A woman who slipped 900 feet down Mount Hood and fell into a crevasse was rescued with help from a Kirkland charity organization that witnessed the fall, according to several accounts of the incident.
Jeremy Vallerand was among those on the mountain that rushed to her aid.
“She hits the rocks, what appeared to be head-first,” said Vallerand. “Flips over and then straight down into a fumarole.”
A fumarole is a volcanic steam vent that emits poisonous sulfuric gas. Vallerand and other witnesses assumed if the fall didn’t kill her, the toxic fumes certainly would.
Vallerand is the founder of Rescue: Freedom International. He says, over the last 14 years, the nonprofit has raised over $2 million to fight human trafficking. A large portion of that money is generated during their “Climb for Captives” events. They were on Mount Hood, nearing the end of one of those fundraising climbs, when the woman lost her footing.
According to Michael McAnally Baum, who summited with the group, the climbers were roping up for the final push when they saw a “black dot” sliding down the summit.
Baum posted online that after the woman lost her footing and her ice ax, she slid 900 feet, picking up speed and flipping, eventually crashing into rocks and into a fumarole.
According to Dan Lao, who was also with the group, the woman fell and tumbled for about 25 seconds.
Climber and Rescue: Freedom International employee, Josh Hebert says they were in a particularly treacherous part of the climb called The Hogsback.
“There’s a ridge that runs through these rocks you have to climb through to get to the summit,” said Hebert.
The climbers that witnessed the woman fall into the fumarole immediately sprang into action.
According to Lao, several climbers made their way toward the fumarole with the uncomfortable feeling that what they witnessed was fatal.
According to Baum, the group approached the vent and after calling out for a few minutes, they heard a small voice calling out from the darkness.
According to Lao, he couldn’t understand the words, but all he knew was the sound meant life.
Baum posted that the group assembled an elaborate pulley system with their ropes to pull her up.
They slowly pulled her out of the abyss, where she sustained only minor injuries.
“For us, it was an insane series of miracles,” said Vallerand.
According to the Clackamas County Sheriff’s Office, the climbers called 911, and the climbers provided medical care until rescue crews sent an Oregon Army National Guard helicopter to airlift her from the mountain.
The 31-year-old woman was airlifted to a Portland-area hospital.
As of Monday afternoon, the Mount Hood’s Climb for Captives fundraiser has raised $147,100 of its $200,000 goal. Donations are still being accepted here.
A doctor who was climbing with Rescue: Freedom International sent KIRO 7 this exclusive first-hand experience of the incident:
Friday, June 24, 2022. It’s a day I will never forget.
My day started at midnight, which actually still felt similar to the previous two days. Two nights prior, I had spent the entire night in the operating room providing anesthesia for appendicitis patients and a man whose ear needed to be sewn back on. But on Friday at midnight, I woke up in a bunk bed that was about the same length as me, in the rustic Silcox Hut on the side of Mount Hood. At this point, I had slept about three hours, which was the same as the rest of our 12-person crew. We had decided to climb Mount. Hood for a cause, a cause that is prevalent in every society but something that most of us tend to either be naive about or ignore, — a cause called human trafficking.
Climb for Captives was founded in 2008 after a man named Jeremy Vallerand, the CEO of Rescue: Freedom International, took a trip to India and was exposed for the first time to the shocking realities of modern-day slavery. He had plans after his return home to climb Mount Rainier and was overwhelmed with the desire to use the climb as a way to raise funds for the victims of human trafficking. Vallerand, his climbing partner Josh Hebert, and a group of friends then founded Climb for Captives. That Rainier climb was the first of many Climb for Captives fundraisers.
Fast forward to 2022 — I am part of a team of climbers who have been raising funds and awareness of this worldwide tragedy on human life. On the day of the climb, we are all exhausted but full of anticipation. Some of this anticipation is nervousness, alongside doubts of, “Can I make it up this mountain? Will I be the weak link that makes us turn back?” For the women in the group, many were thinking, “How many times am I going to have to drop my pants and pee on the mountain?”
At midnight, we had about an hour to get ready. We put on our layers and our stiff climbing boots, followed by a harness, crampons, ice axe, and a pack. After a small breakfast, we made our way out of the hut into the darkness, biting wind, and hard-packed snow. At this time, the group was checking harnesses and crampons when we noticed two other climbers, one of whom was a woman who was asking if she could use our bathroom in the hut. The women in our group understood and said, “Of course!” Then suddenly, we were ready to go — we said a quick prayer as a group and the climb commenced.
Starting the climb at midnight meant hard-packed snow that is easier to walk on but it also means no light. Thus, each climber was equipped with a headlight. For the first few hours, we focused on simply moving one foot in front of the other. This meant a monotonous, continuous plodding up a steep hill with only the noise of the crampons crunching and our own thoughts to keep us company.
After about a 1500-foot elevation gain, we reached the end of a ski chair lift — which we weren’t allowed to ride up, unfortunately. At that point, it was our second very long and unexpected pit stop in order to address some already forming blisters on a climber’s feet. This was precious time that can sometimes be dangerous to climbers — once you stop moving, it is very easy to get cold! Additionally, while we were fixing the climber’s blisters, the climbers who had stopped to use our bathroom passed us, a fact that I assume was very frustrating to our team leaders.
With the blisters bandaged, we continued our journey step-by-step up the steep mountain in the dark. I’m not sure what the other climbers were thinking about during that time. But I am absolutely positive that nobody was mulling over the same thoughts as I was was. Being an anesthesiologist is all about being prepared for any patient, at any time, with any existing medical condition, with any trauma or new medical problem — literally anybody can walk through the door and need a breathing tube or a surgery. So during our slow step-by-step climb, I was legitimately thinking about what could go wrong at that moment and what I was going to be able to do about it! My thoughts rambled over accidental ice axe stabbing scenarios, crampons slicing through someone’s artery, tourniquets, zip ties, among other scenarios, and how I was going to get help to us as quickly as possible. Thankfully, none of these so-called plans in my head were necessary and we simply continued to climb.
At about 5:30 a.m., after 4.5 hours of climbing, we ascended to Hogsback, a point on the mountain that is about 900 feet below the summit and at the bottom of a steep stretch called the Pearly Gates. It was here that we paused to prepare our ropes and pickets for the final ascent (pickets are devices that you hammer into the snow and clip your rope into in case of a fall). Mount Hood can be an interesting mountain for alpine climbers because it can be quite deceiving. Up until this point, all we needed to get to our location was some winter clothing, some crampons, and enough muscle to propel us up a steep mountain. If we compare this to many other alpine climbing experiences, climbers would have required harnesses and be roped to their teammates for the entire climb. It was at this point — this very steep point — where we were all gazing almost straight up toward the summit, that it became clear to me that, “Yes, ropes would be very nice at this moment.”
So we paused at Hogsback to get the ropes out; our Climb for Captives team leaders Jeremy Vallerand, Josh Hebert, and Dan Lao tied the knots and we started to clip in. And then it happened. We saw a person, a human, falling from just below the summit! At first, she was just sliding down the mountain path, slowly and more than 900 feet from us so it was difficult to gauge her speed. But then she started to go faster! She swept past the other climbers and then she fell off the path. It was at this point, on snow that was smooth, very steep, and not packed by crampon prints, that she gained speed to an unstoppable point. Some of us tried to shout helpful instructions but most of us held our breath in shock — it was in a surreal moment that we thought could not be happening in front of us. As the anatomy of the mountain funneled her toward certain doom, she ended her fall with a tumble onto a snow ledge, then a rock wall, and then down into a massive fumarole (anywhere from 20-50 feet down)! For those who don’t know, a fumarole is a volcano vent, similar to a crevasse, but frequently lined with rock or snow AND with noxious sulfuric gas constantly pumping out.
At this moment, there was no question about what we had to do — we had to rescue her! There was zero hesitation from our leaders — our climb to the top was over and this was our new priority. Jeremy quickly called everyone off the ropes except for himself, Josh, Dan and the doctor — me! We rushed down to the left side of the hole, climbed up onto some exposed rock and called out for the climber, “Can you hear us? Are you there?” There was no response. At this moment, I was sure that the climber was already deceased or had disappeared, meaning she could have continued down under the snow bank and deeper down the mountain, deeper than we could ever see or go. In our positions, we could not see the climber, or even into the hole, so we started to move around to the other side. When we were about halfway around, we suddenly heard a woman’s voice saying, “Can you hear me?” She was alive! Even the rest of our team over 100 feet away could hear that still small voice. “Yes, we can hear you!” we called out. Against all odds and all of our fears, the climber was alive.
We quickly completed our traverse to the other side of the fumarole and began setting up both an anchor system for Jeremy — in case he needed to rappel into the fumarole — as well as a z-pulley system for hoisting out the injured climber. Throughout this time, we continued to talk to the climber. At some point, Jeremy asked, “are you injured” and she replied “yes”, to which I shouted “are there any bones sticking out”, but this question got no response.
Eventually, our team grew to include some other climbers from our group, as well as a climber named Mike who also had some search and rescue training. After getting the equipment set up, the team had Jeremy anchored and perched across a crevasse and on the side of the snow ledge that was leading into the fumarole. However, it was not possible to see the climber and her injuries. It is worth mentioning that this action was definitely not without risk! At this moment, Jeremy was being belayed by Josh but he was perched on the side of a potentially unstable snow ledge above a hole that was emanating noxious gases (in previous rescue attempts, some rescuers had passed out from the gases, which then lead to two people needing to be rescued). At this point, Jeremy threw a rope blindly down into the hole. Miraculously, the rope was dangled only a few feet above the injured climber. “Only a few more feet and I will be able to reach it,” she said. A sling was lowered and she was physically able to get the sling over her shoulders and around under her armpits. Then a z-pulley was used — Mike and my husband Brendan used the pulley system to start hoisting her out of the hole. Once she was at the edge of the hole, Jeremy was able to grab her and her backpack but then one of her arms slipped out of the sling, resulting in a very precarious situation that could have led to another fall. Jeremy was able to clip an additional line into her backpack and around her waist. With assistance from Brendan on the pulley and Dan also at the edge, the team was able to safely pull the climber out of the fumarole!
Ultimately, the climber’s extraction from the hole took about 45 minutes from the time of the fall. During this time, I was roped into the extraction team and sat off to the edge of the fumarole, in theory out of harm’s way but immediately available to help. Once it was clear that we would be able to get the climber out of the hole, I climbed down about 100 feet off the steep slope to a flat area about 15 feet wide (with another steep slope below leading into yet another fumarole). Once the climber was out of the hole, four people helped carry her down the steep slope to where I was waiting to examine her.
Our team has had so many conversations about this event and I definitely cannot speak to the emotions of everyone involved. However, I can say that even after pulling her out of the hole, some of us thought the climber was still going to die on that mountain, and that unfortunately, we were all going to sit there and watch that happen. Yet for some reason when I personally saw her come out of that hole, I had hope! Out of everyone on that mountain, I probably should have been the biggest pessimist (or realist as my husband would say) due to my experience in medicine and trauma. Yet I had hope!
As I watched her being brought down the mountain toward me, I began my initial assessment. She was still wearing a backpack and a helmet but was missing her gloves and her left boot. Thankfully, I saw no bones sticking out and that she was not bleeding significantly. Once she arrived, I introduced myself and told her I was going to examine her for any injuries. I started by looking at her arms, one of which had her sleeve rolled up and a large road rash-type abrasion. But there were no broken bones. I moved to her legs and felt each leg for any injuries — still no broken bones. We removed her wet sock on her left foot and wrapped it in a hat and a down jacket. I moved on to her abdomen and asked her if she had any pain with the pressure of my hands — nothing. We took off the helmet and I examined her head — no bleeding, no pain. I asked her to open her eyes and examined her face — there was some minor areas of dried blood and a swollen lip. Then I paused, almost in stunned amazement that I had not found anything significant. Finally, I asked her skeptically, “do you have any pain?” “Yes,” she said. “Where is your pain?” I asked. “Just my left foot, it is very cold,” she responded. And that was it.
At that point, I remember looking around at the team and thinking, “This is impossible”. I informed the team that I had found nothing serious and everyone else was equally taken aback. There was seemingly no way that we had witnessed someone tumble 900 feet through the snow, hit a rock wall, bounce into a huge hole and not come out seriously harmed. I then told the team that our job now was to keep her as warm as possible and to get help as fast as possible! By this time, it was about 6:30 a.m. and the sun had still not hit the south side of the mountain. I do not know what temperature it was but it was definitely cold! As I mentioned before, it is very easy for climbers to get cold when they stop moving on the mountain, and our injured climber had spent 45 minutes with no left boot and was now lying on the cold snow.
Throughout this process, the rescue team grew and eventually comprised many individuals who were not a part of our Climb for Captives group. The team included Mike (mentioned before — he helped with the rescue, as well as with communicating with the sheriff and search and rescue); two ER nurses, Alicia and Nathan (who provided invaluable help in taking intermittent vitals and also communicating with search and rescue); her two climbing partners (her boyfriend and another friend); and multiple individual climbers who just wanted to help. These climbers included some people who had witnessed the injured climber sliding past them during her fall — they had turned around to help, even though they were only a mere 200-300 feet beneath the summit!
All of these individuals were gathered around when I declared the climber relatively injury-free and noted that our new goal was to keep her warm. One of the ER nurses, Alicia, had two disposable bivvy sacks (basically foil-lined sacks intended to keep you warm) that we placed the patient inside of, like a sleeping bag. Multiple people gave up hats, gloves, and down jackets that we put inside of her coat and inside the bivvy sacks. We put new gloves on her hands with new hand warmers inside. Two people then snuggled up beside her at all times for additional body heat. And then we waited...
We waited for about four hours before the search-and-rescue team was able to mobilize and climb up the mountain to our location. This was definitely not an unreasonable time and in no way implies that they did not move efficiently. We were at 10,600 feet of elevation and that is difficult to get to quickly! Throughout the waiting, two people constantly laid next to the climber, to provide additional body heat, and another individual sat by the climber’s feet, holding down additional foil-lined warmers to keep her feet warm in the wind. We also were in constant communication with the sheriff, who was relaying medical information to the rescue team. Unfortunately, the location of the rescue occurred in a bowl between multiple peaks and so cell service was not achievable at the site. To enable communication, multiple team members (mainly Mike, Brendan, Alicia, and Nathan) had to hike in and out of the bowl to communicate with ground crew on the rescue effort.
At around 8 a.m., the sun finally hit our location on the snowy ground and with it came warmth and comfort. The injured climber finally started to feel warmth in both her feet and hands. The color in her face returned and she no longer looked pale or in shock. Eventually, her sense of humor shone brightly when I asked, “how are you doing” and she said, “I think I’m ready to summit!” Throughout the entire time that we waited, I regularly asked her whether she had any new pain and the answer was always miraculously, “no!”
Eventually, search and rescue joined us, provided additional warming blankets, and also found no serious injuries after they examined the climber. After returning most of the coats and hats and gloves to those around us, our entire team was dispersed so the team could prepare for a helicopter evacuation. It was now about 11 a.m. and the climber was finally on her way to the hospital. At that moment, there was some relief — however, our team had now been up since midnight, climbing since 1 a.m., and standing still in the cold since 6 a.m.. And now we still had to climb back down another 3500 feet. I’m not going to lie — I was really hoping to get a ride on that helicopter!
To cut a very long story short, I believe we all witnessed a miracle that day. Not only did the climber survive without serious injury, but our team was in exactly the right place, at the right time, AND also had the right equipment and skills to rescue her. Had our team not made the multiple stops for blisters, we would have been too high on the mountain to even see her fall! Even more amazing, the injured climber is the woman whom we met at the beginning of our day, who asked to use our bathroom! We started ahead of her on the mountain and ended up behind her just enough to be in the perfect place, at the perfect time.
At our team dinner the night before our climb, we had discussed as a group what this climb meant to us and the many reasons that had brought us together as a group. My favorite reason was this — we are choosing to do a hard thing, this difficult thing of climbing a mountain. But our pain and our “suffering” is temporary. And more importantly, it is voluntary! We are doing this because there are human trafficking victims out there who do much more difficult things than this every single minute and every single day of their lives. And the fact is, those things are NOT voluntary — they are forced into it, often with no way out, and that is not OK. And that was what we meant to declare with our climb up a mountain.
So we definitely did something hard that day. But we also saved someone’s life. It may be hard to have conversations about human trafficking and hard to make choices that don’t support the industry, but is it worth it if it saves someone’s life? And what if that life you’ve saved goes on to save another?
Ultimately, the climber whom we saved from a toxic volcano vent, went home from the hospital that same day. She left the hospital with a minor pelvic fracture that did not need surgery and she walked out of the hospital on her own two feet. Let this be a metaphor for the work that Rescue: Freedom International is doing. We can play a part in helping women and children walk away from human trafficking and modern-day slavery. Please consider being a part of this movement that is literally saving lives, both on and off the mountain.
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