Last week on Mt Shasta there was a rescue that seems to have created a lot of conversation lately. The rescue involved three climbers who used Google’s Gemini to help plan their trip. The story has generated the usual mix of reasonable criticism, armchair quarter-backing, and some opinions that, let’s face it, probably would have been better left unsaid.
The facts around the rescue are pretty straightforward. Three individuals attempted a climb on Shasta’s Clear Creek route. They relied heavily on AI for route and equipment information, ended up on a much later than planned schedule, descended into the dark, went off route, and eventually became stranded in Mud Creek Canyon after one of them became injured. U.S. Forest Service climbing rangers and Siskiyou County Search and Rescue volunteers responded and brought them out safely. The climbers have since acknowledged that they had relied too heavily on AI rather than their own judgment.
I myself, as a guide, avalanche educator, and SAR volunteer, don’t have much interest in arguing that their decisions were good ones. Honestly, they weren’t the best, or the worst I’ve seen. There are plenty of lessons in this one about preparation, navigation, turnaround times, carrying enough food and water, having backup navigation methods, and understanding the difference between information and experience.
With all this being said, there is another part of the story that has bothered me. Some people have suggested that because the climbers made some poor decisions, they should be charged for their rescue. I will say, in some situations, that idea sounds pretty reasonable, that is until you spend some time around Search and Rescue.
The idea of going out to find someone in trouble isn’t particularly new. People have been helping other people out of bad situations for as long as people have been getting themselves into bad situations.
In the United States, for example, some of the earliest organized federal rescue efforts grew out of maritime disasters. The U.S. Revenue Cutter Service, established in 1790, began assisting vessels in distress as part of the old maritime tradition that a person in trouble was someone you helped. Those early rescues eventually developed into the United States Life-Saving Service in the late 1800s, which has since become part of the modern U.S. Coast Guard.
Land-based Search and Rescue developed in a more gradual way. There wasn’t one grand moment when somebody announced, “Today we shall invent SAR.” Instead, it grew out of sheriffs’ offices, volunteer posses, fire departments, mountain rescue organizations, military units, aviation organizations, and even ordinary citizens who were willing to go looking when somebody was missing.
In many ways, this basic model still exists today.
In the United States, it’s the county sheriff that is responsible for coordinating SAR. Each county is slightly different in their approach, but they still use trained volunteers providing much of the actual field response. Oregon is a good example. County sheriffs coordinate SAR operations with a cohort of volunteers and emergency responders. For an idea of how big of a scale SAR is, the state of Oregon alone currently has more than 1,700 SAR volunteers responding to more than 1,000 missions each year.
I can say that for most units across the country, they aren’t a tiny little collection of people with a couple of four-wheel-drive trucks either. In fact, a nationwide study of SAR teams found approximately 1,150 teams operating in the United States, with California alone accounting for 79 teams in that dataset. That study is now nearly two decades old, so I wouldn’t pretend that 1,150 is a current national census. It’s hard to determine the exact scale of SAR team members in the U.S. This is because there isn’t a single, authoritative, up-to-date number covering every sheriff’s team, volunteer organization, fire-based team, aviation unit, mountain rescue group, and other SAR resource in the country. What I can say with confidence is that the United States has well over a thousand local and regional SAR organizations and resources, ranging from small volunteer teams to highly specialized federal units.
The Coast Guard alone handled over 6,700 SAR cases in fiscal year 2025 and saved more than 2,000 lives. NOAA’s SARSAT system has also helped locate and rescue more than 11,000 people in the United States since 1982. So when somebody says, “Search and Rescue,” we’re really talking about a huge patchwork of organizations that operate at local, state, and federal levels. Each and every one of them has some part in someone finding their way to you when your GPS stops working and you call for help.
So Why Not Send You a Bill?
This is probably the most misunderstood part of SAR.
In most of the United States, a person rescued by a county SAR team isn’t handed a bill for the cost of the search. That’s because SAR is generally treated as a public safety service rather than a commercial service. In California, for example, state law specifically provides that expenses incurred by a sheriff in performing authorized search and rescue are a proper county charge. In other words, the cost is typically absorbed by the public system rather than it being a bill sent to the person who was rescued.
Don’t misunderstand that as meaning the rescue is free! Instead, it means the rescued person generally isn’t the one paying the bill. This is an important distinction that matters and should be understood.
The people who show up may be volunteers. The county may provide vehicles, radios, snowmobiles, medical equipment, and various other resources. Specialized equipment may even come from other agencies. Aircraft may be provided through another government agency or mutual-aid agreement. Training, equipment replacement, insurance, fuel, communications, and administration all cost money.
In Oregon, for example, SAR is heavily volunteer driven, while the Oregon Search and Rescue Fund helps provide training and equipment for many units. The system is supported by public funding and donations rather than charging the individual who is pulled out of the woods. This is important to know because SAR must work when someone needs help, not just when someone has made good decisions or is able to pay the bill. The fact that SAR is under public funding allows this to happen.
Just think, if SAR required funding from billing the rescued, would the personnel, equipment, and training all be available at any time when needed? Beyond that, if the person who called for help knew they were going to receive a $15,000 bill, would they even call? Maybe. Do you think everyone who needed help would, or only those that could pay the bill? Regardless, this is the part I don’t want to test.
Imagine it’s you that were on a mountain, floating the Rogue River, or hiking the PCT. Maybe you made some mistakes along the way. Perhaps you underestimated the weather, or you didn’t bring enough layers to prevent hypothermia. Maybe you took a wrong turn. Maybe you started too late. Maybe you simply took a fall and can no longer walk out.
Now imagine you know that every hour a helicopter spends looking for you, every rescuer who walks towards your location, every snowmobile that leaves the trailhead could eventually appear on a bill with your name on it.
Would you be completely honest with dispatch? Would you call as early as you should? Would you tell them exactly where you are? Or would you spend another 6 hours trying to fix the situation yourself because you’re afraid of what the rescue might cost?
From a SAR perspective, early notification is incredibly valuable for us. It takes time for us to mobilize and get on scene. We’d rather have an early call, get on our way, and then have you call again letting us know we’re no longer needed. This is because a relatively simple rescue at 2 p.m. can become a very complex rescue at 2 a.m. The earlier rescuers know where someone is, what condition they’re in, and what’s going on, the more options they have. Oftentimes, the best thing a person can do is make the phone call before the situation becomes more serious.
That’s one reason the philosophy of “we’ll come get you” is so important.
It is certainly not a reward for good behavior. It’s more of a safety net that works best when people aren’t afraid to use it.
SAR Isn’t Always Free Though
There is an important caveat with all of this, though. There is no universal American law saying that Search and Rescue can never charge someone. Some states specifically allow reimbursement under certain circumstances.
Oregon, for example, allows a public body to seek reimbursement of up to $500 per individual, and only up to the actual cost of the rescue, when reasonable care wasn’t exercised or applicable laws were violated. My unit, to my knowledge, has only done this once in our history.
New Hampshire has a different approach. State law allows recovery of response expenses when someone recklessly or intentionally creates a situation requiring an emergency response. They instead have a liability capped at $10,000 for a single public-agency response incident. The law also covers certain other circumstances, including some incidents involving impaired operation of vehicles or threats to harm oneself or others.
California, on the other hand, is considerably more restrictive. California law generally makes SAR a county responsibility, but there are circumstances in which costs can be recovered, particularly when specific criminal or intentional conduct is involved. The current statute allows certain residents age 16 or older to be billed for actual costs when extraordinary methods were required and the rescue was caused by an intentional act knowingly violating a law or ordinance that resulted in a criminal conviction.
That’s a pretty significant difference from simply saying, “You made a bad decision, so here’s your bill.”
The Rescue Bill You Might Actually Receive
There is another wrinkle that often gets lost in these conversations too. Search and Rescue being free does not mean the entire incident is free. If SAR finds you, stabilizes you, and walks you back to the trailhead, there may be no bill for that rescue.
But if you require an ambulance, that’s a different service. If you’re transported to a hospital, that’s another service. If you need surgery, imaging, medications, an air ambulance, or other medical treatment, those services can absolutely generate bills.
SAR may get you out of the bad situation for free, but that doesn’t mean the hospital is going to high-five you and wave goodbye after a surgery.
This is an important distinction because SAR teams frequently provide first aid and evacuation, but they are not the medical provider or specialist responsible for your continuing care. The rescue gets you from “bad place” to “place where professional medical care can take over.” Knowing this handoff can be one of the most important parts of the entire operation.
What About Charging People Who Make Obviously Bad Decisions?
This is where things get philosophical…
In my profession and as a volunteer SAR member, part of that time has involved a lot of time teaching people how to avoid needing Search and Rescue in the first place. Instilling the knowledge that good preparation, experience, weather forecasts, navigational skills, and knowing when to turn around all matters.
Sometimes it’s less popular, but yes, personal responsibility is still a thing and it matters.
There is a difference between holding someone responsible for making a poor decision and making someone afraid to call for help, though. Remember that a person who makes a brilliant plan can still break an ankle. It’s even true that an experienced climber can get caught in an unexpected storm. Believe it or not, a professional guide can make a navigational error. All this, but it’s also true that a beginner can have an uneventful day.
Regardless of who you are, or what your experience level, you can make a series of spectacularly questionable decisions but you still deserve to come home.
That’s the deal.
Which Brings Us Back to Mt Shasta
I don’t think the lesson from the Shasta rescue should be that people shouldn’t use AI. In fact, AI models and LLM (Long Language Models) can be incredibly helpful for several things!
Most of us use technology in some way every day. Guides use technology. Search and Rescue uses technology. Beyond finding a great recipe for meatloaf, technology is good for modern navigation methods, weather forecasting, satellite communication, mapping, avalanche forecasting, and countless other tools that have made outdoor recreation more predictable and accessible.
The problem comes when a tool becomes a substitute for our own judgment. I’m sure we’ve all heard of those stories. AI can be incredible at summarizing information. It can even help you make a packing list or explain a climbing term. It can help you organize questions to ask before signing up for a trip. However, what AI can’t do is stand at 14,000 feet, look across the horizon, feel the wind, recognize that the weather is moving in faster than expected, and say, “This isn’t looking good. We need to turn around now.”
That’s still our job as people.
It’s true, the climbers on Shasta made some poor decisions. They also did something very important: they asked for help. When they did that, people went up to help them. This is what Search and Rescue is designed to do. Not because the people who need it have earned a rescue, or because they made all the right choices. Most importantly, it wasn’t because they deserve it more than somebody else. It was because they were in trouble, and in my opinion that’s a pretty good system to have.
I hope I’m wrong on this, but someday, even I might be the person hoping that system still works that way.
Written By Caleb Burns
If you’d like to get involved in your local Search & Rescue, please do! If you’re not able to get involved physically, but still want to help them, consider donating to your local SAR unit. While the Sheriff oversees them, many have non-profits as well and rely on donations for training money, equipment needs, etc.
Here are a few I’d recommend personally:
National Association for Search and Rescue
As a small note, Nate Musson, based at our Bear Valley location, and I are both active Search and Rescue members that are incredibly proud to help our communities when people are in need.