Category: Mountain Rescue

Phones, coats and helicopters

Health and safety reflections from Cracoe fell race, Sun 21 July 2024

  • Always carry a phone
  • Always carry a waterproof
  • Be able to call Mountain Rescue, and keep warm while waiting for them to arrive
  • For all runs on the fells – short or long, racing or training, good weather or bad.

A comfortably warm summer Sunday afternoon. Just a short race, 2.5 miles. There’s no definite start time for the Senior race, it’s just whenever the Juniors have finished, which will not be before 1.30pm. From 1.30 onwards we mill about in the start field, dreamily passing time. Eventually the last Junior is in at 2.10pm and we’re underway. The kit recommendation is a waterproof but I decide we won’t need anything today, we’ll be up and down in 25 minutes.

Halfway up the climb, 7-8 minutes in, a runner at the front of the field collapses. I arrive about 90 seconds after; he’s unconscious, unresponsive, unmoving, and I fear the worst. Already he has a gaggle of runners around him, but I also stop to see if I can help. I hear the words “it’s a mountain rescue job” and instinctively dash straight down the fell. There are marshals and spectators on the course; as I pass I quickly mention what’s happened and ask if there are any first aiders. One lady says yes, she is, and will walk up to the casualty. I run straight through the start field to the café by the car park and ask if there’s a defibrillator in the village. Yes, outside the pub down the road. I find the defib in a box with a keypad on it and a sign saying dial 999. I don’t have my phone on me, but I mug a passer-by and he lends me his. I ring 999 and ask for the keypad code. The assistant tells me I have to report the incident first before I can be given the code. Five minutes elapse with me outlining events, describing the location and requesting mountain rescue. Eventually, the assistant tells me the incident has already been reported then gives me the code. I grab the defib and run back up the fell with it. It has a strap like a satchel and is surprisingly heavy. 30 minutes after the incident I arrive back at the casualty with the defib. At the same moment, the Air Ambulance helicopter lands close by and 2 paramedics jump out to assist the casualty, who I’m very relieved to see has now regained consciousness, still accompanied by several people around him.

Shortly after a regular ambulance and Mountain Rescue land rover appear in the fields far below. It’s not immediately obvious how they’re going to get up here, so for a second time I dash down the fell to help guide them up. After some scouting around we find a track to a gate blocked by a herd of cows. After shoo-ing them away the land rover can get through, across the next field and to within 200 yards of the incident. In the meantime the casualty, with the AA guys and everyone else, has managed to very gingerly walk down towards the land rover. At 3.35pm, 80 minutes after the incident, he’s in the land rover and soon after transferred to the ambulance and hospital. Later in the evening he posts to say he is recovering and thanks to all.  

On the face of things, it’s been a great outcome, considering. A runner has collapsed in a race but several people – runners, spectators and marshals – provide assistance as best they can. An emergency is reported and Air Ambulance, regular ambulance and Mountain Rescue arrive. The casualty regains consciousness, is brought off the mountain to safety and begins to recover.

Nonetheless, it’s good practice in any health and safety incident to review what happened and think about if there are any lessons that can be learned for next time. It would be all too easy to say “everything turned out OK”, move on and hope it doesn’t happen again. But this is the third similar incident we’ve been aware of at NLFR in the last 7 months, so here are some hopefully useful reflections from Sunday:

  • Assess the situation

When I stopped and saw the collapsed runner I understandably wanted to do something useful asap. It may have been better though to get a fuller picture of what had happened before acting. There were several people about and I just assumed someone would report the emergency. This is a problem though if everyone makes the same assumption! Perhaps I should have specifically asked “has the call been made?” and, if not, made it, either with my own phone or someone else’s. I could then have described the casualty’s condition and location while in situ. Equally, I could have asked the ascending runners if any were experienced first aiders at that point.

  • Take a phone

But I didn’t have my phone on me, I’d left it at the start, thinking it wouldn’t be needed. Well, it could have been; again, what if everyone else had decided not to bring a phone? (Obviously, you don’t always get reception halfway up a mountain, but often you do depending on where you are).

  • Take a waterproof

Even after stopping for just a short period on a warm day, I began to lose heat rapidly. I was just in a vest and hadn’t brought a waterproof. When I got back with the defib half an hour later, the guys I’d left with the casualty were still there; you may end up being still for some time in an emergency. So take a waterproof with you, so that in the event of you can keep either the casualty or yourself warm on the fells.

  • Defibrillators

In the event of cardiac arrest a defib could save someone’s life. Coincidentally we’ve been discussing defibs amongst the NLFR committee recently, and it was what came immediately to my mind at the key moment, hence my dash down the fell. I had recently visited https://www.defibfinder.uk/ which shows the location of every public defibrillator in the UK, so I had a pretty good hunch there would be one somewhere in Cracoe. What I didn’t know though was that I would need a phone to access it and that I would have to report the incident first (or that it would be so heavy). Another reason for having your phone on you. Equally, if making the initial emergency call, it may be worth asking the assistant for the location of the nearest public defib (and code) at that point, to save duplication and further delay later.  

It turned out the defib wasn’t needed on this occasion, as by the time I got back the Air Ambulance had arrived (with their own) and the casualty had regained consciousness anyway. However I later asked the lady who had gone up to provide first aid if it had still been worth me getting the defib; in her view it was, what if the helicopter had been on another call or hadn’t been able to land, or the casualty not regained consciousness?

It’s perhaps a more moot point whether it would have been useful to have had a defib at race registration. If there had been, theoretically it could have been with the casualty in 10 minutes, not 30. I do understand RO’s concerns though about expense, maintenance and the balance of responsibility (we do sign a disclaimer before every race accepting that we run it at our own risk). For the moment, perhaps be aware of the likely location of the nearest defib at a race, whether that’s at the start line or nearby phone box/other public location. Bear in mind that defibs come with instructions on how to use them, and amongst any race field there are likely to be first aiders who have used them before.

But perhaps the key reflection is: always take a phone and waterproof, so that your first option is making an emergency call for fully-equipped assistance, and to keep you and the casualty warm while you wait for it to arrive. Kit recommendations and requirements are not just for races, and not just for poor weather, but for all runs on the fells, long or short, fair weather or foul. Kit advice is not just in case it turns a bit cold or rainy for you on your run, it’s to protect you and others in the worst-case scenario.

Thanks to:

** Yorkshire Air Ambulance: www.yorkshireairambulance.org.uk/

** Upper Wharfedale Fell Rescue Association: www.uwfra.org.uk

** Everyone else who helped on the day

Dave Middlemas

High Cup Nick

I’ve done High Cup Nick race five times, by my count (which is probably off), and I will be doing it again, because it is so astonishingly beautiful. And because the race route serves my skills perfectly: five miles to the top of the Nick, then four miles mostly downhill. So as long as I do OK getting up, I will usually win places going down and as I only ever then lose places if a downhill is followed by a climb, in this case I should be able to keep them. Not that that mattered, particularly, except that a few clubmates were also running, and some of us are very well matched for ability and pace, and we have a friendly rivalry. And I am lying about it not mattering: I wanted to beat them. (Sorry not sorry Liz, Caroline and Emma.)

The weather forecast was poor, again. As if last week’s winds were not enough, this week’s were no better. Different forecasts showed different numbers: Mountain Weather Forecast showed 80kph, the BBC showed 45mph, but down in Dufton village. Variously, showers or sleet showers were also predicted. In winds, the A66 can sometimes be closed, so we set off in good time, having checked beforehand (it was closed but only to high-sided vehicles). Neil — better known to you as Braveshorts — told me that the A65 was closed though, and that could affect my clubmates. Neil was coming with me even though he hadn’t entered the race. He decided he would go for a run and then aim to be at the top of the Nick to meet runners, depending on the state of his cold (virus) and the cold (blowing a hoolie and temperature).

The parking was in a farmer’s field a ten minute walk from the village hall, previously race HQ but now Cake HQ as the registration was supposed to be in a marquee, but had been shifted to a small barn because the marquee blew away. We got there early but already the state of the field meant spinning wheels, and many people rushing to help spinning cars with a push up to the parking place. It was a cheering sight of the kindness of humans. But the field situation could only get worse the more cars arrived. I left Neil to get ready for his run and walked the long walk to get my number. By the time I got back the rain had set in. The driving, cold, miserable kind of rain.

So I wasn’t surprised to find him sitting in the car all kitted to run but looking at this view.

He is no fairweather runner, but it just looked too grim to open the car door. He set off eventually when it lessened, aiming to go up Dufton Pike and then up to the Nick, still. And I faffed in the warm car until it was time to head to the start. Some black’n’blues were milling about — Will, Dom, Ian, Bianca, Liz, Caroline — but a few hadn’t arrived. Five minutes before the start I saw two of the missing: Emma and Adam had taken the A65 and had a long and terrible trip up. No time for faffing, they said, but no time for fuelling either. Sharon H. never arrived, though I saw her later in the day: they had arrived at Dufton but the queues to get into the Field of Spinning Wheels were so long, and it was getting so late, they’d decided to terminate and headed off somewhere else to run instead.

Of course we never got a team photo, because we never do, but here is a sort of one with our good Fellanddale friend Louise.

By now, a few minutes before the start, the weather was lovely. Not too cold, not windy, not wet and some sunshine. I was wearing long tights again, which astonishes all my running friends who only ever see me in shorts. In Hilary Lane’s precise words: “The weather must be bad if Rose has legs on.” But I based my choice on those wind speeds, no matter how sunny the sky. People had made all sorts of clothing choices, from full waterproofs to vest only. That of course is up to them, as long as they carry kit, though I have my views on running in a vest in those conditions.

I was in vest and long-sleeve and no jacket. We set off, and for the first few miles, I was warm. The race goes up a tarmac lane for a while, then up to some fields, then contours along a couple of shoulders. At one point I cursed Neil for advising me to wear tights, as I wanted to be in shorts. But I was running well and felt good, and tried to concentrate on that, not on what was covering my legs. Anyway, he was right, because almost as soon as we turned into the valley, the weather turned too. First we had to cross a beck that I knew would be deep and rushing. It was a treat to see the Kirby Stephen Mountain Rescue team there: thank you KSMRT. And especially to the man who was standing nearly to his waist in freezing water helping each runner to cross. I am always grateful for a helping hand, and these three helping hands, passing me from one hand to another, were very welcome.

Then the wind came, and it was strong, even though it was friendly and pushing us up the valley. I could have dealt with that, but then the hail and sleet came at us sideways, and I began to get cold, and to stop regretting my clothing choice. I didn’t want to stop and put my jacket on, but I remembered last week and I knew I would get colder the higher I got, and that Neil, who knows his winds, had told me we would be running against a headwind on the downhill section. So I stopped and tried to put on my jacket, and it was tricky, not because my hands were too cold, but because the wind didn’t want me to. It was a jacket fight. I lost about 15 places to the tussle — both Liz and Caroline passed me — but it was the right decision, because I never wanted to take it off once over the following five miles. And I was warm enough to be able to put it on without asking for help (although this was offered by a few people who passed: thank you).

The run along the valley floor is long. Nor is it as flat as it seems. The Nick seems to get further away not nearer, like Stoodley Pike, and underfoot is either boggy or rocky and nothing inbetween. But I didn’t stop and walk as I have in other years, and I got a few places back (sorry not sorry Caroline and, eventually, Liz). At the base of the Nick, I ran as far as I could, then again on a flatter bit, before the boulders began. At this point I saw that people were taking a wide arc up the first part but I couldn’t see the sense in that, when all was boulders. So I just went straight up, and got more places that way. (I’m not obsessed with getting places, it just doesn’t happen very often that I do or that I can catch up after losing a lot.) The wind was so strong that the waterfall was blowing backwards. I stopped and turned because on the Nick I always stop and turn, and it was stunning, because unless there is clag, the view is always stunning.

The boulders towards the top were slippery and icy, and I thought my old fear of exposure could have reappeared. But it didn’t, and I really enjoyed the climb, and even managed to smile, according to Mike’s camera:

At the top, I heard “well done Rose” from Neil and Mike. I tried to give Neil a hug, but I didn’t notice his cowbell around his neck, so I managed to crush my voicebox on his cowbell which I think is not an injury that even experienced A&E staff will frequently encounter. I turned, and it was like running into a brick wall. The wind was ferocious. This kind of ferocious. It wasn’t as bad as on top of West Kip during the Carnethy 5 last week, but I still had to use a high proportion of my energy just to go forward (at West Kip, it had been about staying upright, never mind running). I suddenly felt extremely drained, but I knew Caroline was right behind me, and she is competitive and can beat me, so I kept going. Past the Mountain Rescue team at the quad bike, where we waved our contactless dibbers, and into the wind. There is a long trod across the headland, a short incline, more trod, then the downhill proper. At this point the headwind was so bad that my contacts were sore, and I found it hard to blink. Not the best eyesight for a quick rocky downhill, but I got more places, and I kept all except one, up into the farmer’s field that is a slight incline but feels mountainous, and across the field, into the lane, where you see habitation and know you are nearly done, up the short hill into the village, round the back of houses and through yards, to the village green and the welcome sight of flags and people.

Back.

I was filthy. I knew my face was mucky because I’d used my mitts on the climb up, on my hands and knees, and then wiped my face loads of times because it was the kind of wind where your nose blows itself. But I didn’t realise how mucky.

Oh well. I headed into the village hall, putting blue plastic over my shoes as requested. It was, as it always is, extremely crowded, but I got my soup, and found a tiny space next to the windowsill. “Rose,” said Dom, “wipe your nose.” He meant wipe it free of mud, not anything else, so I washed my face. But I didn’t get changed because I felt warm. That was stupid, as once I’d gathered two cakes and a cup of tea and set off to the car, I got very very cold and didn’t warm up for a long time. Basic mountaincraft: remove your cold clothes even if you don’t feel you need to.

I really enjoyed myself, though I’ve had enough of wind storms. And the hail can do one. High Cup Nick is such a beautiful place, and although my time wasn’t the quickest, I think I lost ten minutes to conditions, so I’m content. Thank you to the people of Dufton, to all the volunteers, from the stalwarts in that field of spinning wheels doom to the beck sprite and anyone who stood out in the cold to marshal or cheer.

It is said that if you don’t like the weather in Scotland (or Yorkshire or Wales), wait ten minutes. This was that kind of race: autumn to begin with, a glimpse of spring, then winter, then more winter, then autumn again. But it was great fun, because it always is. This was the first year it had a waiting list, because it is rightly becoming a) a classic and b) popular. So keep an eye out if you like astonishing views of official geological wonders with your fell races.

All results here. NLFR results:

— Rose George

Be prepared

Having recently experienced two incidents in the fells, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind myself, and everyone else, of the respect we need to give to the mountains and high fells, and the importance of what we need to carry and how to prepare ourselves for all eventualities.

The first incident was when Emma fell and gashed her knee quite badly on Cross Fell Race a couple of months ago. This was initially attended to by me and fellow runners who provided bandages and water etc, and then was efficiently dealt with by the race organisers who managed to get her transported off the fell and forwarded to hospital without the need for fell rescue. No long term damage, thankfully.

The second happened during a recce of Langdale Horseshoe this last Bank Holiday Monday, only around half a mile up Stickle Ghyll.  Sheelagh, Sharon, Emma and me, along with friends from Kirkstall Harriers and Horsforth Fellandale (Izzy and Louise), witnessed what became quite a serious incident, when a walker tripped and fell right in front of Sheelagh, audibly and obviously breaking a bone/bones in his lower leg.

Between us, and the friend of the injured man, we managed to make him as comfortable and warm as possible in the circumstances, with what equipment we had.  As there were a few of us, we each, quite naturally, took on our own roles.  Izzy, who incidentally is currently training to be a mountain rescuer, rang the emergency services; Sheelagh asked questions about medical history, allergies, medication etc. Meanwhile, Sharon and the rest of us were emptying our bags to see what warm/extra clothing we could use to help.  Sharon had a foam mat which we managed to slip under the injured guy’s back/bum, together with his waterproof jacket. He was actually carrying a sleeping bag in his rucksack (as he’d been up to Stickle Tarn in the early morning to view the sunrise), so we covered him with that, along with our silver foil blankets and Louise’s hat. 

Interestingly, and importantly to note, we gave the emergency service operators our “What3words” location, as well as grid reference and a description physically of where we were. It was surprising to hear that the first thing they asked for was “What3words,” even before grid reference. If you haven’t heard of this, please look it up. It is a vital piece of new technology that can locate you to a 3m-square area with a unique three word name, anywhere in the world, and apparently the rescue services love it.

The injured man was clearly in a lot of pain and discomfort, though at times was in reasonable spirits, joking and chatting (he even phoned his mum during this time, saying, “hi Mum, don’t worry, I’m up a mountain and I’ve broken my leg”!). As time went on though, it was obvious his body was starting to object to the trauma and he started displaying signs of shock/shaking/ shivering. Rightly or wrongly (to be discussed further), we gave him a Shotblok and a few sips of water, which very quickly brought him round, though thankfully a short while afterwards, the true heroes arrived.

We left the scene after almost two hours, with the knowledge that our guy was in the safe hands of the amazing Langdale/Ambleside Mountain Rescue Team (gosh, it was incredible seeing what equipment they carried and how expertly they dealt with the situation). After staying with them and observing for a while, we were then advised that a coastguard helicopter was on its way to winch him off the mountainside. We said goodbye to our friend, who was very grateful to his “Yorkshire Angels,” as he kept referring to us, especially to Izzy who had held his hand for almost all the time we were there. And we went on our way, only to hear the faint sounds of the engine/rotors as we were high up on Thunacar Knott a little later.

Anyhow, I think this showed the stark realities of what can actually turn very quickly from a nice day out to quite tricky circumstances in the blink of an eye. I for certain have made a mental note of what I need to consider when venturing out (though I do appreciate we generally travel a little lighter in fell races) but when out there in small groups or alone, I think we should all:

  • make sure we have enough warm clothing. There is a reason the FRA and race organisers enforce rules: you may actually need to wear your spare clothing, even on a very warm August Bank Holiday weekend when you’re stuck in one place up a mountain for quite some time.
  • carry enough food and water for longer than we anticipate being out.
  • consider carrying a basic first aid kit, as even a very small dressing and a foil blanket may be a life-saver.
  • carry a fully charged mobile phone with ‘What3words’ and grid reference apps downloaded.
  • consider registering on a first aid course or read up on basic first aid and mountain safety.

Hopefully our injured friend will be OK and will make a full and speedy recovery.  The incident is reported on the Langdale/Ambleside Mountain Rescue Team website:

Also, watch out for a Channel 4 production some time soon, as their cameraman was on the scene and interviewed Izzy.

Ed’s note: The club is very proud of you all: bravo for your quick-thinking and for carrying kit.

–Hilary Lane