I love the outdoors. Some of my best moments have been spent backpacking in the Pacific Northwest or, more recently, rafting the rivers of Colorado and Utah. So, last fall, when Apple introduced a new iPhone 14 SOS feature...
A search-and-rescue helicopter responds to Jones Creek in Dinosaur National Monument after receiving an iPhone SOS call. (Photo via Kristi Stiffler.)
I love the outdoors. Some of my best moments have been spent backpacking in the Pacific Northwest or, more recently, rafting the rivers of Colorado and Utah.
So, last fall, when Apple introduced a new iPhone 14 SOS feature that allowed users to send emergency messages via low-orbit satellites from the wilderness, I was intrigued. I bought the new device, walked through a demo explaining how to use the technology, and then basically forgot about it — until June 28, 2023.
Satellite connectivity seemed like a beneficial feature, but hopefully one I’d never have to use. The ability to send a text to search-and-rescue teams from beyond cellular range could save my life or the life of a hiking companion.
Little did I know that the feature would spark a multi-person search for me — including a helicopter crew — while I was hiking in Dinosaur National Monument near the Colorado and Utah border this summer.
The incident was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. (I was safe, after all.) It also made me question the use of technology in the backcountry.
Tuesday’s big Apple iPhone 15 launch — which opened with a dramatic montage of people escaping life-threatening situations thanks to the SOS satellite technology — rekindled a story I’ve been meaning to tell. (This time beyond family and friends.)
It’s the story of an iPhone butt-dial that went horribly wrong. Here’s what happened.
A chance to disconnect and recharge
Jones Hole Trail in Dinosaur National Monument. (GeekWire Photo / John Cook)
My brother — a Seattle environmental consultant who earned his master’s degree in geology from Northern Arizona University — spends a week or two each summer leading geological-based rafting trips on the Yampa and Green rivers. It’s a hobby, and a deep love of his.
Friends, family members and others who simply want to escape our always-on society tune out of the technological rat race to float through the glorious Weber Sandstone cliffs, get splashed at the Warm Springs rapid or observe bighorn sheep frolicking by the riverside.
The trips have become a regular tradition in our family.
Our group crosses Jones Creek on the Utah side of Dinosaur National Monument. (GeekWire Photo / John Cook)
This year, on the second to last day of our five-day voyage on the Yampa and Green rivers, our crew took a side hike along Jones Creek. It’s one of the most beautiful places in Dinosaur National Monument.
The hike is capped off with an amazing geological feature in which a person (typically a teenager, in this case my son) can plug (with their rear end) a running stream to build up water in a pool that then — when the butt is lifted — unleashes a powerful torrent of ice cold runoff that cascades about 12 feet below onto a sweaty hiker.
It’s amazing, and refreshing.
It’s also one of my favorite moments to capture on video, especially of newbies who’ve never experienced anything quite like this in the wilderness. Check out GeekWire reporter Lisa Stiffler, who was also on the rafting trip, getting doused here:
Trouble at ‘Butt Dam Falls’
And this is where it appears things went a little haywire.
I actually debated whether I should bring my iPhone 14 on this trip. (My sister-in-law lost hers in the river, by the way.) The device was packed away for most of the voyage, and I only brought it out when capturing some fun moments on side hikes — like the one up Jones Creek to what most of us affectionately call “butt dam falls.”
In the process of turning off the phone (or what I thought was turning off the phone by simultaneously holding the volume and side button), I inadvertently — and to this day I do not know what happened — set off a satellite SOS alert.
Thinking my phone was turned off, I tossed it into my fanny pack and headed back down the canyon.
Little did I know that the SOS alert activated more than a dozen search and rescue personnel miles away.
They were looking for me. But I didn’t need help.
I blissfully continued down the trail, stopping at points to take in the views. About midway on the hike, I took out my phone for a photo of the striking landscape and noticed a text message in red from SOS Emergency Services.
The message read:
Emergency SOS Report:
—Sickness or Injury
Information Sent
—Emergency Questionnaire
—Medical ID
—Current Location
There was no indication that the message was about me. The message did not ask if I was OK or if I needed help.
It appeared impersonal, automated, and generic.
I didn’t think twice that it was meant for me, since I had not (in my mind) activated the SOS alert through the normal mechanisms by which the satellite messaging is triggered. I figured someone was lost or hurt in the National Monument, and search and rescue personnel were sending out a general alert to those in the area. Kind of like an alert of flash flooding or wildfires.
I turned off my phone and continued hiking for another 25 minutes or so, crossing Jones Creek to return to our camp where a couple guides had remained. A few minutes later we heard the whir of a helicopter buzzing 30-feet above Jones Creek, making an impressive 360-degree turn at the confluence with the Green River and then heading back up the side canyon.
I first wondered if anyone in our group — those hiking behind me — might be hurt. A sprained ankle in the creek crossing? A fall from a cliff?
And then it clicked.
Was this because of the SOS alert from my device? Could they be looking for me?
I got out my phone, and consulted with the lead guide of our trip to see a series of additional text messages.
My heart sank.
Indeed, they were looking for me.
Flustered, I handed the phone to our lead guide who activated the satellite functionality, and sent a text message: “Jones 1. No emergency” — referencing our camp location.
To this day, I can’t explain what happened.
I never heard an audible alert on my phone, saw bright lights or felt haptics, warnings that Apple says notifies users before emergency personnel are contacted and gives time for people to disable the call for help. To my knowledge, I also did not drag the slider bar to activate the SOS call, nor did I receive a questionnaire (on the initial message).
Apple does note that in backcountry settings that messages may take “from 15 seconds to more than a minute to get through depending on conditions” and, if under heavy foliage or surrounded by other obstructions, “you might not be able to connect to a satellite.”
Even still, all of this remains a mystery. It’s supposed to be a multi-step process to activate the SOS alert, and I didn’t consciously do any of those things.
An inadvertent butt call, from butt dam falls.
Later that evening, a Dinosaur National Monument park ranger arrived at our camp, seeking answers on the mishap.
I apologized, and expressed my gratitude to the search and rescue teams. He was stern, but understanding. Mainly, he was glad I was safe.
(Interestingly, on my brother’s voyage on the Yampa River the following week, one of the guides was stricken with severe heat stroke and dehydration, and a helicopter crew was called via a Garmin inReach satellite device for a dramatic beach rescue.)
Searching for answers
I’ve continued to rack my brain on what happened that June afternoon. I’ve studied Apple’s literature and stories about the satellite SOS functionality. I still can’t explain it.
Later, I questioned why the same buttons used to turn the phone on and off — the side and volume buttons — are used to activate the satellite SOS alert. Turning the phone on and off is a common occurrence when I’ve been in the wilderness, so as to preserve battery life.
There are two ways to activate the satellite SOS. One is by holding the side button and one of the volume buttons simultaneously, activating a slider bar on the phone’s main display that shows “SOS Emergency Call” as an option. The other is by pressing the side button in rapid succession five times, which also prompts the slider bar.
Apple declined to comment for this story.
I contacted the National Park Service to see if I was just one of many examples. Has the introduction of the iPhone 14 with its satellite SOS functionality caused a wave of false alarms in the wilderness?
The short answer: No.
“Looking over the current data, we have not seen a significant uptick in the iPhone 14 false alarms or unintentional activations, but we’ve had a couple,” said Brian Sikes, deputy chief of emergency services at the National Park Service.
Sikes noted that satellite phones and other communication devices have been deployed in the backcountry for years. While the ubiquity of the iPhone could eventually drive additional inadvertent calls, for now he said “we’ll take an acceptable amount of false alarms to ensure that we respond to people who need help.”
Jason Griswold, chief ranger at Dinosaur National Monument, where my incident occurred, said they’ve not noticed a big trend in false alarm calls in the past 12 months.
However, he said my incident in late June marked the second accidental activation involving an iPhone in about a year, with the other occurring over a cellular network from the Deerlodge area of the park. He also noted there were two other accidental activations in that time period from other satellite devices.
Anecdotally, guides on our trip said they’ve noticed an increased number of helicopters flying over the monument.
As of earlier this summer, Griswold said the park was not considering new rules to limit the use of satellite phone technology in Dinosaur National Monument.
Sikes also said there’s no policy at a national level related to the satellite SOS functionality, though some parks with a lot of backcountry usage may decide to incorporate additional educational information into their briefings. Right now, he said false alarms from iPhones are not “high on my list of concerns.”
“Talk to me in five years and my position may have changed,” he said. “But with the current data that’s in front of us, I’m happier that they are there, than not being there, that’s for sure.”
Search and rescue calls actually have dropped over the past six years, from 5,395 in 2016 to 3,428 in 2022, according to the National Park Service. The National Park Service did not have detailed numbers available on search and rescue activities this year.
Apple’s new satellite feature
Of course, the iPhone 14 with satellite connectivity was released last September, so it has only been on the market for 12 months. With Wednesday’s release of the iPhone 15, many more phone users will trek into the wilderness either knowingly or unknowingly with satellite SOS on their phones.
In fact, Apple on Tuesday made a big splash with the rollout of the iPhone 15, touting an adjacent technology that connects users with roadside assistance via AAA over satellite.
Apple’s new roadside assistance feature. (Apple Photos)
There certainly have been high-profile incidents in which the SOS satellite technology helped save lives, most recently during the devastating fires in Lahaina. A woman from Issaquah, Wash., and her friend survived in a pool while the fires raged around them, using the iPhone’s satellite functionality to contact emergency personnel. A stranded hiker in California also used the technology earlier this summer to call for help.
Dozens of other inspiring stories have emerged over the past year, several highlighted in Apple’s slick launch event on Tuesday in which the company declared: “In an emergency, iPhone has your back.”
However, Apple also faced criticism earlier this year when skiers, mountain bikers and other athletes using iPhone 14s and Apple Watches inadvertently set off the crash-detection alerting system after a fall, causing havoc for 911 operators in many mountain towns in the U.S..
After my satellite mishap on Jones Hole trail, I was nervous to turn on the iPhone for the rest of the rafting trip.
On subsequent hikes, I’ve made a point of switching my iPhone to airplane mode, which nullifies the ability to make a satellite call. It also stops the ability to get important safety messages, so that should be taken into consideration when spending time in the backcountry.
And speaking of satellites, a strange thing happened the night before my inadvertent butt call.
I was sleeping outdoors under the brilliant stars with my family, when I awoke early in the morning.
Looking up to thousands of stars above, a parade of more than 50 bright Starlink satellites marched in unison in a solid line across the night sky. The procession lasted less than two minutes before they disappeared on the opposite horizon.
The brightness and intensity took me back for a moment to modern civilization, away from a place where we’d been pondering the wonders of geologic time.
It was cool to see this procession, the second time I’ve spotted a satellite train in the night sky.
I woke up later that morning, and after explaining to the group what I saw, I had mixed emotions.
Yes, the technological marvel — and connectedness provided by the satellites — was impressive.
But aren’t there some spots where you’d rather not be tethered by a device to a convoy of satellites above? Places where connectivity is about the attachment to 300 million year-old sun-baked canyon walls or rushing rivers or endless starry nights.
Next time I’m in the backcountry, I think I’ll leave my phone turned off … unless I need it for a true emergency.
