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 For those that are unaware, on the utility side of the helicopter industry the mechanic is in most cases also the load rigger, the truck driver, the fueler, and even the auto pilot on log ferry flights. This is a short story about one of these adventures that took place fairly early in my career. 

 In mid December of 1982, I went on a job to recover the parts of a crashed fixed wing from the back side of the Spring Mountains not too far out of Las Vegas, Nevada. The twin engine piper had plowed in to the steep western face of the highest peak in the range about 1000 feet below the summit and then slid several hundred more feet down before coming to rest just inside the top of the tree-line.

 We were hired for the recovery by the estate of the Pilot killed in the crash. It seemed that the life insurance company was claiming that it didn’t need to pay off on the rather large policy because of some loop hole or another that could be closed by reassembling the aircraft for examination.

Only one pilot and myself went on the job that was supposed to be a one day thing, with ten to twelve loads coming off the mountain to retrieve what was left of the fixed wing. I would be in charge of rigging the loads and I was accompanied by two other guys, one of which represented the estate of the late pilot and one from the insurance company.

 The only spot on the mountain where there was a large enough place to set down, let us out and unload the sling gear and net was a small alpine meadow about twenty feet in diameter and about twenty five feet below and to the south of the peak. From this vantage point you could see for a hundred miles and for about 270 degrees.

 It took us about an hour and a half to hike down the mountain to the crash site with the gear and get set up for the first load. We had told the pilot to give us two hours and he showed up right on schedule. The rest of the day went well.  I was able to pack up all of the wreckage into twelve loads that were within a manageable weight for the Bell 206L1. As the day went on the work made us warm even though we were working at over ten thousand feet in the middle of December, the afternoon sun made it almost pleasant and by the time the last load was being hooked onto the hundred foot long line under the ship we all three stuffed  our heavy coats that we had started the day with into the last net with all the rest of the airplane scraps and the remaining  unused sling gear.

 By the time we started our hike back up the mountain the wind was starting to come up and it was already getting dark in the valley below us but at our altitude the light hung in for at least another hour as we struggled back up to the little meadow where we had been dropped off that morning.

 The entire top of the mountain was covered with snow and we had been working in it all day but we had not really noticed the cold until we were back at extraction site at 11,500 feet standing around waiting for the ship to come back and get us. The wind was refreshing , the temp was dropping and it was getting dark. The view of the lights of Las Vegas from this vantage was unforgettable. We had all sent our heavy coats back down the mountain so that we would not have to carry them. And all we were wearing were hooded sweat shirts over our coveralls and I don’t know about the other two guys but I was also sporting long johns under everything.

Just before it was totally dark we admitted that there was something very wrong and the ship should have long since been there to get us. We began digging a sort of foxhole in the snow and piling the snow removed from the center up around the edges in an attempt to shield ourselves from the wind that was now blowing at least twenty knots. We soon had a small hole down in the snow about five feet deep and when you knelt down the majority of the wind passed over the top with only an occasional eddies into our little alcove.

 Human nature being what it is we began speculating on what had occurred to prevent the pilot from returning to take us down off the mountain. There were a few other people who knew where we were working and I told my companions that I had a few friends in the Vegas valley with ships that could get to us and that someone would be showing up and that we would not be left on this mountain all night, it had not dawned on us yet that we probably would not make it through the night.

 As the night wore on and we got colder and colder I was explaining to my companions that the local search and rescue which was part of the police department operated a Hughes 500C which could not get to us at the altitude we were at and that the most logical ship to come after us was a friend Paul who flew an AS355 twinstar for the local EMS contract so we sat and waited.

 About midnight the realization set in that we were freezing to death. None of us could feel our extremities’ and we were getting very sleepy. We made a promise to keep each other awake as long as we could. We had run out of both small talk and the energy to keep shouting above the wind. We each gave the others messages for our families just in case.

 About one o’clock in the morning we heard a little noise above the howling of the wind and we got very still and strained to make sure that it was real. Then again we heard a little buzzing sound off in the distance.

 We clamored out of our hole and over the screaming wind you could distinctly make out the sound of a Hughes 500 somewhere down range. We could not see it but the sound was unmistakable. One of the guys that I was with remembered his camera and he pulled it out and snapped off a shot so the flash reflected off the snow. Between the reflection and the blowing snow the whole top of the mountain lit up, and the little buzzing in the distance suddenly changed pitch and began getting closer.

About two minutes later the little red & white 500C from the police department passed 30 feet over our heads and orbited back to a descending approach into the wind. As we got to the helicopter the copilot told us that they could only take one at a time so we helped the one that was the worst off into the ship and closed the door.  The little ship sort of half slid half bounced across the meadow and off the west side, in a sprint for the valley floor.

 Within ten minutes the helicopter was back and repeated the same flight path into our little meadow. My extra layer of padding that I have tended to carry most of my life had left me in a little better shape than the other guy that was with me so I helped him into the ship and it was off again, only to return a few minutes later to get me.

 As I climbed into the back of the little ship I recognized the pilot as a friend and yelled over the noise as we bounced towards the edge, what took you guys so long? The pilot answered they had been at the scene of a helicopter crash since just before sundown about sixty miles south of our current location.

As we fell towards the valley floor I yelled why didn’t Paul come in the twinstar? And the copilot answered back that is who was in the crash we were at!

 There was a medic on the scene at the spot where the helicopter dropped me off who checked over all three of us and sent the other two guys to the hospital for observation.  However, he told me that my extra layer of spare tire had helped to insulate me and maintain my core temp and said all I needed was to warm up slowly. He gave me a ride into the thriving metropolis of Pahrump, Nevada to the motel where the pilot from my company was waiting in the bar.

 The company pilot explained that after the wind started to strengthen he was unsure of his skill to get into the spot and get us out. I was furious and the next day I flew home and would not let him touch the controls.  But, as the years have gone by and I look back, I find that I am not as critical that he recognized his limitations and made the decision not to risk killing us all in a fiery crash. I also learned not to underestimate a lesser machine in the hands of a superior pilot.

 As a note, to this day I am still friends with the Pilot, Co-pilot & Medic from that night.