Backpacker Magazine – August 2009

Yosemite Rescue Dogs: Could This Dog Save Your Life?

Kristin Bjornsen hikes into the Sierras to meet Gus, a new breed of highly trained rescue professional that's already patrolling Yosemite for lost and injured backpackers.

by: Kristin Bjornsen, Photos by Mark Compton

Tags:
• Survival
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• Health & First Aid
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From Smokey's Kitchen, Bigelow and I drive to Yosemite. We backpack up the Mist Trail on a preventive search, during which a YODOGS team scouts the trails for trouble. Bigelow talks to a steady stream of hikers, explaining what YOSAR does. Looking around, I take note of Yosemite's deceptive nature. Yes, there are cobblestone trails and metal handrails, but the moment you step off-trail, real wilderness stretches as far as the eye can see.

Thanks to YODOGS' success, other parks are jumping on board. Lassen Volcanic National Park named its version of YODOGS the "Volcanines"; they face sulfurous mud pits and paw-shredding volcanic rock. Even CARDA joined the charge. In 2005–after heated debate–the organization adopted a classification system in which searchers must pass a physical fitness test (a 10-mile backpack above 7,000 feet, with a minimum 1,000 feet elevation gain) before participating in high-country missions.

Both dog and handler must be competent since searches can be so dangerous. The very first YODOG, Ranger, enjoyed his status for just two months. The night before Thanksgiving, 1998, Bigelow and Butrym were called to a search for a missing hunter. Scouting the area, Ranger ran to a particular spot, and Bigelow saw a sudden flash.

Ranger had found the missing man. Strong winds had downed a power line; the man had tripped on it and been electrocuted. His body was still in contact with the line when Ranger put his paw on him. Butrym pulled Ranger's charred body from under the line, then raced to the car. Bigelow drove 95 miles per hour to the vet while Butrym gave Ranger CPR. "We knew he was gone," Bigelow says, choking up even now.

As Gus, Bigelow, and I continue up the Mist Trail, Gus prances along, blissfully unaware of the big paw prints he has to fill. Since YODOGS inception, teams have saved Boy Scouts and the elderly; a missing person on Castle Peak; a lost autistic 10-year-old in Tehema County; at least three octogenarians with Alzheimer's; and a man trapped for 36 hours in a large poison oak patch in Aqa Nuevo State Natural Reserve.

At the top of Vernal Fall, people lie beside the Emerald Pool, bathing in the day's last rays. We creep along because Gus is very popular. Almost every hiker stops to pet him and ask, What kind is he? Does he bite? Is someone missing? Gus soaks up the attention. If you let him, he tries to insert his entire 58-pound self into your lap.

One man tells Gus, "Remember what I smell like, buddy, in case I get lost." Since it's thought dogs remember the scent of every person they've met, Gus probably will. Later that night, we will set up our tent beneath Half Dome's shoulder, and Gus will hit the hay in his trademark position: on his back, feet straight in the air, occasionally sneezing himself awake. Come winter, Bigelow will start training him in avalanche search-and-rescue; he hopes to have Gus certified by 2010. Meanwhile, the hiking season is winding down, and luckily, on this day, no one is missing.

I look back over Yosemite Valley. Dusk gilds the granite domes, and the clouds blush pink and purple. It's too bad that Gus can't see the colors of the sunset. But then again, maybe he can smell them.

Kristin Bjornsen lives in Boulder, Colorado, with her dog, Clyde, who's always searching for turkey sandwiches.

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