Searching for Chelsea

When I pulled up at the bank parking lot, a volunteer came up to my car and said that there were a thousand volunteers today and that I'd have to park a ways down the road. Walking back towards the staging area, I was wondering if it really made any difference that one more person would make. The line to get registered was about 80 long and it didn't move for about thirty minutes. A volunteer yelled out that we would be processed when the latest batch left the staging area. We were offered snack bars and water, but I already had my camelbak and own food.

The line moved rapidly once it started. My ID and registration form were quickly processed, my wrist band applied and we were placed in groups of eighteen. A big, imposing gentleman asked for people with police or armed forces training, to lead the groups. I wanted to volunteer for steeper, brush terrain, but didn't want to get in the way of those processing the groups of people. There were prepared lunches supplied by local businesses and the entire operation was pretty efficient, considering it was volunteer based and quickly put together. Only short side was no toilets in evidence. After about an hour of processing, I was glad to be in a group and able to find a bathroom before we staged in cars in the Von's parking lot.

The suburban wife driving our minivan knew the family personally through her son and daughter. There were two young mothers, a middle aged female former employee of Mr. King from LA, and another young man from LA in camo pants. We were kind of quiet, but the driver made us feel comfortable. No one exchanged names, it wasn't really that kind of atmosphere. We met the leader at Von's. He was a active duty Navy pilot and had a by the book approach to the initial search. Once we got to the search area (it wasn't obvious to any of us where it was initially), I was glad that my hiking poles were at the ready. The driver shared that her dog was snake bit on the toungue in her back yard. She said the antivenom was quite expensive.

Our grid included an avocado orchard that had seen better days. After an easy part through the grove, we started hitting arroyos choked with heavy brush, nettles and the usual San Diego assortment of prickly plants. We took our time and were led well, making sure that nothing was missed if possible. After we had completed the search area (about an hour and a half), we began to look in a more promising area close to the freeway on kind of a free lance approach. My fellow searchers began making some small talk and became more of a group by our efforts and the lessening of the seriousness that dominated the first phase of the search. The area did not look promising in that it did not look disturbed in any way and it would have been a long carry by the perpetrator in any case.

On the way back from the search site, one of the mothers in my group received a text message that a body had been found. The driver and I expressed our relief at the news. It had never been anything but our commitment to the parents that motivated this turnout. Any parent could be in limbo for years, hanging on to some faint hope that they would see their loved one safe and home. So, the search had ended successfully and I was glad to have helped. You always get that smug satisfaction when you reach out to help someone and the goal you set is realized. Still, there were some voices from my past which seemed to cast a slight depression to my mood.

In the dim past I had been responsible for the lives of children. Working as a child protective social worker in the dependent children section of the juvenile court, my job was to prevent these terrible things from happening to children in my caseload. Granted, the possible victims were not the targets of damaged predators, but rather those who supposedly were related by blood family or boyfriends of same. My caseload was about 40 families and I had never lost a child. That is not to say that mistakes were not made. Mistakes in that line of work stay with you or they change your ability to feel much of anything towards those in your care.

When proposition 13 passed, things changed pretty quickly. The caseloads doubled and I no longer had the time to keep all the balls in the air at one time. My decision was an easy one. There was no way that I was going to be the fall guy for taxpayers who did not want to have the job done properly. It was retraining time.

Sure, every one identifies with the elderly couple in the 1970's that had seen their tax assessment/property value double and triple. But Proposition 13 was such a poorly written bill that it capped commercial property, had no means test, and allowed property to be inherited without reassessment. Plus, it forced the 2/3 majority vote necessary to change taxes. Schools and County government became more dependent on the State government for full funding. So, here we are today. Paralysis in government and competition between very worthy programs such as schools, caring for the sick and elderly, and protection of our children. This is no accident that everything looks like it's falling apart. In addition to the voices from the past, I feel slightly depressed that TV sound bites have come to hold more sway than rational discussion. Even more dark is the feeling that our society has become a bit selfish and the reasons to avoid "wasteful spending" are coupled with astonishment at how the system whose job it is to protect us doesn't work.

Jean Peak (San Jacinto Wilderness) Sunday, Feb 28

Our good friends Jerry and Dianna had their 50th wedding anniversary, so Kathy and I hosted a small party of 15 to honor the occasion. We all had a good time and enjoyed the company, food and drink. 3:30 AM the alarm went off and it was time to meet my ski buddies at the Poway park and ride.

We had tried to get up to Jean Peak last weekend, but didn't quite make it. I had a new pair of skis (wider) and was anxious to try them out. On the way up we were treated to a blue sky and snow on the foothills from the storm the day before. We made the 8:00 Palm Springs tram with time to spare.

I was a little intimidated by the level of the group. It soon became obvious that I was the weak member, whether from too much fun the night before or just genetics and geriatrics. The sky was a cobalt blue, six or eight inches of new snow and no wind. We wasted no time getting to Round Valley, about two miles from the tram. We were all using skins (pile on one side adhesive on the other) on the bottom of our skis. There was a mix of telemark and alpine touring equipment. One thing for sure, these guys and gal were making me look rather like a little too old or at least too slow.

Round Valley, Jean ahead

Well, we are now off for it. I don't feel any desire to achieve a mastery over my self, I am starting to regret eating that tomale at 4:10 AM. My stomach is turning, am I in an impossible situation? That's OK, just calm down, we can contain this situation. It is getting more and more out of my comfort zone as the Jean Peak becomes closer. It is quite steep, but the skins are holding. The day is so beautiful that I have almost forgotten that my shallow breath indicates some lapse between what my body wants and what it is getting. Fortunately, for me (!), Afra has foot problems. I get to rest. It is good and am starting to enjoy the sky above and the snow below.

Afra going up Jean Peak (South face)

Now we are on top and I'm going to find a place that is private. Not to think deep thoughts.

Jean Peak looking Southeast

I'm back and the better group looks like they are history. The drop over Jean Peak is much steeper than the video. Sierra Descents Video Link I start to head toward the North, to find a way that works for a guy that probably doesn't qualify as "expert". Don't mistake me now, I can look pretty good at a resort place that has those cushioned rescue sleds. It is up here where you pay dearly for those mistakes in judgment or over estimations of your capability to function under pressure. Dave and Afra follow me and everything looks rosy, until my line shows that sooner than later you are going to have to drop into this abyss. Plus, because we have avoided the hard part, now we are way lower than we need to me to drop back into Round Valley.

This means that we are following tracks into a narrow ravine called Tamarrack Valley. Dave is making great low speed turns, but Afra and I resort to booting trail. With 4 pound boot weight, this is not a great solution. Dave is having the time of his life, skiing very well and not getting hurt.

We are back to the tram ramp at 10 minutes to 3. This means that you must push as hard as possible to catch the 3 o'clock. Later than that, the masses of SoCal will haunt you as you wait in an "express" line that someone has trouble with their checkbook. We are back on the road, no one is hurt and it has been a transforming experience. San Diego rocks..

Tracks left for you to follow