SAFETY & SATISFACTION
Emergency Response Mine Rescue Skills Competition forges bonds, tempers technique in trial by fire, writes Nadia Moharib.
Saskatchewan’s Emergency Response Mine Rescue Skills Competition is fuelled by some serious rivalry and the knowledge that casualties are simply playing a part — but the history behind the annual event is far from fun and games.
Indeed, past mining disasters lay the foundation for the enduring significance of the competition, which offers an opportunity to demonstrate the skills rescue crews are ready to put into action should real-life emergencies arise.
The competition, which attracts 16 teams this year, marks its 50th anniversary.
“For all of the teams — I think it’s really an opportunity to learn and test their skills,” says James Ferstl who chairs the 50th anniversary of the Saskatchewan Mining Association’s (SMA) Emergency Response Mine Rescue Skills Competition.
“The trophies at the banquet are like the cherry on top. This is the only opportunity those individuals have to be placed under a similar pressure that they would be in with an actual incident.”
Graham Linton, whose work in the world of safety earned him a spot in the Saskatchewan Safety Hall of Fame, has been involved with the competition for about 30 years, doing everything from posing as a casualty to working as a co-ordinator, a marshal and a firefighting judge.
And he’s always impressed by how well the rescue teams work, saying regardless of who they represent, participants share similar traits.
Whether they are mine operators, electricians, mechanics or office workers volunteering on their rescue team, they all share an outstanding commitment to safety.
“The colour of the overalls is the only difference,” Linton says. “It’s a mindset that says you are not just here for the paycheque.”
And while spectators will cheer on their favourites, Linton stresses the high-pressure day, which starts with teams in lockdown before
They train their butts off to win a trophy and be the mine rescue champions — but it’s training in disguise. It’s their Stanley Cup.
being thrown into timed events, makes for a miserable time for competitors.
“If you are the mine rescue guys, it’s a terrible day,” Linton says.
That said, it is indisputably a valuable day for the men and women, who vie for top spot.
“They train their butts off to win a trophy and be the mine rescue champions — but it’s training in disguise,” Linton says. “It’s their Stanley Cup.”
Over the years equipment relied upon by crews has been upgraded dramatically.
“One thing is breathing apparatus,” says Brad Sigurdson, SMA’s vice-president of environment, safety and regulatory affairs.
“In the past, there has been more reliance on the old firefighter-type cylinders, now rebreathers or selfcontained breathing apparatus really allows us to have access to emergency response for longer. Tanks now last up to four hours whereas years ago they would have been a maximum of two.”
Sigurdson says the events are so realistic that it offers competitors a snapshot of what they must be poised for in a real-world emergency.
A veteran of the mining industry who has been on the event organization committee for several years, Sigurdson says competition day underscores daily principles those working in the industry adhere to.
“Safety has always been something extremely important to all of the mines in Saskatchewan,” Sigurdson says.
Over the years, Sigurdson says many have gone from embracing safety as a priority to making it a value — which is a change for the better.
“Values do not change over time whereas priorities can change like the wind.”
In 2017, for instance, there were no fatalities in Saskatchewan’s mining industry and an enviable lost time injury frequency rate — yet there is still a continual push to improve on safety, Sigurdson adds.
Dustin Maksymchuk, general manager at Mosaic Company’s K1 site, says he encourages his workers to make safety a way of life.
“You often see Mosaic employees taking safety precautions at home when cutting grass or using a ladder to change light bulbs or working on the roof,” he says. “You approach things differently just by being involved in safety culture. We truly believe that every injury is preventable.”
Maksymchuk has seen serious injuries transpire during his 20 years in mining and says they offer lessons to improve the plight of others.
“The production of potash isn’t worth injuring people over — that’s something we believe,” he says. “We learn not only from things that happen at our site, but at other sites. It’s a continual learning journey.”
Ferstl says there have been changes in equipment supporting rescue crews’ skill sets over the years — but at the same time the annual event still serves to showcase and promote the safety of workers just like it always has.
Tragedies like a turn-of-thecentury fire where 32 miners were killed in an explosion saw workers ill-prepared to react — a stark difference from the capabilities of teams poised to spring into action today.
“Basically, they didn’t know what to do, it was probably beyond chaotic,” Ferstl says.
“There was no real mine rescue in place at the time and no such thing as refuge stations. As you can well imagine, in early days I don’t think they understood what some of the risks were … as things changed over time our teams are better able to recognize risk.”
In 2010, when a fire broke out at a Saskatchewan mine, 72 workers were forced to remain underground for three days, “out of harm’s way,” at a well-stocked refuge station while emergency crews made the mine safe.
Jeremy Breker general manager at Cameco’s Cigar Lake uranium mine has a team — along with one volunteer casualty — at this year’s competition. Of course, the goal after intense training is to go home with a trophy but — win or lose — everyone gains from the experience. “It’s good team building and great skills developing,” Breker says. “At the end of the day, I get a qualified team.”