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Commander's Corner

Our major fund raising effort for this year is almost completed. The drawing for the Camp-trailer will take place at the Pine/Strawberry Arts and Crafts show on Labor Day weekend. Our Fundraising chairman, Tom Sander, has worked very, very hard to make this year's fundraiser one of the best we have ever had. I want to thank all who have worked hard to make this one a success.

A Man-Tracking certification was completed on the 11th of August. We now have two more Man-Trackers to add to our resource pool. Jack Logan (JJ), and Mark Frantzke both did a fine job at the certification. Thanks to Jim Martin and his crew for conducting the class.

Roger Miotto and Bill Pitterle conducted a rope training class at Pine Canyon Narrows Saturday the 21st of August. New prospective rope team members, Jack Logan, Carl Hacker and Al Hurd were in attendance. They rappelled off the cliff with no problems. They showed confidence in their equipment and made it look easy.

We have some really talented individuals that are conducting training in many areas. Individuals who would like to conduct some type of training or participate in existing trainings please let a board member know. If you would like to see a certain type of training that is not being offered, let it be known.


Stay active and stay healthy, Dave Pirtle 507


Don't forget; the meetings this month are Sept 7th for the Board and Sept 9th for the General Meeting.



Orange

To all of a Color Unnatural, of Hearts Mighty and Souls Resplendent, to all who Serve while wrapped in Orange,

I beg some small indulgence, a tiny passing out of your hectic day, I speak to you as one, of Mountain Rescue, I speak to you personally, as friend and alike spirit, I speak to you of grief most enveloping...

Mountain Rescue is an Avocation, a Cause, a Desire, a Compulsion, a Great Kindness meted out to others unknown and a Vast Burden upon the knowing. A Joyful Pursuit. A Happy Play. An Enobling and Uplifting Trade, one of all Good Hope and Gentle Good Will. And of other things. For where all light does shine, some darkness will seek to balance the world.

Of these other things, one must talk. This is important, it demands some telling and much knowing.

I needed to leave Mountain Rescue a while, I needed to walk away from my life of Orange. It became an Imperative.

There are so many things one could say, yet a search of the mind for words revealing emotions always fails. Comes up short. If you travel in places where others may suffer or die, you will see some unhappiness. Of varying degrees. Depending upon your own special assemblege of heart, mind, spirit and emotion, you may more than be a dispassionate witness.

In my time, of many years and of missions uncounted, I did see much.

Children gone too soon, always too soon when a child. There can be no pain to compare to so horrid and evil a price demanded of the living, than that expensed upon the witnessing of a child gone too soon from life's great mysteries.

More adults tho. The first, never saw him, in a bag. But in a place of great beauty and danger, and as well of great death. The next night sitting and attending to my gear I see his blood on it, unexpected, shocking, and some tears flow.

A couple, two young lovers planning marriage, one slips and the other jumps in to save, the first is saved by a passerby, the second dies.

A man of middle years, who having lost what element of life compel us onward to a natural ending, did lay aside all clothing and take his repose in a frozen stream. There to be found, and removed, by us few of Orange.

A fellow of subterranean and underwater exploration. We fought hard to save, did not succeed. Many phone calls followed, stunned that this stranger to me was friend to many I knew. My first visit from Anger, how dare He Die So!?

An old woman, never found, believed lost in a mine shaft, official swines preventing a proper ending, an elderly life not having the value of one more recently minted. All efforts of no use, all sweat expended for political gain of small minded barons.

Some visitor from cooler locales, dies upon the desert, in near shouting distance of picnic tables. Again, swines and barons of much authority lay at the root of it all, preventing good and swift actions whilst worrying over the containment of cost and management of risks they have no comprehension of. Men and women who murder by regulation, and by weapon of plan and procedure.

Again a child, poor stolen and horrifically dispatched young life. Her face upon billboards and name upon bumpers for months, even years. "Don't Forget ... " they proclaim. "How can I", I always replied in my quiet whisperings, "You won't let me". Found only bones, and there a telling most vicious. Hundreds worked for weeks, and of me several hundreds of hours.

A snowy mountain, a car found for the antenna above the snow bank. Upon the seat a single rose and letter of farewell to a lover whose love had faded. Searched on snowshoes and skis, it took the spring meltings for the hunters to find him hanging in a tree.

One day a young man falls, and Orange people rush with fervency to a life known yet to be upon the earth and holding there by thread most tenuous. A rare expiration, in our eyes and at our hands. Many of Orange are left wounded, some never again answer the call. I continue onward.

Again, another young man, a slip or loose stone we know not. A tumble of over one hundred, leaving far less intact than that which is broken. We struggle and fight, and send him off hanging beneath a chopper, wondering what we saved, what gift is quadraplegia and horrific brain injury. A work of danger and great haste, carried out by hearts and hands both Orange and not.

A fire across mountain sides, and a man mis-steps. Upon flat ground and lands only his own height to that ground. But falling with perfect wrongness, he is snuffed out. How many times do we trip or stumble in life, to stand up and brush away the dust or count some small bruises. So very durable, still so very easily damaged.

Visits to the same places, for youthful boys and children far older. Same stories, a bit more to the left or right than the last one. A rapid descent and sudden stop. All hopes, dreams, yearnings of life as dispatched as a sea upon a candle.

I skip over far too many, remembering not when and at times not where but emotions always. Images in my mind are as emotions, and emotions as images. Feeling what I see and seeing all that I have felt.

Finally, there must be a straw. A straw one too many of numbers always heavy. And so did I meet my last straw. A short way down a minor path, a short distance to the base of a rock. And there a boy, perhaps aged not quite 13. In all the good health of youth and with all that may follow ahead promising, beckoning. Yet not an injury obvious, a small hole where head met sharp stone, concealed in long hair. To fall so far and have not a note of damage, to be silenced by so small a wound. I stayed a while, someone must watch over as others hike in to erect a manner of removal. I stayed a while and any while was too long. Seeing that young face and all that had been stolen from him. A tragedy all too profound. A face haunting of dream states, of waking states, and for weeks far too many.

All these emotions, enforced by images seared in deep. These will never leave me. At times some small reminder, and a wave of sorrow passes over. Passing as if a cloud, an unfriendly one but known well and feared not at all. All clouds do pass. Of this I am well educated.

There is some amount of Grief to be had. Some quantity to be absorbed by Hearts Good and Spirits True. All that life brings us is carried forth within from the time we first find breath. Every happiness, and every other as well. We take on differing amounts of each occurrence, and to degrees most individually defined. For some the good stays only, the ill passing thru with no accounting needed. Others most different, absorbing only the ill and for that being dark and hateful figures. Few of such kind are to be met in life. And then there is one as I, absorbing all of it, and rejecting no joy nor happiness nor good and noble hearts as well encountered. But too not well able to unstick the Grief, the Tragic Endings. The entrapped Darkness weighing upon my Spirit, and pulling me down Unhappy Paths.

One who may wear Orange, may as well be a witness to families asundered. To the vast waves that engulf those who loved well when we, the Orange people, bring forth from a world wild to paved lands the Lost One. One who may choose Orange, may well see these displays, of grief and pain and dismal emotion taking strong men and loving mothers and empassioned hearts to tears and knees. To witness such as this, is no happy business. It is the Darkness of a life spent most Orange.

So very much being of the past. So much of sadness having gone by. I have mourned every loss, no matter how unknown. No matter the circumstance, the simple math of those too stupid to live, too unlucky to survive, to innocent to know any better. For each I have sought a brief and quiet minute, along a trail, behind a rock, a light turned out in a cave, against wind of blizzard and rain upon flood. There to say a silent good bye to some like spirit, to shed some minor tear if tear was at hand.

Looking to mountains most beloved, places of great magic and joy no less immense than may be imagined, I could see only places of sorrow and death. Could see only those places where some X may be placed, perhaps deserving of a cross. Seeing only history dark, dreams only of loss, memory always invading even the most awakened and involved hours. It came to be Time. It came to be an Imperative. To step away. To leave behind some small while, or more as may prove the need, that of all things Orange. To allow the healing of time and the release of telling.

Now some years hence, much changed and much the same. Proud for all gifts given in those years, as well grateful of all received. I see joy and knowing it well am uplifted. Where any child walks hope is aloft as a balloon on a string. Where any sadness may be sighted I hope for good fortunes and happier times to the afflicted. At peace in all questions, and to all degrees, delighted by my journeys and seeking well after all potentials. Perhaps a new entry into that very Orange place of my soul. Perhaps.

Again I am upon wild places, worlds of deep forest and vertical mountain, of winds driven as a madman rushes and mists softly flowing upon gentle tumbling waters. All of nature's beauties again call to me and I answer afoot and well burdened. But no longer by melancholy overbearing, rather by pack heavy and miles much ahead.

All the grand magic of our little place in time, again is seen for its magic, infrequently for its sorrows. As is well said by one more scholarly than I, "This too shall pass". And it has and does continue, over small years, to pass to my times gone by. Allowing the warming light of times awaiting to shine through, in this way yielding encouragement and remembrance of all joys.

I write this for reasons mixed, those of self and those of others. I write this for it is never spoken of by any degree realistic, the charges taxed upon those of Orange. This is anonymous for good reason, as hoping to again wear that Happy Color in Good and Honorable Service it would do not well to be known, to be known as one with such a past. And anonymous as well for simple decency demands respect of individual, of privacy. Yet sharing is of import, a thing that must be offered for any lesson it may bring the Gentle Reader.

Do not assign these few words to any party. You all know one who will fit in some respects, yet not in others. It is a rudeness there, to wonder or seek after Who. Rather do Good Honor and Noble Action upon yourselves, by being at hand for those who too serve. What they may carry, or you, is a thing that the other shares. A telling of the least trouble does with some magic uncomprehended release the injury to extent most effective. Be at hand, be knowing, be caring. These who are of Orange as are you, know that they may one day be in need not of your strong back and mule-ish demeanor but rather of your open ears and stout heart.

Of those in Orange I have no shortage of Good Opinion and Merry Tidings. Such people who give so freely, who yearn with Mountain Spirit and Giant Heart. These are a Noble People. To these my Thanks Unending, my Appreciation and Respect meeting no boundary.

To all of you known or not, met or not, seen or not, heard or not,

My Very Warmest Thanks.

Anonymous
(Editor's note; the preceding was shared by Vice-Commander Bill Pitterle, although not the author, he has held this article close for several years and it is worth saving and sharing.)

A Senior Moment  By Jane Boyles

Deputy Rod Cronk

We all know who uttered the now famous phrase "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." Sometimes we meet someone who stands out in a crowd-not because of his height, but what is inside the person. When I asked Sgt Hudgens if I could do an article on Rod, he was most agreeable. Living a life of dedication to protecting and helping others is something that comes from deep inside the person, not what is learned in any school. The caliber of this type of individual is defined by the humble unselfish giving without needing constant recognition or praise. I recently spoke with Rod and told him I would like to write about him in my Leaders and Legends column. His response was a simple "but I am no legend". However, he is a natural leader, which will make him a legend in his own way someday.

Rod Cronk grew up in the pastoral fruit growing country of Michigan. You can take the boy out of the country but you can never take the country out of the boy. Perhaps that is why he fits so well in the Gila County Sheriff's Department. While in the Army he came out to Arizona to visit some buddies and like a lot of other transplanted Arizonans, he found work and stayed here, continuing his military career at the same time by being part of the Army National Guard. His military duty has taken him through the swamps of Panama on the hunt for Noriega, the infamous leader of drug smugglers. With little thought to his own comfort, his personal gear consisted of many changes of socks and some MRE's. The rest were supplies used to carry out his job caring for others as Medic. The stories of his tours are unassuming but exhibit his leadership ability and compassion for the men in his command. He is tough but caring and being a true military hero, his men's safety is always most important. Two tours of duty to Iraq have taken him crisscross the whole country delivering everything from heavy equipment to bottled water. Rod is very proud of the schools built for the kids and the use of Saddam's confiscated money to supply these schools.

While a Deputy with Gila County, his truck driving skills have allowed many of Tonto Rim's people to be trained on the military deuce and a half truck. If you cannot imagine why you would need to drive this slow moving behemoth, hang around a while. It is great for going over rocks cross country, moving men and supplies. Old timers will remember the five-ton military truck on Dead Man's Mesa during the search for the lost bow-hunter. Well, that driver was Rod Cronk! If a time of serious flooding happens, this will become a very valuable rescue tool. The search out at Haigler Creek this summer was cut short by some good old country boy tracking, learned as a kid, hunting deer. Rod Cronk was the one who quickly lead the searchers to the subject.

I really hope that Sheriff John and his administrative team see these qualities and send Deputy Rodney Cronk through the Search Coordinators Training School. Gila County will be a better place with help from this level headed smart thinking man in Command. He has had some good mentoring with Sgt. Hudgens and Lt. Shepard as leaders.

…THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE

Member Profile by Tim Somsen

LES CONNER #551

Les came to Payson in November of 2003 from San Diego. He retired 7 years ago but was drawn here for the outdoor opportunities - hiking, hunting & fishing. Search & Rescue just seemed like an extension of his person.

Les started out in Oregon as a child then attended high school in Big Spring, Texas which is in West Texas. He joined the Navy at age 17 to see the world and spent his whole time in San Diego! They trained him to be an Operating Room Technician. While working at the base hospital he met and married his wife, Phyllis, who was a Navy Lt.

When he left the Navy, an OR Tech didn't make much so he was thinking of going back to Texas when opportunity knocked. A neighbor, who was a Deputy Sheriff, told him the judicial courts were looking to hire Marshals. Well, he started out as a Deputy and 33 years later was the man in charge. As a marshal of court the he dealt with all aspects of court enforcement: escort prisoners to and from court; serve court papers, civil and criminal, like summons or restraining orders; and travel out of state for prisoner retrievals, to name a few.

Retirement has been anything but idle. He has been able to travel to hunt dove, quail, pheasant, deer and elk. Six years ago he took up archery and now travels around a few state area and competes. He didn't brag about winning but I gather he can hold his own with the rest. Their shoots are usually 3-D targets. He is now gearing up for the November hunt in 5-B where he got drawn for bull elk. As for fishing, Les like to go up into the rim lakes and try his luck. He is still exploring for more places to wet a line. He uses his motor home for hunting and the archery shoots. His wife goes with him on all his outings. He has two daughters and 5 grandchildren.

THE END IS NEAR!
FUNDRAISING

The final event of the 2004 raffle will be at the Pine/Strawberry Arts & Crafts Show on September 4th and 5th with the Grand Prize Drawing at 2 PM on Sunday the 5th.

Website

www.trsar.org

Most of the Archives of past Newsletters have been posted on the website for your perusal. Please look them over. Due to the various methods of printing and storing them in the past, some are a little distorted. And there are a few issues missing. If you have any saved that don't appear on the site, please share them with Mike at

Tonto Rim SAR Members can now have your very own email address through our site. Just contact our , no cost to you or us.


And we are promoted here, the Rim Country Volunteer site; http://www.inpayson.com/
These folks are doing a terrific job of promoting all the various volunteer organizations under the Rim.

Sept 2004 Training Schedule