Pope Francis died this morning, Easter Monday. An incredible date for such a man to pass on.
The extraordinary event called to mind the deaths of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, the second and third presidents of the United States, respectively, and the last remaining revolutionary patriots of their time that had helped birth the nation.
Jefferson and Adams both died on July 4, 1826, of all days.
The Vatican reported that Pope Francis died, in part, due to heart failure.
There is something ironic about that, too. A big-hearted, selfless man devoted to the service of others, whose heart finally gave out and could bear no more.
The smallest, least among us are sometimes the most beautiful. A tiny riverside bloom standing strong in the glare of backcoutry heat.
We wandered the river on Monday morning in wonderful blue-skied weather, through the spring-greened forest and along the shores of emerald waters.
We saw a bee swarm, an osprey and a small bobcat.
We heard a resonant human voice in the canyon early on.
Then only bird song, water trickle and the breeze through the trees.
Later in the afternoon we saw two people quietly sunbathing at Red Rock on our walk back.
But once we reached the road again, the quietude was buffeted by the rising and falling groan of large, low geared engines and fast spinning wheels humming on pavement and the buzz of aircraft.
Around the corner sped trucks, larger trucks, more trucks, an ATV with a helmeted team, SUVs, and air support overhead.
There might have been about a dozen vehicles of various sorts pass by in 15 minutes.
And they all were in some hurry!
It was an all-hands-on-deck affair, with search and rescue, forest rangers and forest firefighters, in common white pick-up trucks and beefy big-wheeled green engines, sheriffs in metro black and white SUVs, county fire personnel in their beefy big-wheeled white engines, and at least one helicopter.
Two ambulances waited at the First Crossing kiosk where Paradise Road meets River Road.
Somebody or -bodies were out there in desperate need of help, but it didn’t seem their specific location was even known, based on our talk with two of the men at work.
We’re fortunate to have such a small army of selfless individuals willing to rush out into the forest at a moment’s notice to perform rescue operations, render aid and save lives.
Santa Barbara County is mostly a rural place, with Los Padres National Forest alone making up 30% of it.
First responders are tasked with providing life sustaining services across a rather large swath of rugged, hard to travel, inhospitable terrain.
It’s heartening to see so many people rushing to help a single person, so many lives working together, at risk to their own health and well-being, for just one life.
Without questions of cost or whether or not the person in need may have acted foolishly and brought it on themselves in some manner or suffered a freak accident no fault of their own.
It does not matter. A person needing help gets help, regardless.
The only questions asked are: How bad is it? and Where are they?
And then the rescuers come running.
This was a sight to see as we walked on down the road. And on this day of the pope’s passing it seemed particularly poignant, the unnamed and unknown in service to strangers.
We tip our Filson flat-brimmed hat to the good Samaritans of selfless service, who rush to our aid in times of dire need and do for us what we cannot do on our own.
We salute you!