by Henry Cordes
CALLER: “My girlfriend fell off the cliff. I hiked back. And I’m in my car.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay. You’re at the Eagle Creek Trailhead right now?”
CALLER: “Yeah.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay, and where on the trail did she fall?”
CALLER: “I don’t know. I think about a mile up.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay.”
The 911 operator thought it was odd. That he was odd. Normally people calling 911 to report a traumatic event are in an agitated state with an emotional element in their speech ranging from weeping to a rapid-fire data dump to shouting or screaming. This guy might as well have been reading a manual on how to change a sparkplug.
CALLER: “I hiked down and got her, uh, and I’m in my car now, and I don’t know if I … (unintelligible)”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay.”
CALLER: “… suffering from hypothermia. I don’t think it’s that cold but …”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay, so she fell off the trail down a cliff, and then you went down the cliff and pulled her, brought her back up onto the trail?”
CALLER: “No she’s dead.”
There was a stunned pause as the operator absorbed his last statement; 911 callers in emergency situations tend to get to the point right away and gush with information. But this was more worried about telling her in his flat, monotone voice that he was cold than that his girlfriend had just died. And every time the operator tried to get more details about the victim, he turned the conversation back to his needs.
CALLER: “I went down to get her. I went to the bottom. Then in the river (unintelligible) took me about an hour to get to her. I finally go over to her, then I was startin’ to shake. I got too cold, so I’m, uh, now, I just got to my car, and I need someone to come and help me … Please send someone I’m at, uh …”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay, hang on just a minute …”
CALLER: “… Eagle Creek.”
911 OPERATOR: “… one second.”
CALLER: “Okay.”
911 OPERATOR: “And what’s, what’s your name, sir?”
CALLER: “Steve.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay Steve, what is, um …”
CALLER: “I’m freezing. Will you please send someone?”
911 OPERATOR: “Um, hang on just one second for me, okay?”
CALLER: “All right.”
911 OPERATOR: “Steve, what is your last name?”
CALLER: “Nichols.”
911 OPERATOR: “And what’s her name, Steve?”
CALLER: “Rhonda.”
911 OPERATOR: “Rhonda’s last name?”
CALLER: “Casto.”
911 OPERATOR: “Could you spell that for me please?”
CALLER: “R-H-O-N-D-A … C-A-S-T-O.”
911 OPERATOR: “Do you need an ambulance? Do you feel like you might need medical attention?”
CALLER: “I don’t know if I’m shaking from, I don’t know … I’m really cold.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay, okay, Steve.”
CALLER: “I’m just really cold.”
911 OPERATOR: “Are you able to start the car and get warm?”
CALLER: “Yeah, the …”
911 OPERATOR: “Blankets?”
CALLER: “… car is running.”
911 OPERATOR: “And now Steve, I know this is a difficult question for you to answer for me, but what makes you think she was deceased?”
CALLER: “I don’t know it for sure. I stayed with her for about an hour and a half, and I gave her mouth-to-mouth, and I tried covering up her leg. There was blood coming out of her leg, and I just sat and helped her, and then I started shaking uncontrollably, so … (unintelligible)”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay.”
CALLER: “Had to go back, and …”
911 OPERATOR: “Was she breathing when you left her?”
CALLER: “No.”
911 OPERATOR: “Do you know if she had a pulse?”
CALLER: “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay, Steve, we have an officer who’s on his way.”
CALLER: “All right. How long … how long will it take an ambulance to get here?”
911 OPERATOR: “It’ll take just a minute. Would you like an ambulance for you?”
CALLER: “Uh, uh …”
911 OPERATOR: “If there’s a question, I can send them, and, um, then you can decide not to go with them if that’s what you choose to do.”
CALLER: “Just so cold. That’s the thing, I’m cold. … How long will it take to the police car to get here?”
911 OPERATOR: “They’re on their way, okay? Hang on just a second. How far down the trail, how far over the cliff is she?”
CALLER: “Uh, I don’t know, like a hundred feet …”
911 OPERATOR: “A hundred feet, okay.”
CALLER: “I don’t know.”
911 OPERATOR: “Steve, how old are you?”
CALLER: “Uh, 34.”
911 OPERATOR: “I’m going to send the ambulance for you, okay?”
CALLER: “All right.”
911 OPERATOR: “Hang on just a second for me. You’re going to hear some silence, okay?”
CALLER: “Okay.”
The caller waited patiently and quietly for the 911 operator to get back on the line. When she did, she assured him that the ambulance was on its way and she would stay on the line with him until somebody got there.
CALLER: “ ‘kay.”
911 OPERATOR: “And we have an officer on his way from Hood River.”
CALLER: “Where’s that?”
911 OPERATOR: “Hood River? Um, it’s about twenty minutes away, but he’s on his way, about seven minutes ago, okay, and we have an officer coming from Corbett. Do you know where that’s at?”
CALLER: “No I don’t.”
911 OPERATOR: “He’s a little closer so he’ll be there shortly.”
CALLER: “Okay.”
911 OPERATOR: “So I’m going to stay on the phone with you. Are you getting any warmer in the vehicle with the heat on, Steve?”
CALLER: “No but I have it on full so that should heat up.”
911 OPERATOR: “Are you in wet clothes at all?”
CALLER: “Tried to … (unintelligible) … up river. Uh, was too strong, so …”
911 OPERATOR: “Are you able to get your wet clothes off and put something else warmer on?”
CALLER: “Yeah … (unintelligible) … shirt off.”
911 OPERATOR: “You what? You have warmer clothes to put on or dry clothes at least?
The caller was silent.
911 CALLER: “Steve?
Still no answer.
911 OPERATOR: “… Steve? … Steve?”
CALLER: “Yeah, that helps. … How far away is he?”
911 OPERATOR: “He said just a few minutes.”
CALLER: “Okay.”
911 OPERATOR: “Are you there?”
CALLER: “Yeah.”
911 OPERATOR: “Hang on just a second for me, okay?”
There were several more pauses over the next couple of minutes as the operator checked with law enforcement and the ambulance crew. Again, the caller patiently waited for her return and would then inquire as to when someone would be there to help him. He never once said anything about his girlfriend without being asked a direct question.
CALLER: “What time is it?”
911 OPERATOR: “It’s 6:18. They’re going to be there in a few minutes, okay?”
CALLER: “Okay.”
911 OPERATOR: “So Steve, how far up the trail did you say she is?”
CALLER: “I don’t know. I think a mile.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay. What was she wearing?”
CALLER: “Uh, jeans. … I don’t know the top. … She put on my shirt, but I think she put one over …”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay. They’re on their way, okay?”
CALLER: “Yeah.”
911 OPERATOR: “Hang on one second for me, Steve, okay?”
CALLER: “Mm hmm.”
The 911 OPERATOR spoke to one of the responding officers: “Brandon … (unintelligible) … responding? I have a hypothermic guy sitting in his car.”
The 911 OPERATOR then addressed the caller. “They’re on their way, okay.”
THE CALLER: “Uh huh.”
911 OPERATOR: “They’re on their way. They said less than five minutes, okay? He’ll be there in just a couple of minutes.”
THE CALLER: “All right.”
The operator asked a few more perfunctory questions, such as date of birth for both the caller, January 4, 1975, and his girlfriend, July 2, 1985. The operator then attempted to gather more details about the “accident.”
911 OPERATOR: “Do you know what made her fall, Steve? Did she lose her footing, or did she get hurt? … Do you know why she fell?”
CALLER: “I think she’s high on something.”
911 OPERATOR: “Have you done any drugs or alcohol today?”
CALLER: “No.”
911 OPERATOR: “What do you think she’s high on?”
CALLER: “I don’t know. She always hides that stuff from me.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay. Are you doing okay?”
CALLER: “Yeah, I’m warming up a little.”
911 OPERATOR: “Oh, you’re …”
CALLER: “Shaking. … I can’t stop shaking.”
911 OPERATOR: “The ambulance is on its way. It will be there in a few minutes.”
CALLER: “Uh huh.”
Again the 911 OPERATOR broke to speak to the responding officers: “Are you guys aware of what’s going on?” After speaking to them, she returned to the CALLER: “Did you leave anything on the trail showing where she went down over the cliff? … Did you leave a backpack or anything there?”
CALLER: “No, I left my backpack … (unintelligible) … farther down, so I could go down. But then when I made my way back up, I got it. … Only thing I left was my sweatshirt.”
911 OPERATOR: “You left your sweatshirt there on the trail?”
CALLER: “No that was down by the river. … It’s close to where she is, but that’s where I went in the river. … The policeman’s here.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay. I’ll go ahead and let you go.”
CALLER: “Okay.”
911 OPERATOR: “Okay.”
CALLER: “Thank you very much.”
911 OPERATOR: “You’re welcome.”
CALLER: “Bye.”
911 OPERATOR: “Bye bye.”(1)
With that exchange of pleasantries, the call ended. A young mother was dead. But the important thing, at least according to the 911 call, was that her boyfriend was cold.
CHAPTER TWO—First Responders
Eagle Creek Trailhead
6:28 p.m.
When Hood River Sheriff’s Office Deputy Marc A. Smith heard the 911 operator’s radio dispatch that a woman had fallen from the Eagle Creek Trail and that her boyfriend was possibly suffering from exposure, it came as no great surprise. Every year deputies from the sheriffs’ offices in Hood River and Multnomah, the two counties responsible for law enforcement in that part of the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Area, participated in about thirty search and rescue missions to assist injured, lost, or simply ill-equipped hikers.
Sometimes people died on the trails through falls, loose rocks, heart attacks, or one of the biggest threats in that climate, hypothermia, a potentially fatal drop in body temperature due to exposure. The Eagle Creek trail had its share of fatalities due to its natural splendor, easy access, and proximity to a city.
The trailhead was located about forty miles east of Portland and a half-mile off Interstate 84, the east-west corridor that parallels the Columbia River. It’s one of the most beautiful hikes in Oregon, climbing through a primordial Pacific Northwest rainforest along a 24-mile path that leads to a half-dozen waterfalls, bridges a spectacular gorge, and even burrows through 120-feet of rock behind thundering Tunnel Falls.(2)
The trail starts off along Eagle Creek, which is a typical stream for the area—vigorous, boulder-strewn and littered with logs and debris—cutting noisily through a steep-sided gorge on its way to the Columbia. But the stream and trail soon part as the path begins to climb along a slope populated by moss-draped cedars, Douglas Fir, and a variety of hardwood trees that provide a thick and brooding canopy over maidenhair ferns and impenetrable undergrowth.
It’s not a tough hike. The first four miles up to Punchbowl Falls is rated by online trail guides as an “easy to moderate” climb, gaining 500 feet in elevation, with footing that ranges from a smooth, gently-sloping forest path to broken chunks of rock that hikers must pick through to avoid a turned ankle.
This initial portion of the trail is generally safe, traveled without incident by numerous families and hikers of all ages and abilities, but there is one area that deserves caution. Slightly less than a mile from the parking lot, the trail grows suddenly steeper and narrows as it traverses a cliff 300 feet above the gorge floor. There’s even a hand rail of cable and pipe fastened to the rock face on one side for those intimidated by the precipice on the other. It’s with this spot in mind that the trail guides warn that children and dogs should be supervised.
If the caller, who’d identified himself as Stephen Nichols, was right, it was in that area where his girlfriend, Rhonda Casto, had fallen.
A 10-year veteran with sheriff’s Office, Smith had been driving back to Hood River from the state capital of Salem and was near the town of Corbett when he heard the call come over the radio. He knew that sheriff’s investigator Matt English was on his way, but realizing he was closer than his colleague, Smith had radioed that he would respond as well. Pulling into the trailhead parking lot, Smith noted there were two cars: an unoccupied, maroon-colored mini-van with Washington plates; and the blue Mazda the caller had identified. Getting out of his own car, the deputy saw a male sitting in the driver’s seat of the Mazda, his head on the steering wheel. The occupant didn’t have a shirt on and was covering his upper body with a blanket.
The man didn’t appear to notice him when Smith walked up, so the deputy knocked on the driver’s side window. Even then the occupant was slow to respond, but he at last rolled the window down partway. He was still on his cellphone with the 911 operator: “The policeman’s here. … Thank you very much. … Bye bye.”
Smith introduced himself and ascertained that the man’s name was Stephen Nichols. The deputy could see that Nichols’ hair and pants were wet. He wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks either. The deputy cautioned Nichols to stay warm and offered his fleece coat.
“When will the medics get here?” Nichols asked.
“They’re on their way and will be here in a few minutes,” Smith replied. He indicated the front passenger seat. “Mind if I sit down while we talk?” Nichols leaned over and unlocked the passenger side door.
Entering the car, Smith removed a wet t-shirt from the seat and place it on the floorboard. Nichols explained that it was wet because he tried to swim upstream to reach his girlfriend, Rhonda Casto. “There’s probably some blood on it from me giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation,” he added.
“How far up the trail did she fall?” the deputy asked.
“About a mile,” Nichols said before describing how he’d then run back down the trail one-half to three-quarters of a mile before he could find a spot to scramble down to the creek. He then tried walking back along the bank, he said, but it was too rough. So he got in the stream and attempted to “swim.” This, too, proved difficult and he climb
ed back out to walk.
Nichols also repeated his story about trying to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “But she was dead.”
At one point during their conversation, Nichols’ cellphone rang. He looked at the Caller ID but didn’t answer. He told Smith that the caller was Rhonda’s mother, Julia Simmons, who was watching the couple’s nine-month-old daughter, Annie.
“I don’t know how to tell her or Rhonda’s sister, Melanie, that Rhonda’s dead,” Nichols said.
Smith assured him that either he or some other law enforcement official would inform Rhonda’s family. “You don’t need to talk to them right now.”
While questioning Nichols, the deputy noted that the young man seemed withdrawn and didn’t readily offer any information, but rather had to be drawn out with questions. He also alternated between a somber expression and sobbing.
An ambulance from the Cascade Locks Fire and EMS arrived. Nichols got out of the car and headed for the medical team. In the ambulance, paramedic Wayne Overcash took five tympanic (ear) temperature measurements between 6:34 p.m. and 6:52 p.m., all of them either 36 degrees or 37 degrees Celsius.
Normal tympanic body temperature is 35.5 to 37.5 degrees Celsius. Readings of 32 to 35 degrees is considered “mild hypothermia” with symptoms being shivering and slurred speech, but alert;” 28 to 32 is considered “moderate” and symptoms of “sleepiness” but no shivering; and 20-28 is severe. The body temperature of Nichols, who Overcash noted was “verbal and alert,” was normal.
When Nichols exited the Mazda to go to the ambulance, Smith got out as well and looked at the back seat. He saw a pair of wet hiking boots and a woman’s purse on the floorboard in the back; a backpack that also appeared to be wet was sitting on the seat.
Soon after Nichols got in the ambulance, Deputy Matt English arrived. He spoke briefly with Smith and got Nichols’ account of the “accident.” Then, while Smith joined Nichols in the ambulance to continue the questioning, English talked to Cascade Locks Fire Chief Jeff Pritcher, who was preparing to hike up the Eagle Creek trail with a Cascade Locks Fire department volunteer, Zach Pardue, to locate the victim.
Both men were also members of the Hood River Crag Rats, the oldest volunteer search and rescue organization in the United State, and especially trained for technical rock-climbing and avalanche rescues. With twilight fading and night falling, the pair left the parking lot at 6:38 p.m.
