January 19, 2010 7:08 AM

Ski Patrol: Heroes among us       By DAVID WHITING

REGISTER COLUMNIST

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BIG BEAR – The dispatcher in the brain center of Bear Mountain's Ski Patrol headquarters sent out the call.A 23-year-old snow boarder was down. His location: Gambler, a particularly busy run at Bear Mountain Resort, known for its rails, ramps and jumps that transform a natural slope into a boarder's dream of urban challenges.

 Training and retraining are hallmarks of the National Ski Patrol. Brian Stotts of Carona (left) pulls a rescue toboggan as Gary Biehl (center) of Dove Canyon and Shahnam Biglari of Laguna Niguel (right) attend to Patrick Amsbry of Pasadena, in the role of patient. Mount San Gorgonio is in the background.

Training and retraining are hallmarks of the National Ski Patrol. Brian Stotts of Carona (left) pulls a rescue toboggan as Gary Biehl (center) of Dove Canyon and Shahnam Biglari of Laguna Niguel (right) attend to Patrick Amsbry of Pasadena, in the role of patient. Mount San Gorgonio is in the background.

His condition: unknown. But it looked bad. He couldn't move. And there was blood.

Within seconds, the National Ski Patrol was on the scene.

To the boarders and skiers zooming by, it looked like a bunch of men and women calmly hanging around, some kneeling, some standing, and a few directing traffic.But to someone watching as closely as I was – there to observe the legendary Ski Patrol in action – the calm was the mark of a team working in harmony, swiftly executing their mission like clockwork.

In quiet professional tones, the Ski Patrol members assessed the situation, examined the young snowboarder bleeding from the face and immediately administered emergency aid.

"Do you know where you are?" one patroller gently asked as he simultaneously ran his fingers down the patient's spine, ensuring there were no signs of paralysis.

It was then I noticed the red in the snow. The father in me replaced the reporter, and, shivering in the cold, I fretted for the young man.But my worries melted away as the patrol continued their work, stopping the blood flow, securing a neck brace, checking heart and respiratory read outs, gently loading their patient on a backboard. The young man was in the hands of experts.

Within minutes, the drama ended as the lead patroller on the scene skied down the mountain, gracefully guiding a fiberglass and aluminum rescue toboggan with the snow boarder safely secured.

I followed, skiing down to patrol headquarters. Already, the boarder was inside, thanks to a mini-garage door that allows the rescue toboggan to be instantly slid inside a cozy treatment room with enough beds to handle a half-dozen patients, anything from altitude sickness to far more serious situations.

And, already, paramedics were there, their ambulance just outside should the young man require transportation to a hospital.Fortunately, luck was on the patient's side. With little more than a cut nose and feeling a bit banged up, the boarder walked away with his younger brother by his side.There would be nearly three-dozen such calls over the course of the day, Saturday. Some would be minor with momentarily-nervous snow boarders deciding no help was needed and disappearing before the Ski Patrol could arrive.

Other incidents, such as the one in which a University of Irvine student bruised her back on Easy Street, a beginner run, would prove more serious.Most of those patients, like a young woman suffering from altitude sickness, would recover and return to the slopes. A few, such as the UCI student, would leave in ambulances.

Regardless, each incident, or "wreck" as the Ski Patrol called them, revealed the type of teamwork that only comes with years of training, respect for one another and true passion for the job. It was no surprise to hear members refer to one another as "friends" and "family."

Back in the day, when I learned to ski in Michigan, ski patrollers seemed like rock stars, always the best athletes on the slopes, swooping down to help injured skiers, hauling them off the mountain if necessary.

But I had no idea of the amount of training they had, the sophistication of their equipment, how hard these men and women work and how many are needed. I also had no idea most were volunteers, there for the simple reward of helping others.

Our day started at 7 a.m., an hour before guests arrived. There were nearly 40 men and women, young, middle-aged and older. Equipment checks followed. Oxygen tanks were reviewed. Rescue toboggans were examined. Emergency backpacks were gone over.

Then it was time to hit the slopes. As the day went on, team members traded off on patrolling the trails and keeping their training fresh, always monitoring their ever-crackling radios.

Someone was over the side on Outlaw, Bear Mountain's advanced run on the resort's northern flank.

It meant a skier or a snowboarder had lost control, ploughed through the plastic safety fence and headed down into a wilderness of ungroomed gullies, trees and rocks.

And, as always, the Ski Patrol, arrived within seconds, uncoiling ropes, setting up belays, and administering aide, working as a team.

 With the precision of a Rolex.

David Whiting can be reached at 714-796-6869 or This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it .