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Pair lost trail, then split up to find it
By Jim Fairchild
The Whitewater
Drainage originates from the very top of Mt. San
Gorgonio, 11,501' el., Southern California's
highest mountain. Four major forks descend
easterly and southeasterly, joining to make one
broad wash at about 4500' el. The Pacific Crest
Trail, the 2600 mile route from Mexico to Canada,
enters Whitewater Canyon where Interstate 10
crosses. The trail proceeds northward past the
Whitewater Fish Hatchery and two miles farther
north into a side canyon and over ridges into the
Mission Creek Drainage.
Kent and
Richard missed the PCT where it leaves Whitewater
Drainage. They split up to try and find it. They
stayed split. Richard realized the problem as he
hiked up the wash. He spent a day and a half
crossing and searching the area many times. Then
he hiked out and finally alerted the Sheriff at
the Banning Station.
RMRU arrived
at the hatchery and set up base. Sgt. Weakley
procured the San Bernardino Sheriff's Hughes 500C
helicopter just after the initial party of Dew
and Chambers left the hatchery to cover the first
part of the canyon. Kevin Walker and I were
dispatched into the field along with Richard, the
informant, to check the area of
"splitting" and try to establish a
direction for the lost Kent. Jim Garvey went with
three men in a 4WD machine from Hemet to check
the road that penetrates Whitewater from Mission
Creek, ending at Wathier Landing at about 4000'
el.
Kevin and I
searched the area, finding where Richard had
built a signal fire the first night they split.
Dew and Chambers joined us. Garvey reported the
subject's tracks in the wash near Wathier
Landing. We asked that Dew and Chambers be lifted
up there - they were. Kevin and I awaited our
turn; we wanted to check the Middle Fork to see
if Kent could have in some miraculous way managed
to get into the North Fork, or go over the
headwall of the Middle Fork. Both routes were
tricky, the headwall quite treacherous. We
finally, through Roland, the Operations Leader,
got a hold of the helicopter, but when it flew
over we heard the dismaying command,
"Continue hiking up the canyon." We
asked to be lifted into the Middle Fork two more
times, but got the same command each time.
Suffice it to say, we were miffed. Radio silence
prevailed until about 5 pm, when the machine
arrived and we were told the Sgt. had found
tracks up the Middle Fork. Dew, Chambers, Walker
and myself were soon up there following tracks up
the ever steepening canyon. The walls closed in,
enormous jumbles of boulders and recently
fractured bluffs rose close by. As the angle
increased, we encountered Class 4 scrambling up
active waterfalls. Dew stayed behind as relay. We
still had Kent's tracks, but lost them about 400'
below the top of the headwall. Long, steep,
constantly moving slides of sand and gravel made
it impossible to tell whether Kent took a side
chute to escape the direct route. We were now on
the tracks of a small black bear and a deer.
Kevin was above us, almost to the top, 8000', Don
Landells arrived in his powerful bird and plucked
us off that loose mess - just stuck one skid into
the matrix and held the machine as we clambered
aboard. Flying out we searched the Middle Fork's
upper reaches and were even further impressed by
its ruggedness.
Back at Base
we heard that a party from the 303rd ParaRescue
unit had found a single track west of the
headwall. Our hunch was right on.
The next morning, due to a mix-up,
we got airborne at 0900, instead of 0630. We flew
close search up the South Fork, then into the
East Fork. Kent later said we flew over him. His
clothes matched the canyon walls perfectly, and
we were going higher and faster at that point.
Kevin and I got out on a small peak south of the
Middle Fork headwall. We had just arrived where
the single track was marked when word came of
Kent's being spotted from Landells bird. We
hustled toward the area - about a half mile north
of where the East and South Forks join. A 303rd
party was hiking downstream on Kent's tracks and
was ten minutes away when he was spotted. The
difficult terrain caused quite a long delay in
getting him out.
Later, Hal
Fulkman and I were flown in by Don to retrieve
Kent's pack - he had tied it to a small tree
thirty feet below the headwall about three
hundred feet up from the pass itself. Of course,
he had absolutely nothing with him his last night
and day in the wilderness. But, being along
water, he survived.
The above is a
short summary of the story. I could write a book
on the mission to make it complete. But that's as
usual. Maybe someday well do just that on a
particularly long and difficult operation.
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