Tim Jones
The sudden cut of loss and realization is painfully sharp.
Acceptance and understanding is elusive; the suffering deeper still.
Late Sunday afternoon I went to Seymour Mountain. On each anniversary of my accident, I try to visit and go for a walk. After just missing sunset at the parking lot I took my headlamp and camera gear for a hike to Dog Mountain. Not much snow but plenty of quiet time to revisit my fall, 7 years ago now.
January 17, 2007
Simon and I went for a snowshoe hike around the east side of Seymour and went up Runner Peak. During the traverse back, about 1/2 hour from the ski runs, I fell. A long way. 600 feet below I ended up at Theta Lake. My backpack & coat ripped from my body, never to be found again. One boot and snowshoe gone. Broken shoulder, missing teeth and a neck fracture. Blood. Disorientated and cold. Though truth be told, I was very lucky to be in such good condition.
Nearly impossible to hike down but Simon makes it halfway regardless. Relieved to hear me alive, he manages to call for help. Somehow within 40 minutes and moments before dark sets in, a helicopter comes in and drops off 2 men. I clearly remember their headlamps coming towards me. I'm pretty sure I was mumbling and yelling, wondering why the helicopter had gone away. One of them told me to shut up. I had just met Tim Jones.
It took about an hour to reach the viewpoint at the end of the trail. Most of the fog below had disappeared so I sat down and decided to wait for a bit. Maybe the colder night air would bring the low cloud cover back. Besides, just sitting there gave me a chance to look up at the stars and check things out in my head.
January 18, 2007
Tim & Gord had wrapped me up within a heated blanket. They kept me alive. I think Tim's outer layer was a garbage bag with arm holes cut in it. How they had kept warm overnight I have no idea. I didn't know it at the time but Tim has been involved in over 1,500 rescues during his time with NSR since 1987. I couldn't have been in better hands.
SAR personnel had mobilized and were sent in to assist. The first group of 5 made it in before the worsening weather and terrible snow conditions forced everyone else to turn back for their own safety. Thank you Jeff, Bruce, Doug, John & Rollie. We were badly in need of help. The snow continued to fall. At one point a loud rumble headed down towards us, stopping within throwing distance. Unable to see what had happened I asked what was that. Tim replied, "Mother Nature". That avalanche forced the group to move base camp. They dug a snow cave and put me inside. I spent the next 14 hours within the hole. There was no getting home today. They all suffered worse than me I'm sure.
After realizing that only a few lingering clouds would make their way back over the city, I took this photo and packed up. No one else was out here. I headed back just before 7pm. When I passed First Lake I was surprised to hear what sounded like people above. Seemed unusual to me. Later along the trail I bumped into 3 paramedics who were on their way to help with a cardiac arrest near Dinky Peak. I gave them a hand carrying some of their heavy gear. I thought about asking if Tim was up here, as I hadn't seen him in a while, but it seemed inappropriate as they were on an emergency call so it never came up. [Tim Jones is an advanced life-support paramedic and paramedic-in-charge for the B.C. Ambulance Service in North Vancouver] On the way, they were told via radio, that another group were bringing the subject down the mountain. So we returned to the parking lot, where I left them and all the other many rescue personnel.
January 19, 2007
There was talk of a insane 10+ hour rope rescue to lift me out of this bowl if the deep clouds continued to prevent an air rescue. But finally a small opening appeared in the afternoon, and a helicopter popped in. They basically tossed me in while it hovered just above the frozen lake. Inside the helicopter and on the way to the hospital, I was laying down on the legs of Curtis Jones, Tim's son.
I simply would not have survived had his father not risked his life to rescue me. Words cannot not express the gratitude my family continues to feel towards him. I don't recall ever hearing Tim or any of the others complaining, even though none of them could have been comfortable. These volunteers are heroes in my books.
After giving a Mexican hitchhiker a ride down the mountain I received a shocking text telling me who had died on Seymour that night. The facts all tumbled into place. Tears began to fall. And the local outdoor community was devastated. Tim Jones had passed away from a heart attack.
Tim had an amazing spirit and strength. Determined and passionate. He was a larger-than-life leader of North Shore Rescue. I know he will be missed deeply by his team, friends & co-workers.
My deepest condolences to his family. I can't imagine the grief you must be feeling right now.
Tim Jones
The sudden cut of loss and realization is painfully sharp.
Acceptance and understanding is elusive; the suffering deeper still.
Late Sunday afternoon I went to Seymour Mountain. On each anniversary of my accident, I try to visit and go for a walk. After just missing sunset at the parking lot I took my headlamp and camera gear for a hike to Dog Mountain. Not much snow but plenty of quiet time to revisit my fall, 7 years ago now.
January 17, 2007
Simon and I went for a snowshoe hike around the east side of Seymour and went up Runner Peak. During the traverse back, about 1/2 hour from the ski runs, I fell. A long way. 600 feet below I ended up at Theta Lake. My backpack & coat ripped from my body, never to be found again. One boot and snowshoe gone. Broken shoulder, missing teeth and a neck fracture. Blood. Disorientated and cold. Though truth be told, I was very lucky to be in such good condition.
Nearly impossible to hike down but Simon makes it halfway regardless. Relieved to hear me alive, he manages to call for help. Somehow within 40 minutes and moments before dark sets in, a helicopter comes in and drops off 2 men. I clearly remember their headlamps coming towards me. I'm pretty sure I was mumbling and yelling, wondering why the helicopter had gone away. One of them told me to shut up. I had just met Tim Jones.
It took about an hour to reach the viewpoint at the end of the trail. Most of the fog below had disappeared so I sat down and decided to wait for a bit. Maybe the colder night air would bring the low cloud cover back. Besides, just sitting there gave me a chance to look up at the stars and check things out in my head.
January 18, 2007
Tim & Gord had wrapped me up within a heated blanket. They kept me alive. I think Tim's outer layer was a garbage bag with arm holes cut in it. How they had kept warm overnight I have no idea. I didn't know it at the time but Tim has been involved in over 1,500 rescues during his time with NSR since 1987. I couldn't have been in better hands.
SAR personnel had mobilized and were sent in to assist. The first group of 5 made it in before the worsening weather and terrible snow conditions forced everyone else to turn back for their own safety. Thank you Jeff, Bruce, Doug, John & Rollie. We were badly in need of help. The snow continued to fall. At one point a loud rumble headed down towards us, stopping within throwing distance. Unable to see what had happened I asked what was that. Tim replied, "Mother Nature". That avalanche forced the group to move base camp. They dug a snow cave and put me inside. I spent the next 14 hours within the hole. There was no getting home today. They all suffered worse than me I'm sure.
After realizing that only a few lingering clouds would make their way back over the city, I took this photo and packed up. No one else was out here. I headed back just before 7pm. When I passed First Lake I was surprised to hear what sounded like people above. Seemed unusual to me. Later along the trail I bumped into 3 paramedics who were on their way to help with a cardiac arrest near Dinky Peak. I gave them a hand carrying some of their heavy gear. I thought about asking if Tim was up here, as I hadn't seen him in a while, but it seemed inappropriate as they were on an emergency call so it never came up. [Tim Jones is an advanced life-support paramedic and paramedic-in-charge for the B.C. Ambulance Service in North Vancouver] On the way, they were told via radio, that another group were bringing the subject down the mountain. So we returned to the parking lot, where I left them and all the other many rescue personnel.
January 19, 2007
There was talk of a insane 10+ hour rope rescue to lift me out of this bowl if the deep clouds continued to prevent an air rescue. But finally a small opening appeared in the afternoon, and a helicopter popped in. They basically tossed me in while it hovered just above the frozen lake. Inside the helicopter and on the way to the hospital, I was laying down on the legs of Curtis Jones, Tim's son.
I simply would not have survived had his father not risked his life to rescue me. Words cannot not express the gratitude my family continues to feel towards him. I don't recall ever hearing Tim or any of the others complaining, even though none of them could have been comfortable. These volunteers are heroes in my books.
After giving a Mexican hitchhiker a ride down the mountain I received a shocking text telling me who had died on Seymour that night. The facts all tumbled into place. Tears began to fall. And the local outdoor community was devastated. Tim Jones had passed away from a heart attack.
Tim had an amazing spirit and strength. Determined and passionate. He was a larger-than-life leader of North Shore Rescue. I know he will be missed deeply by his team, friends & co-workers.
My deepest condolences to his family. I can't imagine the grief you must be feeling right now.