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Emergency transport vehicles from Jackson and Grand Teton National Park stand ready as the park rescue helicopter lifts off to retrieve climbers injured in lightning strikes July 21 on the Grand Teton. BRADLY J. BONER / NEWS&GUIDE

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Grand Teton National Park rangers are investigating whether 21-year-old Brandon Oldenkamp’s climbing harness was properly attached to his rope when lightning knocked him off the Grand Teton and to his death July 21.

Oldenkamp was the only fatality from an intense storm of snow, hail and rain that shocked and injured 16 others near the summit of the 13,770-foot peak. The fury developed around noon, grew quickly in its intensity, hit the peak with at least six lightning strikes and lasted for more than an hour, rangers said.

In their largest rescue ever, Jenny Lake climbing rangers used a helicopter to pluck seven victims from about 13,200 feet and flew out nine others. The nine-hour marathon involved climbing through waterfalls and lightning, precision flying, evacuation of patients hanging beneath an airship, plus triage and first aid.

In all, 92 emergency workers collaborated in the effort that extended from the rangers’ Lupine Meadows rescue cache at 6,700 feet to near the summit, according to a list provided by the park. The success was marred only by the mystery of Oldenkamp’s disappearance.

Members of his party told rangers he appeared to be securely attached to a rope and on belay when lightning knocked him off the mountain from near the Belly Roll boulder on the Owen-Spalding Route. Rangers are investigating whether the victim might have attached the climbing rope to a gear loop on his harness rather than a point designed to hold body weight.

Ranger Jack McConnell was the first rescuer on scene to hear directly from the party about the fall.

“We lost one over the edge,” he reported them saying.

McConnell and ranger Helen Bowers had climbed to the distressed mountaineers from the 11,650-foot Lower Saddle, where a helicopter landed them at 1:58 p.m. Exum guide Dan Corn accompanied them from a hut-like tent that serves as guides’ high camp.

For the next seven and a half hours, they climbed from one cluster of injured mountaineers to another, assessing each and giving first aid. They directed some to descend, anchored others to the mountain and prepared the seriously injured for “short haul” evacuation beneath a helicopter.

The extent of the carnage wasn’t immediately apparent to rescuers. They first encountered two of the least injured descending from the 13,200-foot Upper Saddle.

“It was kind of confusing,” Bowers said of the initial reports.

Climber Steve Tyler made the first cell phone call at 12:24 p.m., perhaps 15 minutes after what’s thought to have been the largest lightning strike.

That call reported a party of five in trouble and injured by lightning. Then came a report of perhaps four more from a different party hurt on the Exum Ridge. Then another seven — plus one missing.

“There were people all over the mountain,” said Jim Springer, rescue coordinator at the Lupine Meadows rescue cache on the valley floor. When the totality of the disaster unfolded, “I had to basically stop and take a deep breath.”

He summoned all the emergency helpers he could, including a second helicopter from Yellowstone National Park and ambulances from Jackson and Teton County. Finally, “there was nobody else to call,” he said.

In all, there were 18 climbers in three parties. Two — the Greg Sparks and Steve Tyler parties — were on the Owen-Spalding Route and had a total of 13 people. The Alan Kline party was on the Exum Ridge and had four.

The effort was dangerous, conducted within safety parameters but worthwhile, rangers said.

“We risked a lot to save a lot,” head rescue ranger Scott Guenther said.

As McConnell, Bowers and Corn climbed from the Lower Saddle to the Upper Saddle, they found seven members of the Sparks party — the group that had lost Oldenkamp — going down the wrong way. Two members of the group were rappelling down ropes into a gully known as the Idaho Express.

“They had lost one of their climbing members; they were in a confused state,” McConnell said. “They had been hit by lightning.”

All could move, however, and McConnell directed guide Corn to usher the group to the proper descent. The two who had gone down the wrong way climbed back up.

“We had priority patients on the upper mountain,” McConnell said.

A helicopter reconnaissance had made the grim picture clear.

Up went Corn and McConnell, as Bowers moved the group toward the Black Rock Chimney. She told them to descend to more rangers who were coming up.

She urged them, while in the chimney, to grab a protruding rock sometimes called “the world’s best handhold.”

“I told them, ‘Touch that and it’s good luck,’” she said.

McConnell and Corn got to the Upper Saddle to find the Owen-Spalding Route a virtual river.

“It was running with water, a gully flusher,” McConnell said.

Above were four remaining members of the Tyler party, including Steve Tyler, 67, who made the first call for help.

The largest lightning strike “the granddaddy of them all,” knocked the group down, Tyler said. He rolled over to see his son-in-law, Troy Smith, seemingly dead.

“His eyes were rolled back and he wasn’t breathing,” Tyler said. Partly paralyzed by the lightning, he said, “all I could do was blow into his mouth. It must have been six breaths when he started to breathe on his own.”

Tyler’s son Mike was below with Tyler’s other son, Dan, who also was injured. Mike Tyler descended for help.

Steve Tyler called with his cell phone three times. Springer, the rescue organizer, recounted one phone conversation with an injured climber.

“It was really cold,” Springer said. “He couldn’t move. There was definitely a sense of desperation in his voice. I just had to be encouraging.”

Ranger McConnell got to Steve Tyler’s party and hailed a greeting.

“How’s it going?” he said he yelled. “Jenny Lake rescue. We’re going to get you off the mountain. Just sit tight.”

McConnell got to one victim.

“He was numb, could not feel his legs from the waist down,” the ranger said.

He and Corn assessed the four climbers who were spread out above and below the Owen Chimney. Rescuers left the lowest — Dan Tyler — anchored to the rock to wait for more rangers.

Above the chimney, the two went to work on Steve Tyler, Troy Smith and Henry Appleton, preparing them for evacuation.

“They all could tell me their name — that, as an emergency provider, puts you at ease,” McConnell said.

A helicopter would evacuate them, McConnell told the group, “if we get a weather window.” He explained how they would put on “screamer suits” — full body harnesses — and how the helicopter would hover above, dangling a line to which they would be attached. It would pick them up and fly them down to the Lower Saddle and other rangers.

“They said ‘screamer suit? What does that mean?’” McConnell said.

“You will be removed from this site via a long line attached to the helicopter and delivered to the Lower Saddle and received by rangers,” he told them using language of the rescuer. “Completely secure” was another phrase he used, along with “the best ride in the Tetons.”

“There was no resistance,” McConnell said. “They wanted to press the easy button and get out of there.”

At 4:48 p.m., the park rescue ship piloted by Matt Heart plucked Smith and Appleton off the peak and flew them to the Lower Saddle. The airship brought the two harness suits back to the site before weather closed in and flights stopped.

McConnell and Corn tossed one suit down to rangers Marty Vidak and Drew Hardesty, who were with Dan Tyler. The ranger and guide then walked Steve Tyler about 150 feet to the top of the normal Owen-Spalding descent rappel. They lowered him directly to the Upper Saddle and flat ground where Bowers had stopped to collect victims and coordinate movements. They rappelled to that spot to wait out the next storm.

“Unfortunately, we had to leave Marty and Drew behind with the other patient,” McConnell said. “He was as injured as anybody.”

The two rangers and Dan Tyler were left exposed on the upper mountain as more lightning and rain hit the peak. Just two rope lengths away, McConnell, Corn, Steve Tyler and Bowers were huddled in a large cave, hoping they wouldn’t get shocked.

Meanwhile, Alan Kline, Matt Walker and Elizabeth Smith had made their own way off the Exum Ridge to the Upper Saddle. They had been the highest party on the mountain and were shocked at least four times.

“I just remember screaming in pain,” Walker said. “One of the images burned in my brain is looking at my friends and seeing the anguish in their faces.”

Lightning burned Walker in several places, and he couldn’t use his right foot. Smith couldn’t grip a rope. They sent partner Andrew Larson down for help.

Kline, a certified mountain guide on a busman’s holiday, took charge.

He lowered Smith, while Walker hobbled and rappelled. They moved down the summit pyramid and found the anchors for the final rappel to the Upper Saddle and relative safety.

“I saw a lot of resilience,” Bowers said of the Kline party. “They had taken the initiative to get themselves off. They were wet, they were injured and they were tired. They smelled like burned flesh and hair.”

One member of the party, Walker said, lost a finger in the incident. When he reached Bowers, he collapsed.

“All my emotions washed over me and I broke down,” Walker said.

The trial wasn’t over, however. At the Upper Saddle, yet another bolt shocked McConnell.

“It felt like somebody punched me in my hand, through my arm and out the elbow,” he said. “The Upper Saddle is not a safe place to be. There’s [historically] a lot of singeing of mittens and raised eyebrows.”

Approximately two hours later, the weather cleared enough so the Grand Teton rescue helicopter could return for Dan Tyler at the base of the Owen Chimney. Pilot Heart lifted him off the peak at 6:45 p.m.

Two minutes before 7 p.m., the ship returned for two of Kline’s Exum Ridge group. At 7:15 p.m., Heart picked up Steve Tyler and the last patient from the Exum Ridge team, landing them at the Lower Saddle.

There, medical doctor A.J. Wheeler had taken over the Exum tent hut as an emergency and triage room. After seeing patients there, he ordered them to one of the airships for the flight to the valley floor rescue cache.

At 7:56 p.m., the last climber landed at the Lupine Meadows cache. One helicopter then searched the bottom of the West Face that evening, but spotters saw no sign of Oldenkamp.

Three rangers stayed on the Lower Saddle that night. They found his body the next day.

All five climbers admitted to St. John’s Medical Center on July 21 were discharged during the weekend, officials there said. One patient flown to the Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center in Idaho Falls also has been discharged.

Springer said that while most thunderstorms occur in the afternoon, it is “not rare” for them to bloom earlier.

“Seasoned climbers will retreat at signs of building clouds,” he said. All three parties “were going up in the face of deteriorating weather,” Springer said. Among each, there was talk of sitting the storms out, he said.

Sparks’ party, of which Oldenkamp was a member, started that morning from the moraine camping zone just below the Lower Saddle; the other two groups had camped at the saddle.

Six Exum Mountain Guides employees climbed to the summit the morning of the storm with 12 clients, most via the Exum Ridge and the latest reaching the top at 9:15 a.m.

One more Exum guide attempting to climb the peak with a client in a day turned back in the face of weather from just above the Lower Saddle at 10:30 a.m., Exum guides said. A Jackson Hole Mountain Guides employee was on the summit pyramid with a client but retreated, saying, “If we continue from here, it will be very risky,” rangers said.

The storm moved in with wind, rain and snow, to begin with. Climbers said they saw a break and blue skies after an initial pulse. The two groups on the Owen-Spalding Route turned back before they were hit. Walker’s party on the Exum Ridge was stalled by the first weather, then hit by the big storm.

“We thought it would go south of us, but it kind of crept up on us,” Walker said.

He said his partners don’t think they would have been any better off if they had tried to retreat earlier, as they would have been caught by the storm at the rappel.

Steve Tyler, a Provo, Utah, resident who first climbed the Grand in 1966, said he remembers that summer not making the summit on his first attempt.

“Another party waited it out,” he said. “They got it and we didn’t. They waited it out and we didn’t.”

He said that has colored his perspective. A lifelong climber, he said he had a rule of thumb to not change plans with forecasts of 20 percent to 30 percent chance of thunderstorms.

“I may lower that standard a bit,” he said.

— Kelsey Dayton and Kevin Huelsmann contributed to this story. For more coverage from this incident, see the July 28, 2010 edition of the Jackson Hole News&Guide.