After the Rescue

On the hottest day of the year so far, I found myself lying in a Lancashire woodland wondering how much damage a bicycle could do to a human body.

The answer, as it turned out, was rather a lot.

A broken collarbone, broken elbow, fractured ribs, fractured hip and a dislocated kneecap, all acquired within a few seconds after I went over the handlebars while descending a gravel track through the West Pennine Moors. The bicycle escaped with little more than a scratch.

The nearest road was around half a mile away. I could not stand, walk or move very much at all. After calling 999 and giving my location using What3Words, I settled into the unfamiliar position of being entirely dependent on other people.

The paramedics who reached me on foot quickly recognised a practical problem. They could reach me. Their ambulance could not.

So they called Bolton Mountain Rescue.

The first two rescuers arrived through the trees around an hour later. At first, the response seemed surprisingly modest. Yet it soon became clear that these were not the rescue team itself so much as the advance party. Their job was to assess the situation, establish what was required and coordinate the resources waiting behind them. Before long, more volunteers appeared carrying specialist equipment designed for exactly this sort of terrain and exactly this sort of predicament.

What struck me throughout was the absence of drama.

Nobody appeared rushed. Nobody appeared uncertain. There was no visible confusion. Instead, there was the quiet confidence of people who had done the work before and trusted both their training and one another.

The professionalism revealed itself in small details. One member immediately recognised that I was becoming cold, despite the fact that I was lying outside on one of the warmest days of the year. Another produced a fentanyl lozenge that proved remarkably effective at controlling the pain. Others prepared specialist equipment that would allow me to be transported safely across rough ground. Again and again, they seemed to identify problems before those problems became obvious to me.

The rescue involved sixteen volunteers. What interested me most was the way leadership moved naturally throughout the operation. Different people took charge at different moments. Assessment, casualty handling, transport and logistics each had their own leader. The most experienced member of the team remained with the vehicles and played no role in carrying me from the hillside. Responsibility appeared to rest not with rank but with expertise.

Many organisations spend years talking about teamwork. These volunteers simply practised it.

Eventually I arrived at Royal Blackburn Hospital and entered a different system of care. The rescue ended and the treatment began. Scans, X-rays, consultations and waiting followed.

Several hours later, while sitting in a trauma cubicle, two familiar faces appeared.

Wayne and Stephen from Bolton Mountain Rescue.

I assumed they were checking on my condition.

Instead, they were looking for feedback.

How had the rescue gone from my perspective? Was there anything they could have done differently? Had they missed anything? Was there something they could learn from the incident?

I remember being genuinely surprised.

Most organisations stop learning once the objective has been achieved. Success is treated as evidence that the process worked. The report is closed. The team moves on.

Yet here were two volunteers, at the end of a successful rescue, searching for ways to improve the next one.

That was the moment that stayed with me.

Not the specialist equipment.

Not the stretcher.

Not even the rescue itself.

The determination to examine success with the same seriousness usually reserved for failure.

Leadership is often portrayed as something dramatic: a decisive intervention, a courageous act or a memorable speech. More often, it is something quieter. It is a commitment to standards. A refusal to become complacent. A willingness to ask difficult questions even when everything appears to have gone well.

Bolton Mountain Rescue rescued me from a woodland in Lancashire.

What impressed me most was that, even after the rescue had succeeded, they were still looking for ways to do it better.