December 7, 2006

Surviving

I don’t usually follow stories like that of the Kim family’s tragic rescue, if only because they tend to serve as macabre entertainment fodder to drive newspaper sales and television ratings. In fact, I think the last time I paid as close attention to a story like this was in 1992, when a couple of young Bay Area parents, Jim and Jennifer Stolpa, got themselves and their baby stuck miles from nowhere in deep snow near the ghost town of Vya, Nevada. I don’t know why the story of the Kim family caught my interest. Perhaps it’s because of my gut feeling that I almost certainly share at least one mutual acquaintance with James Kim, as he worked in publishing in the Bay Area. Whatever reason, I followed the story. I was relieved when Kati and the Kims’ children were rescued, and stricken when reports surfaced that James Kim’s body had been found.

This tragedy was one hundred percent avoidable. At several points during the family’s ordeal, decisions were made that markedly increased the likelihood of a sad ending.

CRN’s readership demographics being what they are, it’s a safe bet that someone reading this post will someday find him- or herself in an equivalent situation. When I had my car accident a few years back, one of the first things I did while hanging upside down in the driver’s seat of my late Nissan pickup was to turn off the engine, and the reason I did so was not because it made sense, but because in my literally rattled state the first thing that came to mind was an old Shell commercial that said “the first thing you should do in a car accident is turn off the engine.” Hopefully… well, hopefully none of you will ever get unpleasantly stranded. But if you do, perhaps this post will come to mind the way that commercial did for me.

Here, then, are a few things to commit to memory before you get yourself stranded.

1) Mapquest sucks. Same goes for Google Maps. Oh, they’ll get you to a restaurant across town fairly well, or show you the fastest way between major cities. But when your trip involves following the little one-pixel gray lines without markers on the mapquest sheet you printed out, it’s time to find a gas station and ask directions instead. This is especially true west of the 100th Meridian, though a good winter storm can make a pleasant paved Vermont lane as isolated as any Mojave desert two-rut. Use real maps. DeLorme has gazetteers of all 50 states with a scale for most of them at five miles or less to the inch, twenty bucks a state. I take the editions for California, Nevada, Utah and Arizona with me on all desert trips, unless I’m certain I’m sticking to routes I know. And even excellent maps like DeLorme’s are tricky when you get to backroad granularity. There’s a faint cow path that follows gravel washes in the Arizona Strip on which I once set confidently out, reassured by the solid red line in the gazetteer. If a five mile to the inch atlas with locations of individual petroglyphs marked on it can steer you wrong on the backroads, then Mapquest just might kill you. Disregard the online maps once you get off the limited access highways. Especially if you have failed to print them out on non-porous stock with non-water-soluble ink. A smudge from snowmelt or forehead sweat can wash out the information you need to get home.

2) Take stuff with you. Hikers of a certain age will be able to recite to you the Ten Essentials, things you should have in your daypack for even the shortest wildland hikes. Another couple recently spent five cold, hungry nights in a rugged Bay Area park, an experience they would have been avoided had they carried just two of the Ten Essentials. That said, I’m guilty of ignoring some of them, notably the pocketknife, firestarter, and sometimes the flashlight. (Also water, sometimes, as long-term CRN readers will remember.) I fail to take matches and firestarter on Mount Diablo climbs because they add weight and it’s only a few miles back to the truck. Both of those excuses are silly ones, and I should know better. By extension of the concept, there’s no reason not to keep at least the Ten Essentials in your car at all times. You don’t have to go quite as far as I did with my late lamented Nissan pickemup: that truck had a lockable shell on the bed, and I stored enough camping equipment and food and fuel back there that I’d have been somewhat comfortable getting stranded for two weeks, longer if there was fresh water nearby. But if you venture away from populated areas, a cheap backpacking stove and a week’s worth of fuel, a lean few days’ worth of non-perishable (and non-tempting in non-emergencies) food, a couple blankets and a box of waterproof matches stowed in the car can make the difference between tragedy and an amusing story to be retold and embellished over the years. And when you get home, consider leaving that stuff in the car for next time.

After you get stranded:

3) Stay with the vehicle.
4) Stay with the vehicle.
5) Stay with the vehicle.
6) Do not leave your vehicle. Unless, that is, it’s on fire, in which case you should retreat a safe distance. A vehicle provides shelter from cold and wind and precipitation and a source of greenhouse heat for people stuck in the snow, and a large shadow-casting object for you summer desert strandees. Just as importantly, your vehicle is ten or twenty times your size and made of presumably shiny metal and glass. Even an old, dented, bondoed, Earl-Scheib-repainted rusted-out El Camino will be orders of magnitude shinier than you are. Size and shininess mean greater visibility from the air, which is especially important when the Search and Rescue folks have to look for you through thick forest cover. Clearly, in many stranding situations walking out is a sensible thing to do. If you see a building, for instance, or if the weather is good and you are confident of your location and in sufficiently good physical condition to walk to your known destination (the gas station you passed eight miles back, f’rinstance) and back without taxing your reserves too much. If you are at all in doubt, stay with the vehicle. Kati Kim and her children stayed with their car, and they survived. James Kim walked away with the best and most noble and heroic of intentions, and he died. Whether you’re in the mountain snow, in rainy forest, miles off the pavement in the desert, or plunged off an ocean cliff: stay with the goddamn vehicle.

7) If you must walk away from your vehicle, stay on the road. Do not take tempting shortcuts across hills or mountain ranges. Do not reason that there must be houses downstream (as James Kim did, was reported to have done at first, though as more information reached the press it became obvious that he was misled by a cheap offline map heading into one of the most rugged and least-populated pieces of real estate in the lower 48) or that the power lines are likely to get you to help sooner than the road will. Odds are, the road is where it is for a reason, to wit: getting people from one populated area to the next on the shortest feasible path using the least-steep and obstructed path possible. Think of it this way: you’re looking for a house or a 7/11 or even just a barn to give you a bit more shelter than your El Camino. Is that destination more likely to be down an impossibly steep ravine, or along a road? Roads will generally not lead you to impassable cliffs or impenetrable thickets or unswimmable rapids, and if they do then you turn around and head in the opposite direction. Perhaps most importantly, nearby roads are where the search and rescue people will look first, perhaps finding you without even getting out of their F-250s. From the air, roads usually provide a break in overhead cover through which the helicopter pilot can see you. In open country such as deserts, roads are broad swathes of a uniform color against which you will stand out more distinctly even from a few thousand feet up.

In 1992, Jim Stolpa left his wife and baby huddled in a snow cave to keep as close to warm as possible and struggled back the way they’d come along that desolate road in Northern Nevada. He was found, in a fortunate fluke, by a local who was out cross-country skiing along the closed road. Stolpa’s decision to stick to the road saved him and his family.  Leaving the road was James Kim’s final mistake, as valiant as his intent certainly was. From the San Francisco Chronicle’s story:

Had Kim known to continue down the logging road from where the car stopped, he soon would have come to a fishing and rafting resort known as Black Bar Lodge. It was vacant for the winter, but rescuers checked it several times[.]

[Added later: The news is reporting that Kim’s footprints were followed by those of a bear: Kim may have felt no choice but to leave the road. Still a bad decision, much like many we’ve all made under duress.]

James Kim’s daughters didn’t need to grow up without their father. If there is anything at all that can be salvaged from this tragedy, aside from news stories of a man who loved his family so much he risked his life for them, it is this: remember him well and do not repeat his sincere but unnecessary sacrifice.

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This post does great service for anyone who reads it. Maybe it’ll even save a life.

I should be dead a hundred times over. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been better prepared, but when I was young… My friends will tell you however, that I have an amazing sense of direction.  I’m guess I’m lucky to be dumb enough to still have instincts I don’t question.
Of course, I never had to get some place so badly that I couldn’t wait for better weather conditions.  I’ll be back out West again some day, and I’ll be prepared.  Thanks for the reminder.

You’re right. Thanks for reminding us. Any of us that have spent time in the wilderness have made mistakes, so it’s understandable that Kim wanted to do something for his family, and made a bad judgment. Hopefully by reading your article it will save someone else from a similar fate.

Maybe you should list the 10. I’m not sure if my 10 are the same as your 10!

Glad to see you’re back writing again.

And again, cotton kills. Kim was reportedly wearing sneakers, and maybe jeans; he’d just left a vehicle with leather or heavy-duty vinyl seats and foam pads underneath.  Break a side mirror if you don’t have a knife.  Going outside, even as wrong a decision as that was, didn’t have to be fatal.  God rest his soul and keep his family.

Michelle Quinn in the Mercury says this shows the limit of technology ("A GPS would have helped") .  But knowing how to do without that stuff would help a great deal more.

I think they had been in the car nearly a week before he set off.  My heart breaks as I imagine the desperate young father, no doubt with his kids crying, deciding to head out on his own.  And then it breaks all the more as I imagine him realizing that he’s not going to make it. 

A couple months ago here in Minnesota a father set out on a lake, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, to go fishing with his young son.  But it was windy, and the water was cold, and they were in a canoe, and they were novices in the water.  Their bodies were found the next day.  Such simple mistakes, such horrible endings.

I remember the Stolpa case, and have even driven
on that same road east of Cedarville.  I think the “essentials” list is great, but it’s backpacker oriented. This would be my list for families on driving trips.

CAR TRIP ESSENTIALS

1.  At least six liters/quarts of
bottled drinking water, per passenger.

2.  Several energy/breakfast candy
bars or similar non-refrigerated
snack food, per passenger.

3. In order of declining preference:
waterproof (wax-coated) matches,
kitchen matches in waterproof/ziplock
bags, or two/three cigarette lighters.

4. Competent sleeping bag or bags suitable
for outdoor use. (A sleepover bag made
entirely of cotton and flannel is
not sufficient.) Also, a waterproof tarp
(reinforced plastic sheet) in a bright color. 
Consider that, if the roof of your vehicle
is black, silver, gray, or white,
bright colors are easier to see from above.
Good sizes for tarps are four by eight
up to 10 x 12 feet.
If your sleeping bag doesn’t come with a
waterproof storage sack, keep it in a plastic
garbage bag.

5.  Maps.  At the very least, carry in your
car a full-sized 50-state road atlas.
Be able to recognize how the map/atlas
indicates road qualities, from freeway to
unpaved/unmaintained.

6. A swiss-army knife:  $20 - $30 full-size type.

7.  A flashlight with LED bulb instead of conventional bulb.  Some of these flashlights come in the shake to charge (don’t need batteries) format.

8.  Extra pair of sunglasses.  Non-metal frames
are preferred.

9.  Sunblock and insect repellent, in lotion format.

10.  Disposable camera WITH FLASH.  A helicopter
or passing car is more likely to see your flash
than hear you screaming.  And, it’s also helpful to have photos of any car accident scene.

11.  Consider a small transistor radio, good for your mental health if you’re stuck for a long period.
And you won’t drain your battery playing the monster entertainment gizmo in your dashboard.

12.  First-aid supplies.  Big roll of gauze, super-sticky tape, small scissors, aspirin, triple-antibiotic cream.

13.  Look for a cheap waterproof poncho or rainsuit.  Staying dry is very important.

14.  Get a one-or-two gallon tupperware-style
plastic storage box to keep these items dry and together.  It should have a snap-on waterproof lid.

You should be able to find most all of these items
in under an hour of shopping in a large drug,
sporting goods, or discount store.
Keep your new safety box in the back of your car and relax.

1.  Take a cellphone with matching car-charger-cord.
By law, even an old cellphone with no active
contract can still be used to call 911.

2.  Know how to find, extract, and use all the
tools necessary to change a flat tire.
For example, where is your JACK?
Bolted into some cubbyhole
in the back fender? Under the hood with the engine?
Do you know how to release it, and then how to
place and operate it?

3.  Make xerox/laser-print copies of your driver’s license, car insurance, and health insurance cards and keep them--with some cash money--bagged and hidden in a safe place. (Inkjet prints blur if they become wet.)

I linked to one list of the 10 Essentials in the piece, Kent; thanks for the reminder that I should have said so explicitly. Here’s another such list.

Note that some people will think of substituting a GPS handheld for the compass. This works great if you 1) know how to use your GPS and 2) have enough batteries and 3) aren’t in a deep canyon. Even if you have a GPS (and I do: wonderful toy) you should carry a compass, whose batteries never run out. Even if you’re not an expert orienteer — even if you think “azimuth” is that guy who wrote 1000 science fiction books — it’’s useful to know which way north is as you look at your map.

Of course, you need to know how to read a map. I took a desert biology class once upon a time which involved some hiking, and the instructor thus made us learn how to read topos (though my geology teacher Joe Stieve had taken care of that for me some 25 years previous) and it was surprising to me how many people in that class, all of them smart people, had trouble grasping how contour lines worked. Learn how to use a map and compass if you don’t know.

As it turns out, part of what helped find the Kims was the pings from Kati Kim’s cell phone, so modern technology does get some credit. It’s not too unreasonable to consider a mobile phone an Eleventh Essential.

GREAT list, Omegapet.

I’d also add that those orange reflector thingies some car safety kits contain in lieu of highway flares aren’t bad things to place (horizontally) on the roof of your car in a pinch, if you haven’t had the forethought to get that big orange tarp.

There’s also these, which are easy to stow and which serve the twin functions of signaling material and protection from the elements.

Oooh, yeah.  The SPACE BLANKET!
I didn’t know you could get them
now in “Nuclear Orange.”

There have been many changes since
Kang and Kodos became our occupying
galactic overlords.

Surviving . . . A Trip to Chris Clarke’s House

1. Stay With Your Vehicle
2. Stay With Your Vehicle
3. Stay With Your Vehicle
4. Don’t Leave Your Vehicle He’ll make you hike through a park, to a creek, down a railroad cutting to a swamp, then along the shore . . . and back. They may or may not find your body when you fall out along the way.

Just park your vehicle at the curb and stay inside it until dark - then hop out and say “Anybody up for a little dinner?” If he still insists on walking somewhere first, fake a sprained ankle, crawl back to your vehicle, and lock yourself in.

(Good post, Chris. And thanks for the walk. Still memorable.)

You know, I’ve been thinking about this post all day and have come to the conclusion that everyone on my very short gift list is going to get two (one for home and one for car) emergency kits.

Cool! I ruined Christmas!

Nice to see you, KTK. We found another Peruvian place for next time you come out to visit. It’s not far from a nice hike on Mount Diablo.

Well, they’ll also get something fun, too.

I suspect Kim was hungry, exhausted, desperate and therefore, not thinking clearly, which will kill anyone, eventually.  No less sad.

I am reminded of a guy who stayed in his truck, stuck in snow, about 100 yards from a plowed road.  Starved to death. There are exceptions to every rule.

Beer anyone?

this is an excellent post.  one of my best holiday presents ever was from my good sister, an emergency road kit.  [my birth family does not do major expeditions, but we have a pathological awareness of dangers.  kind of funny that the family motto is “be prepared” when we are, as a group, exceedingly unlikely to be lost in the wilderness.  still, shit happens, and even we use the stuff below.]

the best sister ever’s road kit included at least the following, all packed up in a quality waterproof duffle bag:

-- bunch of bottled water
-- emergency food [power bars, granola bars, etc.]
-- first aid kit [including something like neosporin, bandaids, gauze, tape, scissors, etc.]
-- advil
-- antibacterial gel, for waterless cleansing
-- sunscreen
-- space blanket
-- 12-14” maglite flashlight [it’s light!  AND a weapon, if needed!] plus extra batteries.
-- a box of large trash bags
-- roll of paper towels
-- mesh bag containing misc. supplies:  female products, extra cash, can and bottle opener, swiss army knife, sewing kit, waterproof matches, collapsing cup, knife/fork/spoon, etc.
-- far side book [one never knows when this will be vital]

i’m thinking of making some of these kits, and now would add:

-- box of ziploc baggies
-- reflective tape
-- umbrella
-- pad of post-it notes, and a pen
-- super-glue
-- duct tape
-- some kind of rope or a substantial durable cord, and clamps or clips [i am enamoured with metal binder clips, which do anything in a pinch, but ordinary wooden laundry clips are also useful in many ways]
-- assorted bungie cords
-- roll of heavy-duty aluminum foil
-- instant soups, tea, coffee, oatmeal, lightweight mugs, etc.
-- something to cook in, and some instant fire—i think there are emergency stove kits—a backpacking cook kit would work well
-- hand warmer doodads
-- charger for the cell phone
-- maps
-- extra sox and generic clothes

1. A smudge from snowmelt or forehead sweat can wash out the information you need to get home.

I highly recommend topographics if one is choosing to make the effort to get “out there.” However, to avoid the breakdown of the paper, the smudges of pencil/marker of where this or that feature was at some point previous, etc., please laminate them professionally.  This allows marking on them, and keeping them from being damaged over the long haul.  I have kept an old deep-Sierra high country one as a reminder of just that; it has a hole, rubbed from backpack friction and folding use, in one of the most important and sensitive sections of glaciated-dome crossings. 

2. I’m guilty of ignoring some of them, notably the pocketknife, firestarter, and sometimes the flashlight.

Weatherman makes a cool tiny version of its popular implement tool, that can be linked with a small LED flashlight/ knife.  Thus in less than 4 oz i always have a striker, a flint, a light, a saw, pliers etc.  Cheap knockoffs are even worth it these days. 

Another important little trick--if you shop where they only have plastic produce bags, and/or plastic shopping bags, and you don’t bring your own, recycle four to keep in your car or backpack.  These make great vapor barrier layering for hands and feet (even your head) and sustain warmth in extremities.  They can keep cotton from killing you.

3456-- I spent nearly all of my professional life as educator/lifeguard, teaching during the school year (taking quarters off occassionally) and serving as a lifeguard/ranger the rest of the time (35+ years of service in both).  I even did a stint in the high Sierras with the State Park System, for which i was part of the SAR teams called out for various operations.  The single most important strategy of survival was staying with vehicle.  I remember onetime we found a car in the river, during winter, that had slid off the road from the ice buildup.  Because the occupants stayed in the car, they were able to be rescued (rather than floating downstream lost in freezing water).  One of them, a small child had literally died of hypothermic drowning (mammalian diving reflex); he was able to be resuscitated because the severe cold had slowed down his metabolism to the point of near stasis.  But, winter is different than summer, and getting out of a sinking car, though not easy at times (shorted electric doorlocks and windows--carry a hammer), will save your life.

7-- Something Carl says above is important as well.  Even if you have a great sense of direction (i am one of those blessed with an internal mental navigation system that has for these sixty years been amazingly accurate even in the worst of situations [large wave surfing wipeouts]), you need to have data inputted into it.  This means paying attention to where you are going, thus knowing (short term memory is critical here) where you have just been. 

Another thing not mentioned above: your car has three mirrors (well most do) at least.  Mirrors in daylight make the best signalling tools.  Rip off one of them (preferably either the visor mirror or the inside rearview [you can safely drive with the two outside ones if you have to]), and use it with sun or even a flashlight to send photons skyward. 

GPS systems require you to use and know maps.  They don’t help much if you have no clue where latitude 38.004N.  longitude -122.297W might be.  And what does it mean when all those darker thicker contour lines are close together on the topo map? hehehee

i have no sense of direction.  my list should include a compass. humility is also a good item to pack.

spyder, i forgot those plastic grocery bags. good for so many things.  any car kit needs a dozen or more. they can squish down into any space [or a ziplock], not take any room at all.

my daughter’s applied physics class had pretty much this same discussion, today.  the teacher stressed, “stay with the car.  stay with the car.  don’t leave the car,” and many other points touched on by chris and others. 

i stand by hefty bags and the big maglite, though.  thousands of uses.

Now, I understand the S&R;point of staying with the car. But I Have Always Heard that you shouldn’t necessarily stay IN the car—that it’s akin to sitting inside a big metal footlocker. Given how much of my vehicle is probably Fiberglas, this may not be true now, but was it ever?

I’d like to praise the sekrit cargo hold of the Prius. Mine contains a cot, bedroll, Z-rest pad, Esbit stove and pellets, tarp and other of the items you list, and the bad car buster-inners have no idea.

excellent advice on this post.

i lived in coos bay in the early ‘80s, so i am very familiar with the area in which the kims were stranded.

another piece of advice: stay on major highways unless you are equipped with the items listed in this post, stay off backcountry roads in the winter unless you are prepared and do not look up alternative ways to travel on the computer.

Hi Chris,

Your advice to the world following James Kim’s unfortunate demise was spot on, and it will likely eventually save lives.  But you only addressed errors made AFTER the family was stuck in the snow.  People who work and play near mountains in winter know several things that would have kept them out of danger to begin with :

1. Have tire chains along, not to get you IN, but to help get you OUT should it happen to snow while you are IN.  Know how to use them.  Have a vehicle on which chains make sense or stay on better-traveled roads.

2.  Plan to come out by the route you went in.

3.  Corollary to the above, DO NOT LOOK FOR “SCENIC ROUTESâ€? THROUGH RUGGED COUNTRY IN WINTER. 

The fact that mountain people know these things and city folks don’t raises something even more fundamental which might sound like Puritan moralizing, but here goes - - - [Chris assures me that it’s not.  Puritan, anyway, that is.]

Wonder whether your cybertech sensibility renders you dangerously oblivious to the power of nature.  Ask yourself exactly what world your tools were made for, and know the boundaries of that world.  I could go on about the dangers of GPS navigation in canyon country, etc., but I’m not here to harangue you on particular wisdom.  Just saying you missed a chance to impart even more.

Today’s NPR story says that Kim did stay at the car for 7 days.  Not sure if that’s true.  I wonder if by the time he left for help he was already hypothermically delusional, and thus not likely to follow even the wisest dictums heard beforehand. 

Towne’s Van Zandt’s song “Snowing on Raton” is haunting partly because it plays on that bone-deep knowledge that winter naturally brings humility in the form of restricted travel.  My sadness is that such knowledge can be lost.  More than this, even the knowledge that there IS such knowledge can be lost. 

Simple procedural codes may save us from danger where we are otherwise stupid.  Like other posters here, I’ve survived often enough by luck or skill rather than wisdom to know anyone’s wisdom can flag.  But I’ve survived more potential disasters by caution born of experience.  Simple codes for survival-once-we-are-in-danger might add to our false sense of security.  We don’t want to silence that wise gremlin in our heads that says, “Don’t try that mountain pass in winter,” by saying, “It’s OK. If we get stuck we’ll just stay in our car.” If this seems glib and unlikely, think of how GPS and the cell phone have changed notions of safety and local knowledge. 

People who know what they are doing--woods workers, backcountry skiers, mountaineers--die in the mountains too.  That seems different though.  Those people bought into the game, so the tragedy is more organic somehow.  Kim’s story is differently tragic because he obliviously left his natural game space.

Perhaps I am wrong.  Maybe James Kim was a veteran outdoorsman who got stuck because he felt confident—-too confident--in the backcountry so he pushed it, then had bad luck.  That happens too, but here I’m addressing the opposite error.  I am projecting about Kim’s outdoor haplessness based on his profession, which is unfair.  But dotted with references to on-line maps, cell phones, and Web professionalism as this story is, that’s the fable to which it seems to boil down.

Kestrel’s post reminds me of another point.  Twenty+ years ago, while working that High Sierra job i mentioned above, three friends who owned and operated a four season backcountry touring resort business, decided to ski over to see me and visit during a slow mid-winter week.  It would normally have been a two day trip, but a typical “Tonapah low” brought in some eastside snow.  Third day, two came out, and one didn’t.  We immediately launched the search, knowing three critical things.  First, as soon as someone is missing let someone else know.  Second, the lost person, in this case, was experienced and would follow certain key trail identifiers (we could count on his being consistent and could expect his survival behavior and strategies).  Third, he had not been that far behind, and the two who came out knew the pace they had been making on their skiis.  We were able to find the third person within three hours, safe and warm. 

He still runs the four season operations.  One of the other two is an expert avalanche control team member for the Wasatch mountains in Utah, and the other runs an alternative energy company in the Sierra foothills.

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