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Boy Scouts rescue Ann Curry after TV journalist is hurt on hiking trail

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  • Boy Scouts rescue Ann Curry after TV journalist is hurt on hiking trail

    In her role as NBC journalist, Ann Curry has reported from some of the world’s hot spots, including Afghanistan, Iraq and Darfur. But when she experienced an unexpected injury on a New Jersey hiking trail, Curry found herself assisted by the Boy Scouts of America.

    Writing in Scouting Magazine, Bryan Wendell says Scouts from Berkeley Heights encountered Curry on a trail in Harriman State Park in New York. Curry, 57, had broken her ankle.

    “We were hiking along, and we came to a trail intersection,” Scouter Rick Jurgens said, “and a lady was sitting on the ground with her one leg out. We didn’t think anything of it, but one of the guys asked if everything is OK. She said, ‘No, not really. I think I broke my ankle.’ She told us to keep going, but the guys refused.”

    Although Jurgens said he recognized Curry’s voice instantly, his scouts had no idea it was the famous TV journalist. Regardless, they went to work creating a splint for Curry.

    “We work on these requirements, and here’s an opportunity where it was a true test of all those First Class, Second Class first-aid requirements,” Jurgens said. “They got to use it and use it for real. And they did an outstanding job.”

    However, Curry still wasn’t able to make it down the trail on her own. So, the Scouts “started running into the woods,” and returned with wood, which they combined with tarp, to craft a makeshift stretcher to help carry Curry to the trailhead where her husband and son had gone for help.

    By that point, forest rangers had shown up after Curry’s accident was reported.

    “They asked, ‘Is there somebody up there who needs rescuing?’ And we said, ‘It’s taken care of,’” Jurgens said.

    The Scouts then drove Curry and her family to a nearby hospital.

    More at Link
    May we raise children who love the unloved things - the dandelion, the worm, the spiderlings.
    Children who sense the rose needs the thorn and run into rainswept days the same way they turn towards the sun...
    And when they're grown and someone has to speak for those who have no voice,
    may they draw upon that wilder bond, those days of tending tender things and be the one.

  • #2
    Very excellent!
    "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."


    • #3
      Routine when I was a Scout. Someone on a trail who was apparently unable to move on their own would have been on a stretcher in a matter of moments. This was actually a typical exercise every couple of weeks, to the point that we were in trouble if our buttons were not properly sewed on to make a solid stretcher. We were expected to give up our shirts, buttoned up, to have lengths of wood run through them to create a stretcher. If that meant being cold, then so be it.

      Fortunately for me, this only ever happened once, as our Scout leader managed to break his ankle on a trip, and we carried him out (about two miles) and loaded him into a station wagon and drove him home. For my elder brother, it meant carrying someone out about fifty miles in the Middle of Damn Nowhere, New Mexico, starting at about 11,000 feet near Santa Fe. That boy had a badly broken leg but was otherwise OK, and they were in an area where a helicopter rescue wasn't possible. This was, of course, long before cell phones or even radios to contact anyone. They took turns on the litter and got him out of there and into civilization in about 48 hours.

      While not a Scout, but just a guy out camping in about 1992, I wound up running into a group that was transporting a guy who had sustained a pretty serious head injury while camping in Frozen Head State Park. The closest "civilization" was actually Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary, which at the the time held, among others, James Earl Ray. The guys at Brushy Mountain were actually very accommodating and did what they could to stabilize the guy before having him transported to Knoxville for some serious hospital treatment.
      It's been ten years since that lonely day I left you
      In the morning rain, smoking gun in hand
      Ten lonely years but how my heart, it still remembers
      Pray for me, momma, I'm a gypsy now