When I was twelve I climbed my first multipitch mountain. With the bravery of a lion, little me would do whatever she wanted, without fear.
Fast forward five years and I am standing atop the three-hundred-foot-tall Morning Glory spire in City of Rocks, Idaho. We’ve just climbed three pitches to the peak of the dramatic lone pillar of rock and I sit at the summit, high above the tops of trees, with birds soaring in a halo around my head. I am so scared. I keep telling myself, “I can do this,” over and over, but no amount of mantras will untie the knot in my stomach.
Over the past year, anxiety has felt like my constant companion. Plagued by panic attacks, nausea, and fear, it became harder and harder not to worry. I have a special talent for finding problems with the mundane. This summer I challenged myself to face my fears and take one big step towards my arch nemesis: ambiguity.
As a learner at One Stone’s Lab51 school, I was encouraged to explore my passions and interests. Together, my dad and I arranged for me to spend nine days in Yellowstone National Park, shadowing their Search and Rescue (SAR team). For me, there was nothing more terrifying than facing my fears without the steadfast presence of my mom, dad, and dog to soothe my scared mind. Despite the fear, self-doubt, and endless list of worries, I left for Yellowstone.
Below is a selection of my vulnerable and honest reflections written throughout my time in the park. I dug deep throughout the time I spent away and put a lot of thought into my purpose, identity, and the other aspects that make me who I am. I hope you enjoy.
Throughout the day I found myself rising to the occasion. I was brave, I asked questions, and I had fun.
Ella cornett
Day 1
When I was in Kindergarten I thought that I was going to be a pop star. Obviously, seeking fame on the big stage is quite a risky endeavor, so naturally, my backup plan was to be either a park ranger or a rock climbing guide. At the time, these wild, adventure-packed careers seemed incredibly out of reach.
Today, as I walked to the passenger side of a Yellowstone ranger patrol car, I realized that little me’s dreams had become a reality. I sat alongside the Emergency Medical Services (EMS)/Search and Rescue (SAR) coordinator—we’ll call him Moose—as I embarked on an internship at one of the nation’s most iconic National Parks.
My first day shadowing Moose shadow was filled to the brim with, “Wow, I can actually do this!” moments. I entered my time in the park ready to give in to my anxiety, fully sure that I was going to be outed as a complete and total imposter. I had no prior formal EMS education other than my Wilderness First Aid course and had never actually utilized those skills in the field. In fact, I had forgotten most of the course materials.
However, throughout the day I found myself rising to the occasion. I was brave, I asked questions, and I had fun. I felt independent and capable, filled with a quiet confidence in my ability to ask for help and advocate for my needs. I completed spreadsheets documenting park employees certifications, set up vitals for a patient having a stroke while riding in the back of an ambulance, filled out charts documenting EMS treatments, aided in gear shopping for SAR grab-and-go bags, and loaded a patient into a LifeFlight helicopter.
Everyone I met was excited to teach me, and fully ready to lend a hand whenever I felt like I couldn’t do it alone. Today, I discovered that, for nine days, I have a place void of judgment to try, to be bad at everything, and to learn; there is no feeling of competition or comparison.
Day 3
After additional training during my second day at Yellowstone, Moose deemed me ready to tag along for a proper SAR training. Some of Old Faithful’s buildings were under construction, and one of the crews requested that SAR come and run a mock man-down rescue scenario so that they could practice procedures for if someone had a medical emergency in the attic they were rebuilding.
The SAR team and I met up early to practice using a Sked so that our practice evacuation could run as smoothly as possible. The Sked was essentially a portable stretcher that wrapped around a patient and allowed for transportation to and from cramped spaces. Once we had finished our practice packaging and moving a patient in the Sked, we headed to the construction site to run our scenario.
As a SAR team, we divided up into two groups: a medical team, which was tasked with treating the patient, and a tech team, which was in charge of moving and evacuating the patient. Moose told me I was going to be a part of the medical team and I felt my stomach do a nervous somersault. I immediately pictured myself slowing my team down and being in the way.
As we climbed the rickety construction stairs, my worst fears were confirmed. Almost immediately I was asked how much experience I had, and my reply was, “Just from Wildness First Aid.” From that moment on, I was in the way, had no clue what I was doing, and slowed my team. But, instead of being frustrated with my ignorance, the paramedics and EMTs on my team also slowed down and talked me through every step of the process.
“Caterpillaring” was one of the hardest parts of the entire process. This technique requires rescuers to stand in two lines, with the Sked in the middle to get the trapped patient out of their crisis location. The packaged patient is then passed relay-style through the line, hand over hand, until they reach the desired destination. Once you’ve passed the patient on, you walk to the front of the line and repeat the process over and over.
In the cramped attic, there were plenty of challenges that we had to work our caterpillar around. There were pieces of floor that had yet to be reinforced, and we ran the risk of falling into hotel rooms below if we took a wrong step. Hot pipes and live wires were everywhere, and two by fours lined the floor, threatening to trip us. Slowly but surely, we hauled Deer out of the attic. With Deer safely rescued, we took a lunch break before practicing another rescue scenario in the afternoon.
I went to bed tired, but happy. Wednesday was one of the best days that I had in the park, and I was delighted thinking about how much I learned.
Day 6
Despite being raised in the mountains of Idaho, amongst the trees and rocks, I’ve never developed a knack for exploring the state’s free flowing rivers. Something about whitewater has always scared me. Rock climbing, mountain biking, hiking, and skiing all give ample opportunity to stop when things start to get gnarly. But, you can’t just press pause on the river.
On Saturday, Moose had the day off and invited me to raft the Yellowstone River with his family and friends. I tentatively agreed. Moose had years of experience rowing rafts and taking river trips down bigger flows than Yellowstone. We spent the morning water-fighting a raft full of wildland firefighters, playing cribbage, and threatening to shove each other into the frigid water. After rafting the beginning sections of the river in a boat together, we met Fox and some of her friends, who were visiting for the weekend, at a pull out halfway along our route for the day.
Shortly after, we hit our first rapid. The water was bigger than anything I had ever seen. What was usually a stout Class III had seemingly become a small Class IV. As our boat slid down the smooth green tongue of water leading into the foaming waves crashing over rocks below, Bear accidentally dropped one of the oars. The raft immediately turned sideways, rearing up and tipping us all into the river, and flipping over our heads as we were swept into the heart of the rapid.
As I swam to the surface of the river, freezing water splashed over my head. Panicked, I realized I couldn’t see Bison. Bear popped up next to me, and grabbed a hold of the raft as I climbed atop the capsized boat. Uncontrollably shivering, I watched as both of Bison’s Crocs floated by. I glanced upstream and saw him climbing ashore, twenty yards above us. Bear looked at me, full of concern, and shouted, “Where do we take the raft?” We paddled to shore, flipped the raft upright, and finished our journey down the river after having found Bison on the bank upstream.
We loaded our rafts back onto their respective trailers and took off to a nearby town named Chico to get dinner. The restaurant we went to was one of the nicest places I’ve ever been fortunate enough to eat at. I ate the best French onion soup of my life, and got to try a bite of filet mignon. Despite the big scary feelings lingering from the beginning of the day, I once again found myself thinking, “How is this real?”
Day 9
I awoke early the next morning and began my drive home. I was shocked at how sad leaving felt. I am a homebody. Nothing is better than being in my own bed, with my dog, surrounded by my space. Whenever we travel, I get homesick; and when we arrive back in Boise, I am always filled with excitement. However, this time, coming home felt almost disappointing. There are no ambulances to ride in, no SAR trainings to go to, no funny coworkers to practice procedures with, and no EMS gear caches to organize.
I still really miss Yellowstone, and someday when I go back, Moose has said that there will be a job waiting for me. However, right now, I can continue fueling my passion by going to EMT school, which is my plan for the coming year. I can’t wait to continue learning and growing my skills, and I’m beyond excited to feel like I’ve found something that has the potential to be my “thing.”
I feel like I have a better sense of direction and am much more prepared for the college application process as I now enter my senior year, knowing that I have an idea of what I want to end up doing. I feel reassured knowing that I am capable of much more than I thought, especially when I’m out on my own. And, I am so beyond proud of myself for being brave and taking a leap that initially felt insane, and for curating an experience that I’ll never forget.
