Hamilton firefighter lives to tell of horrific plunge from Albion Falls during hiker rescue
The firefighter was falling, and in the moment saw the face of the cliff racing by as he reached to grab something, anything; a branch, a rock.
But there was only air.
Fire department; hello? Are you there? Fire department!"
Minutes earlier, Capt. Charles Madder shone his flashlight into the darkness, calling out, standing atop Albion Falls in east Hamilton.
Along with 20 members of the Hamilton Fire Department's high-angle rope rescue team, he searched for three lost hikers.
This was last year on a clear July night, just after 9:30 p.m.
The team had not geared-up: first they needed to find the hikers.
Madder wore his station work uniform, dark pants and short-sleeve shirt.
He unlocked a security gate and, along with a partner, walked out on an outcropping of rock to get a better look.
I was standing there a minute or two," says Madder. And I turned to (my colleague) and said, We're going to have to upgrade the call,' and that's when it happened. I remember rock breaking, and the expression on his face, and the cliff going by as I fell."
Madder grew up three hours north of Thunder Bay and followed his dad serving with the volunteer fire department, first as a cadet at 16, and in summers to come when he returned home from playing Junior A hockey out west.
After moving to southern Ontario, Madder landed a position with the real deal in Hamilton.
My start date was Sept. 4, 2007."
He was on the rope rescue unit five years, and then hazardous materials team, before returning to rope rescue at Station 17 on the east Mountain.
The Albion Falls call came July 31, 2019, two weeks after he turned 39.
When he fell, he was facing the cliff, plunging 20 to 30 feet, or nearly nine metres, before landing on another outcropping, and tumbling five metres more into a shallow stream below.
Madder's head and chin split and his nose nearly tore off. The pain in his face was excruciating.
A ten," he says.
He managed to stand on his own before going into shock.
Injuries included a fractured skull and orbital bone, and two brain bleeds. He saw a psychologist, a PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) preventive maintenance program, sort of," he says.
After seeing her weekly, it's down to once a month.
He feels gratitude to staff at Hamilton General Hospital, where his upper-right sinus was removed, titanium plates inserted in his forehead, and nose reconstructed.
They asked if he would serve as ambassador for the Strides for the General fundraiser - a virtual event this year - and he accepted. (To register go to hamiltonhealth.ca/strides)
I wouldn't be here if not for their technology and care; it's important I give back. I was honoured they asked me."
Madder says he holds no bitterness for the hikers, who strayed from the designated path and put themselves in danger.
We see people on their worst day, and a lot of times they have made mistakes, but I'm not there to judge, I'm there to help."
When he returned to the scene of the fall with his wife, Suzanne, she was emotional, seeing how close to death he had been.
Madder chalks it up to a freak accident and the memory does not shake him. What does get to him is reflecting on the pain it caused his family. They have two young sons, Austin and Dylan.
As for the job, he says he isn't far off returning to regular duty, answering any call.
I'm looking forward to it."
For all the broken bones and sheared skin, clearly the firefighter that has long been inside him is still very much whole.
Jon Wells is a Hamilton-based reporter and feature writer for The Spectator. Reach him via email: jwells@thespec.com