Home to a second-floor apartment in Southie and the family who expected to be dazzled by stories of an inquisitive 16-year-old girl’s first great adventure, some 3,000 miles away in the Utah desert.
“She was going to come home with a whole new view of life,” Elisa Woods softly recalled yesterday, in a voice every bit as heavy as it was hollow. “I called her my miracle,” this mother said of her youngest child and only daughter. “I had hemorrhaged (during the pregnancy) and the doctors at St. Margaret’s thought both of us were going to die. Her father and I couldn’t agree on a first name, so I gave her mine.”
In place of sleep, Woods spent all of Friday night and yesterday morning tenderly laying out the moments of her daughter’s life on a white poster board. Today, that collage of pictures will stand inside O’Brien’s Funeral Home, where a shattered universe of young and old will see Elisa’s radiant smile, hear her voice and be reminded of the kind and generous spirit who’s been so inexplicably taken from them. Tomorrow, on the day Elisa should have come home, she will be buried.
“All that matters to me right now,” her mother said, “is laying my baby to rest. I want to make sure she’s at peace. That’s the most important thing. As for everything else, well, that can wait . . . ” Woods’ voice trailed off, but not the simmering pain in it. The “everything else” she alluded to happened to be the worst nightmare of every parent.
A child who was a joy, who earned good grades in school and the respect of everyone she met, wrote an essay for the Summer Search scholarship program that won her a spot on a 22-day Outward Bound Wilderness expedition in Utah. Woods, who freely admitted, “I’ve always been overprotective of my ‘miracle baby,’ ” was fearful and uneasy about the cross-country journey her daughter yearned to make.
“I was worried that there wasn’t enough supervision,” Woods said, “and that’s exactly what I said to Meg, the person who was Alisa’s mentor at Summer Search. “But Meg assured me that there was going to be plenty of supervision and that nobody has ever died on one of these (Outward Bound) trips. And that was a lie.
“They lied to me,” Woods said, her voice breaking under the weight of anger and regret. “If they had given me the answers they were supposed to, if they told me my little girl would be walking around in 110-degree heat . . . in a desert . . . by herself . . . I would’ve taken her right out. She never would’ve gone in the first place,” Woods said. “And sure, she would’ve been mad at me. But she’d still be alive.”
A couple of days ago, Woods listened to a woman’s sobs on the other end of her phone line. A month earlier, the same woman had convinced Woods to suspend her fear and entrust her only daughter into the hands of strangers -strangers who were supposed to provide her with a life-affirming experience. Now, all the woman could say amid her sobs was, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.
“ ‘You’re sorry!’ I told her. ‘What about me?’ I said. ‘What do you think I’m feeling? You lied to me!’ ”
Snoozing on a chair in that living room yesterday was a cat named Trouble, waiting for a 16-year-girl to come home, so he could curl up in her bed once more.
“My daughter, my baby, dreamed about being either a veterinarian or a pediatric orthodontist,” Woods said. “She would’ve done it, too. She has a brother who graduated from MIT on a full scholarship. She knew what the future held for her. And now . . . my heart’s breaking over how she suffered.
Why did two hikers die in Utah desert?
Autopsies pending: N.J. man in survival course carried no water; Boston teen, party got separated
July 20, 2006
By Christopher Smart
Two East Coast hikers died Sunday and Monday while participating in organized programs under scorching temperatures in southern Utah's redrock country.
The question is why?
Autopsies scheduled for Wednesday may reveal the physical causes of death for Elisa D. Santry, 16, of Boston, and Dave Bushow, 29, of River Vale, N.J.
But other questions will linger.
Why were they hiking in such extreme heat? Had they consumed enough water and electrolytes? Did their guides have experience in recognizing heat exhaustion?
Circumstances surrounding their deaths were ripe for tragedy, according to veteran desert hiker and backpacker Steve Lewis.
"The jump from heat exhaustion to heat stroke can be very quick. I call it the 'silent stalker.' It can grab the most resilient hiker," he said Wednesday. "But an experienced hiker knows you don't plan hikes for the middle of the day when temperatures are that high."
Santry was on the 16th day of a 22-day Outward Bound "multi-element" course that included hiking, backpacking and rafting. On the day of her death, she was hiking in temperatures of up to 110 degrees in the Lockhart Canyon area near Canyonlands National Park, according to the San Juan County Sheriff's Office.
By contrast, Bushow was on the first day of a 28-day survival course offered by the Boulder Outdoor Survival School. Temperatures were in the mid-to-high 90s as he climbed through the rugged Cottonwood Wash of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. He carried no water.
State regulations for wilderness-therapy programs disallow hiking in temperatures above 90 degrees and demand consumption of at least three quarts of water when temperatures top 80 degrees. But volunteer programs, such as Outward Bound and Boulder Outdoor Survival School, are not regulated, according to Ken Stettler, director of the licensing office for the state Department of Human Services.
Both victims were in areas where heat is reflected off sand and canyon walls, and high temperatures are intensified, Lewis said. If they were unfamiliar with desert hiking, they might not have recognized the peril they were in.
"If you're in sandy or rocky areas, you get the furnace effect," he said. "People who don't have experience [with heat exhaustion] can't relate to what is happening to them. And then, a truck just hits you."
Santry became separated from her party, as the group of six hiked toward rafts waiting for them at the Colorado River, according to Mickey Freeman, Outward Bound Wilderness.
Her colleagues noticed her missing about 6 p.m. Her body was found about 11 p.m. There was water remaining in her bottle.
"We've never had a heat-related death, or a water-dehydration death, in 45 years," Freeman said.
Bushow was at the end of the first day of what is called "impact days," where participants are not allowed to carry food or water, according to Diane Nagler of the Boulder, Colo.- based survival school.
"Although you don't carry food and water with you, the instructor guides you to food and water in nature," she said. Participants "don't carry water bottles, but they do carry cups."
Bushow, who had complained of muscle cramps and fatigue, sat down at 7:30 p.m. to rest and apparently passed out. A few minutes later, his companions could find no pulse.
Survival school guides are certified through the Wilderness Medicine Institute of Nols, Nagler noted. The 10-day, first-responder program extensively covers heat exhaustion, its warning signs and treatment, she said.
Outward Bound instructors receive extensive first-responder training and are always looking for warning signs of heat exhaustion, said Freeman.
Lewis said backcountry hikers and guides must be flexible enough to modify hikes when temperatures soar to the mid-90s.
"The leadership of those groups should have had enough sense to change plans, to get in the shade and stay there. People who don't change plans walk into a trap," he said.
"That's what happens. They roll the dice and people die."
A magic person has left us far too soon, and we are the ones who are poorer for her departure. Elisa Santry was smart, loving, cheerful, and always adventurous.
Elisa Santry was a premature baby. Perhaps her early birth symbolized her whole life. One of Elisa’s most striking characteristics was her ability to come up with an idea and run with it on her own. As she grew, she developed many interests, but there was a thread – a love of nature – that ran through her life.
Elisa was active from the beginning – a modern young girl who loved sports and activities. She played soccer at five, performed in school plays, and became a cheerleader. In a few years, she began studying ballet. But the schoolwork was always first. Elisa was a really good student.
When she was five, Elisa took her first hike. It was to the top of the Blue Hill Observatory Tower. See her picture taken in the observatory tower. It combines an impish smile with a “See how well I did” expression.
Elisa visited her oldest brother, Michael, in San Francisco when she was eleven. The trip involved innumerable experiences, ranging from pushup contests to splatters of purple hair gel all over the bathroom. She saw sea lions and deer in Monterrey; she walked the Pinnacle National Monument. The photographs show how she was growing and maturing.
Elisa was strong in mathematics and the sciences. She excelled at the Harbor School, the charter school that occupies the old M.R.M. School. On her own, she took the exams and got into the O’Bryant High School of Mathematics and Science. That she did well in her technical courses goes without saying.
In addition, Elisa aced her course in Creative Writing. Clearly, she was a multi-talented, multi-level young woman. Her career plans weren’t yet formed, but at one time or another, she had considered becoming a veterinarian, a pediatrician, a singer, or an actress.
Family mattered to Elisa. Last year, she set up a “Spring Fiori” – a Spring Flowers party. Flowers adorned the house and deck. She and her friend, Heather, helped her adored nephew and nieces, Kevin, Jenna, and Ka-Leigh, plant flowers all over the backyard. And there was always time to revisit the Blue Hills when brother Michael came in from the West Coast. Take a good long look at the picture of willowy, beautiful Elisa, now 15, standing in the waters of Ponkapoag.
Elisa died during an Outward Bound expedition in the canyons of Utah. The heat was infernal; an injury to another member split the expedition in two. The exact details of what finally happened to her may never be entirely clear.
Her mother, Elisa Woods, and her family are mourning. They can only hope for some kind of closure to this tragedy. We all mourn at the passing of one so young, so promising. It’s time to bring her memory home.
Farewell and Godspeed, Elisa. Your memory will be forever fresh. Forever sixteen.
There is presently a memorial fund being set up at the Mt. Washington Bank in Elisa Santry's name. Please make your
donation in Elisa's name and send it to Mt. Washington Bank, 430 West Broadway, South Boston, MA 02127.
Also, there is a Memorial Scholarship fundraiser being planned for the near future.
