You might think I have developed a penchant for attending rescue courses. I think you might be right. I hope it doesn't grow to become a full-time hobby. Besides being expensive it doesn't leave me any time to actually go caving, and risk needing to be rescued or attempt rescuing anyone else. This last one was a personal-rescue focussed one vis a vis the team-effort type rescue as was the last.
The training had originally been set down for a full two days. After a time emails began suggesting that the course material could be covered off in less time. When an email came in a few days before the course announcing that all of the course material would be covered in one day, I rather suspected we were on a downward-trending slope coated generously with a Teflon-type product. As it transpired this was fairly much the case and as the first day progressed so to did the pace of the instructing until we peaked soon after lunch at just short of the speed of light.
That being said we did at least start off at a good pace. We touched briefly on knots, gear placement and gear type. Instructor Sir did an excellent job of explaining why he carried what he did without making it appear necessary to exactly follow suit. Rather to simply understand what our own gear might or might not be capable of being used for in a rescue situation. We then practiced basic SRT (Single Rope Technique) and mid-rope change-overs as a foundation. I would have said I thought I was reasonably proficient in SRT (despite only having something less than a 1,000 vertical metres under my belt!), but I have to say I learned a lot in those few minutes.
Upon this we built the first of an excellent if somewhat mind-bendingly complicated rescue protocol. Starting with the 'Pick-off' (or was it 'Pick-up'?) rescue. The scenario being thus: a caver is ascending the rope ahead of you before becoming inconveniently unconscious for no adequately explored reason and immediately prior to a planned smoko break. You (or me if we're unlucky) are then set the daunting task of ascending the same rope underneath the 'patient', performing a series of Herculean/Houdinian change-over manoeuvres, breathing numerous magic incantations, crossing fingers and toes and then lowering the two of you safely back to ground in time for a really strong cup of tea and a freshly baked crumpets with lashings of something unconscionably sweet and yummy. At least that's I what remember being said.
Now, this is not a rescue instructional article so you may not take what I'm about to say as true, accurate or even mildly interesting. My recollection however, is that having ascended to the patient you attach yourself via your short cowstail to their D-ring and then proceed to detach your Kroll and hand ascender. That at least is easy, if ever so slightly disconcerting dangling there by a thread off of another's loin cloth. Then by fair means or foul you rig a rope (what rope and where this rope comes from is a whole other topic), from the upper attachment point of their Kroll through a biner attached to their hand ascender and back down through your Kroll. This sets up a counter-balance situation. In simultaneously lowering yourself and raising the patient (a knee under their buttocks is amusingly effective) you are then able to take the pressure off their Kroll and so release it. Next, install their rack as high as possible along the rope, lock it off, then reverse the counter-balance movement lowering them onto their rack. If you've said your prayers in the correct order and the relevant planets are in optimal alignment you will then still have sufficient slack in the patient's hand ascender lines to enable you to release it. Thus leaving you both swinging on a star, I mean rack (brake-bar descender). A flick of the wrist releases the lock whilst leaving an extra turn on the rack for friction and subsequently floats you both once more to the terra firma.
Easy huh? What could go wrong? Very little, excepting everything. Some of the larger (and more painful) things are as follows.
* Before ascending the rope under your patient, ensure that you bring the rope round from in between their legs to the side of them. I don't imagine that I need to explain why this so, so, so important.
* The length of your short cowstail is also incredibly important. My rescuer's was about 50mm too long and it rendered the procedure impossible - at least in the conventional sense. To overcome this hurdle my rescuer climbed on top of me until she sat straddled over my lap from whence she could and did continue. This position has little to recommend it, as it is awkward to achieve even under ideal circumstances and less so when your patient is then in hysterics as I was.
* Counter-balancing a larger person with a smaller one is fun to watch but rather more problematic to achieve. But it was surprising how much of weight/mass differential could be overcome with a little cunning.
* Releasing the patient's Kroll is very fiddly and takes a good deal of precision on the part of the rescuer. Likewise the final release of the patient's hand ascender is a moment of surgical accuracy. If you've got the counter-balancing right then it can all work smoothly and simply, if not it is liable to not work at all.
* Whilst I was first being patient both my legs went quite suddenly and painfully to sleep. My rescuer was hardly half way through the rescue process and by the time I hit the deck I had become so immobilised that I had to lie there for a medium-lengthed eternity before I could begin moving again.
* Just as bringing the rope to the side of the patient from in between their legs is, shall we say, delicately critical, so too if and when you choose to 'borrow' the patient's foot-loop it is polite, humane, compassionate even to relocate it to a non-fatal zone. I failed to do this and couldn't for the life of me see why my patient started screaming blue murder as I stood in their foot-loop in order to release the next piece of gear. More unfortunately for them, it took a minute or two to summons our instructor. Thus.
'Sir, sir oh please sir', squeaks I, standing in this handy foot-loop that I've located, 'we need some assistance over here sir!'
'Screams', my patient.
'Urgent assistance required sir', blithely continues I wriggly round to try and catch sir's eye, 'my patient is having a problem I think but I can't see what it appears to be.'
'Blood-curdling screams', my patient.
'Oh please sir, can the other non-screaming students wait a moment while you help us?' Reaching a little higher on my tippy toes to emphasis my plea to sir.
'I'll-never-be-the-same-again-screams', my patient.
'Thank goodness you've arrived sir', sighs I resting my full weight in the hapless foot-loop to get to eye-level with sir, 'I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing wrong, sir.'
'Save me from my rescuer!' Pleads my weakened and distraught patient.
Of course it didn't take long to remedy her plight if not alleviate the distress inflicted and for me to start to feel very embarrassed indeed.
Ouch.
After torturing ourselves in this manner for an hour or two we stopped for a cuppa. After which, as I mentioned earlier, instruction went into hyper-mode and covered off another 4 or 50 rescue types and systems in a matter of about a minute although I seem to recall it being slightly less. While we had still some time in order to practice these other modes, quite frankly I could barely remember the last one we were shown, let alone all of them or indeed how many options there ever had been in the first place. My very dim recollection is that they related primarily to rescuing from above rather than below and to assisting a still-conscious but completely knackered caver in their ascent of the rope to the awaiting freshly brewed teapot and stack of hot-buttered crumpets. Something like that anyway.
There were taut lines that needed breaking, pulleys of various flavours, Prussiks in the usual array of colours, a selection of MA ratios and talk of using a pair of scissors for cutting the rope!! The latter of which I thought I could kind of see what they meant but for safety's sake I'm leaving my scissors at home for now, just in case I didn't quite get the whole story, and let's be honest, we both know I didn't - not even close.
My head was more than just a little fuzzy by now, so when another caver requested a patient I volunteered again, figured (finally) a sustainable means of dangling mid-air in a caving harness for extended periods of time without my legs becoming limp lumps of offending leaden agony and then proceeded to dangle about for some 20 minutes whilst a squeaking, complaining pulley sought desperately to haul me heavenward. Well, the rain had cleared and the sun was attempting weakly to show its face through the clouds so what better thing to do than lie back and put my feet up. Which incidentally is how you stop your legs going to sleep and hurting like crazy.
What I haven't told you is how the morning started. I had gone up to the NSG hut on the Friday night ahead of the course commencing 9:00am Saturday. When I fell out of the van sometime a little before 8:00am I was pleasantly surprised to find a number of other cavers a) on site and b) out of bed also. However on speaking to couple of them it suddenly became apparent that none of them were here for the rescue course but were in fact 'just' caving. Like whatever, right?!
Sure enough a short while later they all vacated the property. Happily they were soon replaced by another group of likely looking individuals. On speaking to this lot I was informed that they also were not here for the rescue course, but rather to set up for the NSG mid-winter Christmas Party to be held that very evening. Well, I don't mind admitting that I began to second guess myself at this point as to whether I had arrived on the correct day or not! I had heard nothing of the solstice feast and felt more than a little like an impudent gate-crasher.
9:00am came and went and no-one else appeared, I tried to appear nonchalant, hip, studious and otherwise engaged whilst neither caving nor applying the pig to the spit as the others were or had been doing. Roll on 9:30am and the sound of more cars revived my sagging resolve that anything might happen. Sure enough a gaggle of still more cavers began to arrive and Yes! they were here to attend a rescue course.
So now jump forward to the end of the day. The rescue course attendees are tired and hungry, the 'real' cavers make a re-appearance and Lo! the NSG culinary angels drew, seemingly from nowhere, vast dishes heavy-laden with an enormous variety of delicious food. As the evening warmed up still more food and beverage came streaming in with others who arrived later. Santa's little helper materialised in an ethereal-vision of lace, body-hugging undergarments and talc powder just in time to distribute gifts to one and gate-crashers all. Marvellous.
Next morning ('morning' - yes, 'early' - no) the 'real' cavers (now including our instructor) vanished once more just to go caving and the remnant set about tidying up after last night, blew up some rocks (that's how they roll at the NSG) and I amused people by offering to wash the club hut windows - there being little else I could usefully assist with.
Just as I finding my car keys and saying farewell it was decided to unlock the SRT tower and practice a little more. I probably should have stayed, heaven knows I could use the practice but I didn't. Here's hoping I don't ever need any of those skills for real...
 |
| Keen rescuers all |
The training had originally been set down for a full two days. After a time emails began suggesting that the course material could be covered off in less time. When an email came in a few days before the course announcing that all of the course material would be covered in one day, I rather suspected we were on a downward-trending slope coated generously with a Teflon-type product. As it transpired this was fairly much the case and as the first day progressed so to did the pace of the instructing until we peaked soon after lunch at just short of the speed of light.
That being said we did at least start off at a good pace. We touched briefly on knots, gear placement and gear type. Instructor Sir did an excellent job of explaining why he carried what he did without making it appear necessary to exactly follow suit. Rather to simply understand what our own gear might or might not be capable of being used for in a rescue situation. We then practiced basic SRT (Single Rope Technique) and mid-rope change-overs as a foundation. I would have said I thought I was reasonably proficient in SRT (despite only having something less than a 1,000 vertical metres under my belt!), but I have to say I learned a lot in those few minutes.
Upon this we built the first of an excellent if somewhat mind-bendingly complicated rescue protocol. Starting with the 'Pick-off' (or was it 'Pick-up'?) rescue. The scenario being thus: a caver is ascending the rope ahead of you before becoming inconveniently unconscious for no adequately explored reason and immediately prior to a planned smoko break. You (or me if we're unlucky) are then set the daunting task of ascending the same rope underneath the 'patient', performing a series of Herculean/Houdinian change-over manoeuvres, breathing numerous magic incantations, crossing fingers and toes and then lowering the two of you safely back to ground in time for a really strong cup of tea and a freshly baked crumpets with lashings of something unconscionably sweet and yummy. At least that's I what remember being said.
 |
| Passing a knot! |
 |
| Mid-rope change over |
Easy huh? What could go wrong? Very little, excepting everything. Some of the larger (and more painful) things are as follows.
* Before ascending the rope under your patient, ensure that you bring the rope round from in between their legs to the side of them. I don't imagine that I need to explain why this so, so, so important.
* The length of your short cowstail is also incredibly important. My rescuer's was about 50mm too long and it rendered the procedure impossible - at least in the conventional sense. To overcome this hurdle my rescuer climbed on top of me until she sat straddled over my lap from whence she could and did continue. This position has little to recommend it, as it is awkward to achieve even under ideal circumstances and less so when your patient is then in hysterics as I was.
* Counter-balancing a larger person with a smaller one is fun to watch but rather more problematic to achieve. But it was surprising how much of weight/mass differential could be overcome with a little cunning.
* Releasing the patient's Kroll is very fiddly and takes a good deal of precision on the part of the rescuer. Likewise the final release of the patient's hand ascender is a moment of surgical accuracy. If you've got the counter-balancing right then it can all work smoothly and simply, if not it is liable to not work at all.
* Whilst I was first being patient both my legs went quite suddenly and painfully to sleep. My rescuer was hardly half way through the rescue process and by the time I hit the deck I had become so immobilised that I had to lie there for a medium-lengthed eternity before I could begin moving again.
* Just as bringing the rope to the side of the patient from in between their legs is, shall we say, delicately critical, so too if and when you choose to 'borrow' the patient's foot-loop it is polite, humane, compassionate even to relocate it to a non-fatal zone. I failed to do this and couldn't for the life of me see why my patient started screaming blue murder as I stood in their foot-loop in order to release the next piece of gear. More unfortunately for them, it took a minute or two to summons our instructor. Thus.
'Screams', my patient.
'Urgent assistance required sir', blithely continues I wriggly round to try and catch sir's eye, 'my patient is having a problem I think but I can't see what it appears to be.'
'Blood-curdling screams', my patient.
'Oh please sir, can the other non-screaming students wait a moment while you help us?' Reaching a little higher on my tippy toes to emphasis my plea to sir.
'I'll-never-be-the-same-again-screams', my patient.
'Thank goodness you've arrived sir', sighs I resting my full weight in the hapless foot-loop to get to eye-level with sir, 'I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing wrong, sir.'
'Save me from my rescuer!' Pleads my weakened and distraught patient.
Of course it didn't take long to remedy her plight if not alleviate the distress inflicted and for me to start to feel very embarrassed indeed.
Ouch.
 |
| Recovery Mode |
After torturing ourselves in this manner for an hour or two we stopped for a cuppa. After which, as I mentioned earlier, instruction went into hyper-mode and covered off another 4 or 50 rescue types and systems in a matter of about a minute although I seem to recall it being slightly less. While we had still some time in order to practice these other modes, quite frankly I could barely remember the last one we were shown, let alone all of them or indeed how many options there ever had been in the first place. My very dim recollection is that they related primarily to rescuing from above rather than below and to assisting a still-conscious but completely knackered caver in their ascent of the rope to the awaiting freshly brewed teapot and stack of hot-buttered crumpets. Something like that anyway.
There were taut lines that needed breaking, pulleys of various flavours, Prussiks in the usual array of colours, a selection of MA ratios and talk of using a pair of scissors for cutting the rope!! The latter of which I thought I could kind of see what they meant but for safety's sake I'm leaving my scissors at home for now, just in case I didn't quite get the whole story, and let's be honest, we both know I didn't - not even close.
My head was more than just a little fuzzy by now, so when another caver requested a patient I volunteered again, figured (finally) a sustainable means of dangling mid-air in a caving harness for extended periods of time without my legs becoming limp lumps of offending leaden agony and then proceeded to dangle about for some 20 minutes whilst a squeaking, complaining pulley sought desperately to haul me heavenward. Well, the rain had cleared and the sun was attempting weakly to show its face through the clouds so what better thing to do than lie back and put my feet up. Which incidentally is how you stop your legs going to sleep and hurting like crazy.
What I haven't told you is how the morning started. I had gone up to the NSG hut on the Friday night ahead of the course commencing 9:00am Saturday. When I fell out of the van sometime a little before 8:00am I was pleasantly surprised to find a number of other cavers a) on site and b) out of bed also. However on speaking to couple of them it suddenly became apparent that none of them were here for the rescue course but were in fact 'just' caving. Like whatever, right?!
Sure enough a short while later they all vacated the property. Happily they were soon replaced by another group of likely looking individuals. On speaking to this lot I was informed that they also were not here for the rescue course, but rather to set up for the NSG mid-winter Christmas Party to be held that very evening. Well, I don't mind admitting that I began to second guess myself at this point as to whether I had arrived on the correct day or not! I had heard nothing of the solstice feast and felt more than a little like an impudent gate-crasher.
9:00am came and went and no-one else appeared, I tried to appear nonchalant, hip, studious and otherwise engaged whilst neither caving nor applying the pig to the spit as the others were or had been doing. Roll on 9:30am and the sound of more cars revived my sagging resolve that anything might happen. Sure enough a gaggle of still more cavers began to arrive and Yes! they were here to attend a rescue course.
So now jump forward to the end of the day. The rescue course attendees are tired and hungry, the 'real' cavers make a re-appearance and Lo! the NSG culinary angels drew, seemingly from nowhere, vast dishes heavy-laden with an enormous variety of delicious food. As the evening warmed up still more food and beverage came streaming in with others who arrived later. Santa's little helper materialised in an ethereal-vision of lace, body-hugging undergarments and talc powder just in time to distribute gifts to one and gate-crashers all. Marvellous.
Next morning ('morning' - yes, 'early' - no) the 'real' cavers (now including our instructor) vanished once more just to go caving and the remnant set about tidying up after last night, blew up some rocks (that's how they roll at the NSG) and I amused people by offering to wash the club hut windows - there being little else I could usefully assist with.
Just as I finding my car keys and saying farewell it was decided to unlock the SRT tower and practice a little more. I probably should have stayed, heaven knows I could use the practice but I didn't. Here's hoping I don't ever need any of those skills for real...
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