coming. I would have gone up the mountain full of hope, only to see that hope dashed. Joette had also alerted major TV and print media in Prince George, Vancouver and Edmonton. A national broadcaster, CTV, planned to run the story very soon—using my photos sent by Lisa Levasseur, who had also been spreading the word. As well, Joette said, an SPCA official had apparently eaten breakfast at a local hotel and talked up the rescue to sledders at the counter, who seemed keen to volunteer.
In another note, Lisa wondered if the trench we were digging posed a hazard to sledders unaware of the rescue effort. She worried about sledders getting seriously hurt, creating a major liability issue for everyone involved. Her suggestion was to place bright marker flags on wire, flagging tape and danger signs along the entire length of the trench. I questioned whether the risk was real. The horses were in a steep and heavily treed location; only the most reckless recreational sledders would go in there. Rescuers had tried describing the terrain to others back down in the valley, but you really had to see it to truly understand it.
Emails and phone calls from people offering help poured in all evening. I sought advice on handling volunteers from Rick Maitland, who had many practical suggestions: how publicizing photographs of the horses can stir involvement, how a nurse or
ambulance worker at the base of the mountain could be useful, how the sledding community was key to the rescue. “PLEASE USE THE MEDIA!” Rick wrote, using capital letters to drive home the point. “Contact all of them. Put a plea out for help. Let’s make this truly a Christmas gift to remember—a gift of life! The media is what is going to bring the volunteer helpers out. . . . MOST OF ALL, DON’T GIVE UP.”
That evening, I checked the sledders’ forum to see what people were saying about the rescue. Some correspondents worried that the trench was too narrow; one or two again argued that the money being spent on the rescue should instead go to charity. Many others were brimming with ideas: putting homemade plywood snowshoes on the horses, packing down a trail with sleds, hauling the horses out on a skimmer, using the groomer to break a trail, pulling a trailer behind the groomer, and clearing the trail with snow blowers. One correspondent wondered if we could put water on the snow to make a narrow path of ice before laying down a series of trailer mats for the horses to walk on, with the last mat being brought to the front as the horse walked over the one behind. Another suggested tying the horses to a platform of old mattresses overtop heavy plywood. Rick Maitland proposed getting a bobcat, cat or backhoe up to the logging road and digging from that end. He was not the only one suggesting the use of heavy equipment,
but unfortunately, as I knew from being up there, the steep terrain and deep snow—snow that due to the extreme cold would not pack down—made that option impossible.
This kind of brainstorming offered a measure of the widespread concern in the community—and indeed, across the nation—for the horses. Although most of these ideas had already been voiced by the volunteers actively involved in the rescue—again, one had to be on the mountain to understand what we were up against—the moral support, the keen interest that so many people took, was heartening.
A McBride horsewoman (recovering from surgery and unable to help with digging) offered to provide stabling, feed, hay, medications, horse supplies and doctoring for the horses if needed. A horsewoman from Valemount spent several hours going from business to business putting up Lisa’s flyers, and Marc put flyers up all over Jasper. A growing number of people in the Robson Valley and beyond were now working behind the scenes.
Four days before Christmas, the weather warmed up somewhat. It was still cold, but probably ten degrees warmer than the day before.
Over breakfast, I read an email
In another note, Lisa wondered if the trench we were digging posed a hazard to sledders unaware of the rescue effort. She worried about sledders getting seriously hurt, creating a major liability issue for everyone involved. Her suggestion was to place bright marker flags on wire, flagging tape and danger signs along the entire length of the trench. I questioned whether the risk was real. The horses were in a steep and heavily treed location; only the most reckless recreational sledders would go in there. Rescuers had tried describing the terrain to others back down in the valley, but you really had to see it to truly understand it.
Emails and phone calls from people offering help poured in all evening. I sought advice on handling volunteers from Rick Maitland, who had many practical suggestions: how publicizing photographs of the horses can stir involvement, how a nurse or
ambulance worker at the base of the mountain could be useful, how the sledding community was key to the rescue. “PLEASE USE THE MEDIA!” Rick wrote, using capital letters to drive home the point. “Contact all of them. Put a plea out for help. Let’s make this truly a Christmas gift to remember—a gift of life! The media is what is going to bring the volunteer helpers out. . . . MOST OF ALL, DON’T GIVE UP.”
That evening, I checked the sledders’ forum to see what people were saying about the rescue. Some correspondents worried that the trench was too narrow; one or two again argued that the money being spent on the rescue should instead go to charity. Many others were brimming with ideas: putting homemade plywood snowshoes on the horses, packing down a trail with sleds, hauling the horses out on a skimmer, using the groomer to break a trail, pulling a trailer behind the groomer, and clearing the trail with snow blowers. One correspondent wondered if we could put water on the snow to make a narrow path of ice before laying down a series of trailer mats for the horses to walk on, with the last mat being brought to the front as the horse walked over the one behind. Another suggested tying the horses to a platform of old mattresses overtop heavy plywood. Rick Maitland proposed getting a bobcat, cat or backhoe up to the logging road and digging from that end. He was not the only one suggesting the use of heavy equipment,
but unfortunately, as I knew from being up there, the steep terrain and deep snow—snow that due to the extreme cold would not pack down—made that option impossible.
This kind of brainstorming offered a measure of the widespread concern in the community—and indeed, across the nation—for the horses. Although most of these ideas had already been voiced by the volunteers actively involved in the rescue—again, one had to be on the mountain to understand what we were up against—the moral support, the keen interest that so many people took, was heartening.
A McBride horsewoman (recovering from surgery and unable to help with digging) offered to provide stabling, feed, hay, medications, horse supplies and doctoring for the horses if needed. A horsewoman from Valemount spent several hours going from business to business putting up Lisa’s flyers, and Marc put flyers up all over Jasper. A growing number of people in the Robson Valley and beyond were now working behind the scenes.
Four days before Christmas, the weather warmed up somewhat. It was still cold, but probably ten degrees warmer than the day before.
Over breakfast, I read an email
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