Mortality Becomes
Reality
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This particular Easter weekend I was
nearing the end of my time in high school as I would graduate in the coming
month of June. Three friends and I decided to embark on an adventure to try
and find and visit the legendary Tom Dye Rock. One of those friends was a 17
year old young man named John Wrieden. John was always a joy to be around as
his attitude was always light hearted and funny. John’s father was Earle
Wrieden a well respected city father who was also our county Supervisor and
my mother’s employer. We John, I and our good friend Ron McDonald
headed up Western Mine Road to find the spot where we thought we could start
our search for Tom Dye Rock. Some distance up the road we met up with our
basketball coach who was along the side of the road digging in an old Chinese
camp dump site, we invited him to join us and he did. We had no idea where we were going but
we followed the ridge line that would lead to the summit of Mount St. Helena
thinking that would be the best approach. About 2 hours later we found a
large rock outcropping that had a natural cave in its westerly facing side.
We figured we must have found Tom’s hideout. There were natural paths about
three feet wide along the sheer face of the rock that appeared to lead to the
caves entrance. It was very steep terrain with lots of loose rock and shale.
I was in the lead so I started heading toward the cave on one of the paths,
our coach was next, then John and last was Ron. It was a steep drop off of
the path into more rocks about 50 feet below. After a few feet I realized I
was on the wrong path, I needed to be on the one about five feet below us so
I just dropped down and proceeded into the cave which was quite large. Next
came in coach. Ukiah Daily Journal
Location: Ukiah, California Monday, March 30, 1964 ·
“Son Killed
in Fall from Cliff ST. HELENA — John Wrieden, 17, son of Earle Wrieden of
Middletown, chairman of the Lake County Board of Supervisors, was killed
Saturday at 2 p.m. when he fell off a cliff on the Napa County side of Mount
St. Helena. The victim, a junior at Middletown high school, was hiking with
two classmates, William Wink and Ronald McDonald, when the accident occurred.
His companions said the trio was exploring caves near Tom Dye Rock when young
Wrieden lost his footing and plunged over an embankment.” We looked over the edge and saw John
move; we hustled back to the hillside and hurried down the shale and loose
rock to John. It was obvious he was badly injured. After evaluating his
condition best we could we agreed that coach would stay with John and Ron and
I would hike out to get help. We ran. Forty five minutes later we were at our
friend’s house that lived on Western Mine Road telling them the story and
that we needed help. ·
“The
Alaskan Good Friday Earthquake
occurred at 5:36 P.M. AST on Good Friday, March 27, 1964. Across
south-central Alaska, ground fissures, collapsing structures, and tsunamis
resulting from the earthquake caused about 139 deaths. (Wikipedia)” We waited, and we waited and finally
everyone started showing up. Lake County Sheriff’s Office had requested
assistance and a helicopter that was returning from Alaska to Hamilton Air
force Base was diverted to our location. My memory says there was a crew of
three. I was recruited to accompany the crew
to the scene of the accident. I had taken first-aid as a freshman in
high school plus I had studied other science courses. I knew what a compound
fracture was and how it looked and understood the damage a fall such as
John’s could do. I told the medic John had a compound
fracture of his leg above the knee, a broken arm and other injuries. In a couple minutes we were at the
site of the accident and coach was standing on top of the rock formation with
a small fire going waving his arms. When we arrived the helicopter was
unable to land so we had to descend by cable and harness to the top of the
rock formation. I was first down then followed by the medic. After the medic
descended the helicopter left and with it went the Stokes basket. I was in
disbelief, I asked the medic how we were going to get John out and he replied
he would walk out, I was further in disbelief as I had told the medic about
John’s broken leg. It seems the helicopter was returning
from Alaska and was low on fuel and had to return to Hamilton to refuel. The
plan was to get John to the top of the rock formation by the time the copter
returned so he could be evacuated.
Similar to this one Without the Stokes basket we were left
to try and improvise a stretcher made of our shirts and tree limbs which were
in scarce supply where we were. After the medic attended John’s obvious
injuries and secured them the best he could we began our task of trying to
move John from where he landed to the top of the rock which was up a steep
grade that was nothing but loose rock, shale and dirt. The medic had the
front of one tree limb, I had the other and coach had both limbs at the back.
We slipped, we fell, we slid and after about an hour we were not even half
way to the top. It has been many hours by now since John fell. John had been conscious much of the
time but by the time we reached the resting point he was not. I had his head
in my lap and was holding his hand as he passed. I called to the medic who
confirmed John’s passing. The helicopter had not yet returned. If we would have had the Stokes basket
would it have made a difference? It may have, however, even if we had made it
to the top John passed before the helicopter returned anyway. By now it was
getting dusk and the crew made the call to not try and retrieve John’s
remains but to ferry coach and I out and let ground forces hike in and bring
out John’s body. To my knowledge a crew of inmates from
Konocti Camp retrieved John’s remains. The story is, they hiked in after
dark, but it was too dangerous to try and bring John out in the dark, so they
built small fires to keep critters away and brought John out after day break. One never knows what fate awaits them.
Back then there were no counselors available you were just expected to “suck
it up” and move on as there was no other choice. Vietnam was going full steam
by 1965 and I was drafted, however, contemplating my own mortality was not
new to me, I already knew it was reality.
Read the story of Tom Dye by Kathleen Scavone Bill
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