The volunteers of Kerry Mountain Rescue Team have been performing perilous missions for 40 years now - without so much as adequate insurance, writes John O'Dwyer.
It's a bright evening and we are descending beside a waterfall on the way from Carrantuohill summit. Above the noise of the rapids comes what appears to be a low whistle. We listen and there is no mistake. Somebody is whistling urgently - but what does this mean? We move away from the waterfall and there is no doubt. Three long and three short blasts are being repeated in succession - somebody is in trouble above us.
We whistle back "message understood" and begin climbing upwards. Eventually two cragfast climbers appear several hundred feet above on "Primroses Ridge", which by common consent is the most difficult route on Carrantuohill. One of the climbers shouts that his companion has been hit by a rockfall and is unconscious. This is bad news, but nothing can be done. We have no way of climbing the sheer rock-face, and even if we had, it is clearly impossible to get the casualty down. Professional rescue is required. We make the phone call and then settle down for what will surely be a long wait.
It isn't. In less than an hour an ancient troop carrier is trundling up the glen below us. Soon afterwards the advance party from the Kerry Mountain Rescue Team arrives, dwarfed by huge rucksacks of equipment. With practised calmness the team leaders assess the situation and decisions are quickly made. Two rescuers begin climbing towards the casualty, while the other team members prepare for a possible evacuation down a cable.
In jaw-dropping amazement, we marvel at the agility of renowned mountain rescuers Tim Long and Bernard Forde as they clamber rapidly up the cliff face. As they approach the climbers the silence is shattered by the arrival of the Shannon rescue helicopter. With advice from the team, the chopper is guided in, and then, with as daring a piece of flying as you could wish to see, the climbers are plucked from the mountainside as rotor blades whirr perilously close to the cliff face.
We have witnessed the first successful helicopter rescue from the north-east face of Carrantuohill with the result that 30 minutes later both climbers are safely in Tralee General Hospital.
As darkness descends the team members stand down and begin heading back to base, happy in the knowledge that once again it is mission successfully accomplished for the team.
How do you recognise mountain rescuers? Easy: they're the people you see heading upwards on dark, stormy evenings, when all those who can have long retired to the fireside. KMRT members are now celebrating the fact that they have been in action since 1966, when two fatal accidents on Carrantuohill made clear the need for a rescue team. The fledgling service had a baptism of fire a year later when a climber was injured in Collin's Gully on Carrantuohill. In those early days volunteers had no specialised training in rescue techniques. Nevertheless, in a 19-hour ordeal the rescuers managed to evacuate the casualty to safety, in what contemporary accounts describe as appalling weather conditions.
It was to be the first of many such epic rescues for the team, which was soon providing rescue services for the entire southwest, including the rugged peninsulas of Beara, Iveragh and Dingle. This is Ireland's highest and most technical mountain terrain and is a mecca for hillwalkers. As climbers became more adventurous and daring, the consequent rescues became more complex and difficult.
Well-known Kerry mountain climber Con Moriarty, who was a member of KMRT in the 1980s, remembers an incident in February 1986 when three climbers were caught in an avalanche on the north face of Carrantuohill. According to Con, "advanced ice skills were used for the first time to evacuate the casualties". This, he believes, was a seminal time for mountain rescue in Kerry.
'IN ORDER TO fulfil our commitment to providing the best level of service possible we were forced to reassess our standards. It was now agreed that only those with pre-existing mountain skills would be recruited into KMRT. Formal training would concentrate on the transmission of mountain rescue techniques only." This has been the position ever since. All team members now undertake specialised first aid courses designed for outdoor rescue. There is also training in search management and technical rescue techniques. Volunteers are expected to maintain a high level of physical fitness and to provide much of their own protective clothing and climbing equipment. And yet according to Mike Sandover, deputy team leader with KMRT, "our service remains completely unpaid, while on the European mainland it is now almost totally professional. The voluntary commitment is huge, with team members giving an annual average of 350 unpaid hours to the cause of safer upland recreation."
In an age when voluntarism is greatly in decline this is an extraordinary commitment to an unglamorous task, much of which is dangerous, harrowing and physically demanding. Nevertheless, applications to join KMRT continue to exceed the number of places. The team consists of 35 volunteers and has been called out almost 350 times to mountain incidents, with 37 of these involving fatalities. And in all this time the team has maintained a proud record - not one person being rescued has ever suffered further injury once delivered to the care of the rescue team members.
But how do the volunteers cope when - as inevitably happens - they encounter a mountain fatality? Con Moriarty says, "Mountain falls are by their nature violent affairs and the victims are not a pretty sight, making it difficult for rescuers to maintain the emotional distance necessary to do a professional job. And this becomes almost impossible when, as sometimes happens in the small world of climbing, the victim is known to the rescuers."
Mike Sandover agrees and adds, "Such victim recoveries are by far the most traumatic for mountain rescue teams. Individual counselling is now available in such cases, and group sessions are also held where the rescuers are trained to watch for symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder."
Since its foundation, the team has remained deeply rooted within the community. Mike Sandover speaks of the special relationship it has with the local people. "When we have a long-drawn search . . . rescue operation householders inevitably throw their doors open to us. I sometimes believe there isn't a loaf or a slice of ham left in the base valley when the times comes for the team to stand down. A rescuer never goes hungry in Kerry," adds Mike.
SO IS KERRY Mountain Rescue set fair for another 40 years? Mike Sandover isn't sure. He believes insurance is now a major threat to the viability of rescue teams. "The personal accident cover we have is totally inadequate," he says. "Volunteers who suffer personal injury during a rescue cannot be adequately compensated. At present they are putting their livelihoods and that of their families at risk. We need action to stop team members mortgaging their futures in this way. Rescue teams are happy to continue offering a voluntary rescue service to the tourism industry and to all lovers of the great outdoors," concludes Mike with a shrug. "All we ask in return is adequate insurance cover."
He makes a compelling case, but somehow I can't imagine that - even in the event of government refusal to concede the required insurance - it will be possible for Mike and the team to remain at sea level if a climber is in trouble on the hills.