail. I offered to ride the bike out and call Chris’ wife to arrange for picking it up. “No need” replied the Captain, “I’ve got plenty of room”. He grabbed the bike and loaded into the chopper, along with the remaining medical gear and his crew. I thought back to Chris’ wife and asked the pilot “do you know which hospital they are taking him to? I need to notify his wife, he gave me her number.” He told me the name of the hospital and I called his wife.
She answered the phone with a hesitant “hello?” I said “Hey, this is Will. We spoke earlier about your husband. I wanted to let you know we’ve gotten him airlifted out and he’s in an ambulance on his way to Honor Health in Scottsdale. Head to the ER and they should be able to direct you from there. He’s in good spirits and is in good hands.” She thanked me and as she did, I could hear the tears and sobbing break through. I wasn’t sure if she would be in a condition to drive, so I asked “do you have someone who can drive you there?” “Yes, my brother is here. He’s ready to drive, we have just been waiting to know where.” I wished her the best and hung up. I had a feeling her entire family was going to need it on this Christmas Day.
Lessons Learned
As the chopper fired back up, I shook hands and exchanged contact info with the two mountain bikers who stopped to help. None of us had anticipated anything like this for a Christmas Day trek. I was grateful for their help. Without them, this could have turned out much worse. They checked multiple times to ensure I had plenty of water and snacks to get back to my truck. I assured them I did and was just as eager as they were to avoid any additional difficulties for the day! Finally, after another round of handshakes and emotional bonding that can’t be expressed with words, they were on their way.
I sat there for a few minutes to reflect. We had been out here for hours and aside from me and two rogue mountain bikers, we hadn’t seen a soul. If I hadn’t come along, how much worse would it have been if they had dropped into the ravine without warning? If none of us had come along, how long would Chris have been out here before getting help? The wilderness is beautiful, breathtaking, and inspiring, but make no mistake about it: it gives zero fucks about you.
I realized I had no idea how long I had been running when this whole scenario started. I decided my six hour run starts now. I sent a text to my wife:
Came across a mountain biker with some problems. Got delayed helping him out. Starting my run now, be home later.
Love you.
I pulled my earbuds out of my pocket, looked at them briefly then tucked them back in my pocket. I haven’t ran outdoors with them since. As I started jogging down the trail, the chopper came by one last time on its way back to the city. I couldn’t see inside, but looked up and gave a friendly wave anyway before returning my gaze to the hard-packed desert floor passing beneath my feet. For the rest of the day, I continued to think about how this family’s life had changed forever on Christmas Day. I wondered about my own feelings about Christmas.
And the Will, with his grinch-feet pounding the desert floor,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?”
“It came with out ribbons! It came without tags!”
“It came without packages, boxes or bags!”
And he puzzled six hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Will thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.”
“Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”
And what happened then? Well…the desert ravens do say,
That the Will’s small heart Grew three sizes that day!
I kept in touch with Chris’ wife for a few weeks after that. All signs were indicating he will be permanently paralyzed for the rest of his life. It was (and probably still is) a stressful time for them. I eventually stopped calling because I didn’t want to be that guy who just kept calling for more bad news.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading. If you feel motivated, please consider donating time or money to your local search and rescue organizations. It will help more than you can ever imagine.