As a newly minted Park Ranger, I showed up at Mount Diablo with little or no confidence. I wore civilian clothes the first week until I qualified at the firing range with my pistol. The next day I showed up to work with a badge and a gun. It took a long time to get used to wearing a gun. Like any police officer my gun was loaded and cocked. It was as we call it hot, ready to fire. Police pistols do not have safetys. I had a lot to learn before I’d feel comfortable as a Ranger on Mount Diablo. I had been through the training. I graduated from the Academy right in the middle of my classmates at number 10, but the Academy was just that academic. From now on it was the real thing.
My first three months and a little more I was under the direct and constant supervision of my Field Training Officer, Cameron Mitchell, a wonderful gentleman and a very capable Ranger. The six months of the Academy were really just to prepare us for Field Training and our probationary first year. Cameron put me in situations that were very difficult but we always managed to get through it and he was always there when I got stuck. We even chased a suspect on city streets, I was driving, at speeds over a 100 mph. I still don’t think that was a good idea, but we did it.
During the field training, the Ranger running the gift shop stayed where he was. Then as I was getting ready to take his place, another Ranger transferred into Diablo and he had less Park seniority than I did. So he got the museum and gift shop. It turned out well. Vince was a good guy, put a real effort into the museum, and used it as an opportunity to learn skills that served him well when he became a supervisor.
The first weekend while patrolling Mt. Diablo I was the first on scene for the worst motorcycle accident I have ever seen. Gary had come down the mountain on a new scooter and going too fast had missed the last turn before Junction. The bike had gone into the drainage ditch beside the road and he was slammed from side to side until it came to a stop 20 yards further down.
I pulled up in my truck and went to see what we had. Gary was a mess, He was surrounded by the people from the cars that had stopped. The whole scene was chaotic. I showed up but I wasn't ready for a situation like this. The victim was unconscious and was smashed like a rag doll. People were all around him and one person seemed to know what they were doing.
I got down with the victim. Everything in me told me to run in the other direction. I had been trained but I had no experience. Only moments after I arrived Carl Nielson, a Ranger with over 20 years on the mountain, arrived on scene and we began treating Gary. And that was it, Carl got the motorcycle helmet off and his airway straightened, he inserted an oropharyngeal device, a small plastic insert that keeps the airway open and I began pumping the victim's chest. And that’s what we did, I did chest compressions, Carl did breaths with a breathing mask, an apparatus with a mouthpiece and a big blue bladder that could be squeezed for the breaths. One of the bystanders, a nurse, kept her hand on the victim’s pulse, which she told us was what my compressions were doing and nothing more.
As we were doing it, I felt lost. In my mind, I thought I was supposed to be in charge and I had no idea what to do. In hindsight, of course, Carl was there and we did what needed doing. When we started the CPR Gary’s face was a pale white and his lips were blue and with the pumping on his chest, color returned and seemed to come and go with the compressions that I was doing. Everything I had was concentrated on this human being, broken, unconscious and unable to breathe without our help. .
Other Rangers arrived on scene. The chaos around us evaporated and we were keeping Gary alive. Cameron asked if I wanted to be relieved, but I was OK, and I wanted to stay. The paramedics eventually arrived and took over from us.
They prepared a syringe and put it into his heart. It must have been some sort of adrenalin, because Gary immediately began breathing on his own and they packed him up on a gurney and transported him down to Junction where he was flown out of the Park on a helicopter.
The Highway Patrol investigates serious accidents on Mount Diablo. I picked up whatever bits of trash were still there and waited for them. After a couple of hours a patrolman arrived.
We made small talk, kidded around a little. He looked at my gun and said he felt safer being in the wild as long as I was armed. I told him it was a State Park and if he was attacked by a mountain lion, unfortunately they were protected and Highway Patrolmen weren’t. If it came down to one or the other I’d have to shoot the patrolman. He was laughing about it, but as I learned from experience most highway cops, city cops, even sheriffs are uncomfortable in the wild. The Park was our domain and our comfort there was what made us Rangers.
Afterwards I drove down the hill. I might have done a little patrol or just finished up my shift. It was the first time I experienced that sudden shift from life and death to routine that over time would become normal to me. I went home and that was it. The Rangers were tough, and I would have liked to talk to someone about it, but no one was around. It was over and we had done what we could.
On Wednesday Gary died from his injuries. I felt that I had been totally inadequate to the situation but I had shown up and I had stayed. We had done OK, everyone told us we had done good work, but I just felt devastated by the whole thing. I hadn’t known what I was doing. Carl had taken over and told me what to do. Thank god he was there.
It took weeks for me to sort it out in my own mind. I continued to show up and I continued to get the experience I needed to improve my skills. Gary’s accident was the worst accident I attended until my last summer as a Ranger at Angel Island. More about that later.
Looking back on the accident with Gary it was a major accomplishment that Gary left the Park alive. We gave the medical staff at John Muir the chance to save his life. They would have saved him if it had been possible and it wasn’t, but he was alive when we sent him to them. And I had been a part of that. No matter how unsure I was doing CPR, the timing, the number and all those details, it worked. I felt sorry for Gary, but it was apparent at the accident that alcohol had been part of it and I didn’t feel any responsibility for what Gary had done to himself.
Later in my training for EMT, the next level up, they made the macabre joke that when you needed to do CPR the victim is dead, has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing. They told us, “You can’t make it worse.”
After my baptism of fire I settled into the routine of the Park. I was on my own or at least patrolling solo in my own car. My schedule was 3 p.m. to 11 at night, Wednesday through Sunday. I worked afternoons and evenings through the weekends with Monday and Tuesday off. My shift partner was Jeremy Olsen.
Most of my shift I was by myself and handled situations on my own until Jeremy or someone else arrived. In Parks whenever we heard something happening on the radio, we all headed in that direction to give whatever assistance we could. Jeremy and I did campground patrol together most times though sometimes separately or alone. Cameron was around for advice but we didn’t work together. Gradually I became comfortable and more self reliant. Being a police officer is like riding a motorcycle. It’s easy to relax and enjoy it, but it does require always being vigilant for the unexpected.
Jeremy was three years ahead of me in being a Ranger and about 30 years younger than I am. Mount Diablo was a very competitive place. Jeremy was discounted by some for his supposed lack of skills and polish and as a newbie I didn’t really count for much either.
In fact Jeremy was a very decent man and not a bad Ranger. He was young and sometimes inconsistent. He was brash and certainly lacked polish, but he was a wonderful warm and sincere young man. And he had skills people didn’t see or appreciate. He was the best shot of all of us. He knew how to handle himself in cop judo which we called defensive tactics.
Jeremy had real courage and heart. I never regretted having Jeremy as my patrol partner. He often left me frustrated. He could be lazy, he could take a normal situation and turn it into a mess, and he could be inconsistent in on how he did things. He was out of condition and slow on his feet. When we went searching for people I was the one who went into the bush while he worked the edge.
But in every situation where I needed help, Jeremy was there. When I was in over my head on a medical or searching for someone with a gun, I knew Jeremy was there and he wasn’t going to desert me. We’d succeed together or we’d fail together and when it counted we did what needed doing.
One time we had a serious injury deep in one of the canyons. A woman had been thrown from her horse. Jeremy met me where the paved road stopped and we took off in my car. My Jeep Cherokee was better on the back country roads. We bounced down the badly pitted road into the canyon, crossing the creek over and over. We were going as fast as we could but not so fast we would break the axle. As we bounced along I looked at Jeremy and he was having as much fun as I was. I think Jeremy was the one who said, “I sure hope this lady is OK.”
We did get to her. She was in pain and we packaged her up and met a helicopter that flew her out. She was injured but like all of our patients after Gary, she survived. We did what we needed to do for her.
Jeremy eventually became a supervising Ranger. Working with Jeremy I learned how to handle all sorts of situations. We did the best we could and I learned to come back another day and try again.
After seven years as a Ranger I was tested a few times. I was fortunate; I passed. Most importantly I learned that whatever skills I had would have to do until help arrived. Like most cops I was well trained and required to keep my training current. Every situation was different and I did the best I could and for me that worked. I feel lucky but I also feel satisfied. I did what most of us do, I showed up and gave it my best shot. I retired satisfied. I had passed the test.
Other Rangers arrived on scene. The chaos around us evaporated and we were keeping Gary alive. Cameron asked if I wanted to be relieved, but I was OK, and I wanted to stay. The paramedics eventually arrived and took over from us.
They prepared a syringe and put it into his heart. It must have been some sort of adrenalin, because Gary immediately began breathing on his own and they packed him up on a gurney and transported him down to Junction where he was flown out of the Park on a helicopter.
The Highway Patrol investigates serious accidents on Mount Diablo. I picked up whatever bits of trash were still there and waited for them. After a couple of hours a patrolman arrived.
We made small talk, kidded around a little. He looked at my gun and said he felt safer being in the wild as long as I was armed. I told him it was a State Park and if he was attacked by a mountain lion, unfortunately they were protected and Highway Patrolmen weren’t. If it came down to one or the other I’d have to shoot the patrolman. He was laughing about it, but as I learned from experience most highway cops, city cops, even sheriffs are uncomfortable in the wild. The Park was our domain and our comfort there was what made us Rangers.
Afterwards I drove down the hill. I might have done a little patrol or just finished up my shift. It was the first time I experienced that sudden shift from life and death to routine that over time would become normal to me. I went home and that was it. The Rangers were tough, and I would have liked to talk to someone about it, but no one was around. It was over and we had done what we could.
On Wednesday Gary died from his injuries. I felt that I had been totally inadequate to the situation but I had shown up and I had stayed. We had done OK, everyone told us we had done good work, but I just felt devastated by the whole thing. I hadn’t known what I was doing. Carl had taken over and told me what to do. Thank god he was there.
It took weeks for me to sort it out in my own mind. I continued to show up and I continued to get the experience I needed to improve my skills. Gary’s accident was the worst accident I attended until my last summer as a Ranger at Angel Island. More about that later.
Looking back on the accident with Gary it was a major accomplishment that Gary left the Park alive. We gave the medical staff at John Muir the chance to save his life. They would have saved him if it had been possible and it wasn’t, but he was alive when we sent him to them. And I had been a part of that. No matter how unsure I was doing CPR, the timing, the number and all those details, it worked. I felt sorry for Gary, but it was apparent at the accident that alcohol had been part of it and I didn’t feel any responsibility for what Gary had done to himself.
Later in my training for EMT, the next level up, they made the macabre joke that when you needed to do CPR the victim is dead, has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing. They told us, “You can’t make it worse.”
After my baptism of fire I settled into the routine of the Park. I was on my own or at least patrolling solo in my own car. My schedule was 3 p.m. to 11 at night, Wednesday through Sunday. I worked afternoons and evenings through the weekends with Monday and Tuesday off. My shift partner was Jeremy Olsen.
Most of my shift I was by myself and handled situations on my own until Jeremy or someone else arrived. In Parks whenever we heard something happening on the radio, we all headed in that direction to give whatever assistance we could. Jeremy and I did campground patrol together most times though sometimes separately or alone. Cameron was around for advice but we didn’t work together. Gradually I became comfortable and more self reliant. Being a police officer is like riding a motorcycle. It’s easy to relax and enjoy it, but it does require always being vigilant for the unexpected.
Jeremy was three years ahead of me in being a Ranger and about 30 years younger than I am. Mount Diablo was a very competitive place. Jeremy was discounted by some for his supposed lack of skills and polish and as a newbie I didn’t really count for much either.
In fact Jeremy was a very decent man and not a bad Ranger. He was young and sometimes inconsistent. He was brash and certainly lacked polish, but he was a wonderful warm and sincere young man. And he had skills people didn’t see or appreciate. He was the best shot of all of us. He knew how to handle himself in cop judo which we called defensive tactics.
Jeremy had real courage and heart. I never regretted having Jeremy as my patrol partner. He often left me frustrated. He could be lazy, he could take a normal situation and turn it into a mess, and he could be inconsistent in on how he did things. He was out of condition and slow on his feet. When we went searching for people I was the one who went into the bush while he worked the edge.
But in every situation where I needed help, Jeremy was there. When I was in over my head on a medical or searching for someone with a gun, I knew Jeremy was there and he wasn’t going to desert me. We’d succeed together or we’d fail together and when it counted we did what needed doing.
One time we had a serious injury deep in one of the canyons. A woman had been thrown from her horse. Jeremy met me where the paved road stopped and we took off in my car. My Jeep Cherokee was better on the back country roads. We bounced down the badly pitted road into the canyon, crossing the creek over and over. We were going as fast as we could but not so fast we would break the axle. As we bounced along I looked at Jeremy and he was having as much fun as I was. I think Jeremy was the one who said, “I sure hope this lady is OK.”
We did get to her. She was in pain and we packaged her up and met a helicopter that flew her out. She was injured but like all of our patients after Gary, she survived. We did what we needed to do for her.
Jeremy eventually became a supervising Ranger. Working with Jeremy I learned how to handle all sorts of situations. We did the best we could and I learned to come back another day and try again.
After seven years as a Ranger I was tested a few times. I was fortunate; I passed. Most importantly I learned that whatever skills I had would have to do until help arrived. Like most cops I was well trained and required to keep my training current. Every situation was different and I did the best I could and for me that worked. I feel lucky but I also feel satisfied. I did what most of us do, I showed up and gave it my best shot. I retired satisfied. I had passed the test.
