Responding to Accidents and Trauma

By R. Kern

The summer of 2019 saw two accidents at Pine Mountain, Oregon with one thing in common; in both instances the pilot was not attached to their glider. One accident led to a brief hospital visit and the other accident was fatal. It is the later accident and the lingering trauma that this article stems from with the hope of sharing a few lessons learned about responding to an incident, being prepared, and coping with trauma.

What exactly happened at Pine Mountain cannot be said, at least not by the pilots that were there. We can't say, because we don't really know, beyond a doubt, the entirety of what was going on for the deceased pilot. While this is a hardened and possibly frustrating reality, it does not take away from what lessons can be learned from this accident, or any other accident or event looked at with an open mind. Perhaps one additional facet of not knowing what exactly happened is that we are provided with more chances to ponder multiple possibilities of what can go wrong, each with their own unique lessons. Moreover, since we can’t say for certain what happened this article will largely avoid causation or details.

What can be said is that the wind speed that August evening was above average operating speed while still affording penetration at trim. North westerly gusts ramped up slowly rhythmically maintaining for a while, then gently retreating. Ridge lift was steady with buoyant air extended into the upwind valley. A few valley thermals could be found supporting 3m/s climbs with one pilot ascending past 8000’ (3000’ above ground level), undoubtedly on their way to the moon. The nine pilots on site were in for a regular treat of epic glass-off at Pine Mountain.

When the accident happened, the eight remaining pilots spared no effort and did not waste any time responding. Immediately, a radio transmission alerted all pilots on site, and pilots on the ground promptly attended the scene and began administering basic life support. Within seconds, emergency services were contacted, and medical services were dispatched via air and ground. Utilizing big-ears, stalls and spirals, airborne pilots safely made their way to the ground. Back on the ground, one pilot made their way to the highway to direct emergency teams to the flying site while others removed abandoned gliders from the landing zone which could serve as a helipad. The pilots tending to the injured pilot continued their efforts alongside medical crews until efforts and training had been exhausted across multiple agencies. The entire ordeal, from the moment of onset until the Search and Rescue team departed occurred over a few short hours.

While the other pilots that were there that night would humbly disagree, their actions were commendable. They immediately acted in a sustained and coordinated effort, tending to the fallen pilot and one another while assisting emergency crews with their rescue efforts. They refrained from reacting to the situation, instead responding in whatever way they could to help. None of the pilots chose to be in that situation that evening, however they all participated in whatever way they could, doing so without hesitation. Their actions afforded the deceased pilot with a heightened chance of survival and any of us would be lucky to receive their assistance should we ever need it. Thanks guys.

So what went right? Several things increased the chances of a favorable outcome during the accident. First, the pilot was wearing a helmet. Next, pilots on the ground tended to the victim quickly and activated emergency services providing them with the information needed to come to the scene. Pilots communicated with one another and those in flight safely vacated the air using whatever decent techniques they had confidence with, without creating additional victims. The pilot who went to the highway to escort emergency crews to the flying site expedited their arrival via ground, and the pilots who cleared a possible helipad reduced additional clutter and chaos at the scene (eventually 9 emergency vehicles were at the site). The pilots that continued to administer aid alongside the air medics allowed the medics to focus on more advanced life saving measures.

And what can we all do to better prepare for, and respond to incidents? First Aid and CPR classes are commonplace, and something for anyone engaged in outdoor recreation: it’s the bare minimum. Wilderness First Responder certifications require more resources to attain, both time and capital, but the knowledge and skills obtained can be extremely valuable when help may be hours away. Clear communication with one another and external services can’t be overstated. Remaining calm and avoiding creating additional victims is critical, get out of the air safely. If you don’t have training and skills, ask yourself what you can do to be helpful. Ask yourself what you will do to remain calm and respond if something goes wrong. Beyond the above, consider your flying sites; how have emergencies been handled in the past? Does your club share their risk mitigation plan with its members? Do you agree with the plans? Can they be improved? Yes, often times calling 9-1-1 is the plan. Lastly, recognize that you might not be at the accident, but you may still be able to help a friend and fellow pilot after the fact.

So, what was it like? It was horrific. When the call came across the radio that there had been an accident the feeling of pure bliss from the evening was mercilessly consumed by adrenaline. Hearing my heart rate increase, noticing my muscles tense up, and feeling powerless so high up threatened to become deafening. I knew I needed to respond, but how? For whatever reason, I tend towards focus when things go really wrong. My response pattern was to assess the situation, set a task, work to complete the task, and repeat. So, I concentrated on my first task, rhythmic breathing while landing as quickly as I safely could. Once on the ground, I made an assessment and made my way to the injured pilot to give what assistance I could to him, and the pilots already on scene. While attending to the injured pilot, gruesome experiences were mentally noted, but not felt or dwelt on. Time dilated as we worked together, tirelessly, until the multiple agencies had arrived, established themselves, worked with us, and then fully taken over. After the accident, the remaining pilots comforted one another in the landing zone, sharing our thoughts, exchanging eye contact and plenty of hugs. Eventually, a calm exhaustion sank in as the stars came up over the mountain and the last of the nine sets of tail lights faded from the valley.

Accidents can create strong internal responses, and although an accident is typically thought of as an acute event, manifestations of these experiences can linger. The next day, a surreal mental fog surrendered to overwhelming sadness and heavy tears for the multiple pilots we all lost in 2019, and for the friends and families they left behind. As a reminder o why I fly, I sticker-ed a smiley face to the underside of my wing and went flying. 

The flight the evening after the accident was confidently intentioned and inspiringly full of gratitude for life, and the perspective our sport can provide. Despite flying’s powerful medicine, my processing of the event was not over. Over the next few weeks, the notable moments of trauma that had been noted but not felt surfaced in relentless waves. The horrid images of the evening would shear into the present, interrupting work, stalling remedial tasks, and curtailing shared moments with friends. The grisly sounds heard at the scene, the tactile nature of the event, and the jarring visuals all made non-linear appearances at random. Throughout the days and weeks that followed I would find myself back at the scene, vividly hearing the sounds, seeing the pain and sadness in my fellow pilots eyes, all the while feeling powerless against the sensations. My heart rate would increase, breathing became shallow, and thoughts derailed and vanished. It sucked, and in a large way was harder than the accident itself.

Apparently, depending on how it is responded to, trauma can act as a catalyst for psychological regression or heightened functioning. This actually affords those exposed to trauma with an opportunity to grow. Assuming we prefer heightened functioning and are not interested in regression, there are several things we can do to help foster this posttraumatic growth. Honest communication with yourself and others who you trust (who’s only job is to listen) is remarkably helpful. Nourishing foods, exercise, being in nature, time, and being kind to oneself also aids healing. Avoiding the thoughts and feelings with numbing agents just plain doesn’t help foster growth. Nothing beats friends, family, and fellow pilots reaching out to chat and of course, for those who are ready, going flying. While everyone’s path to growth might look different, what seems certain is that an active approach is required. For some, that might be one small task daily aimed at self care, for others it might mean seeking professional help.

 Connect with me at Ryan Kern
I'd love to hear about opportunities to collaborate, adventure spots and/or salsa recipes.

© Copyright. All rights reserved.