A self-described “weather geek,” Mike Cannon says he’s studied enough forecasts over his 66 years to warrant a degree in meteorology.
Every morning, he reviews the National Weather Service’s written forecast, a jargon-filled report posted on a web page that looks like it was last updated before Y2K. He scans the data for any hint of future trouble, such as a note last Thursday about surging “precipitable water,” which refers to the amount of vapor in the atmosphere in terms of how much rain it could potentially become.
“One point five inches,” Cannon said. “In my world, that’s a lot of moisture in the atmosphere.”
Cannon’s world is that of emergency response, the kind that is necessary when the earth shakes and the rivers overflow. As the leader of Vermont’s Urban Search and Rescue Task Force, Cannon oversees a team of roughly 90 part-time employees — most of whom have full-time gigs as EMTs, firefighters, police officers, engineers and medical professionals — from across the state. Equipped with boats, ropes and an array of technical gear, the group, based in Colchester, is called upon to aid local emergency crews during disasters. Members receive special training that helps them save lives in even the most precarious situations.
The team is busier than ever, responding to nearly two dozen calls in 2024 compared to an average of about 10 a year when it formed roughly a decade ago. Floods are the biggest focus, from local flash ones to major, statewide events, such as those in the last two Julys, and members have rescued more than 265 people over the past two years.
The team might also respond to a collapsed or unstable building or assist in searches for missing people. Its reach extends beyond Vermont, with recent trips to disasters in Kentucky, North Carolina, Florida and Texas.
“When the public calls 911 and the people on the other end don’t have the equipment or skills to safely respond, who do they turn to?” Aaron Collette
But that work — and the specialized training, proper equipment and vehicles — is expensive. While federal grants have typically paid the bills, the team is now looking to state lawmakers for cash to stay afloat. Climate change, and the increasingly common severe weather it brings, means their services are more important than ever, the group’s leaders say.
“When the public calls 911 and the people on the other end don’t have the equipment or skills to safely respond, who do they turn to?” said Aaron Collette, fire chief of the Town of Williston, who manages the state team’s rescue operations. “They can’t dial 912. We’re there to provide that expertise.”
The common ingredient of any high-risk rescue mission — courage — has never been in short supply in Vermont. In the days following the Great Flood of 1927, the St. Johnsbury Republican praised a group of boys and men who risked their lives to save five people trapped in a half-submerged house near Lyndon. The daring rescue was led by 22-year-old Gerald Pierce, who climbed “hand over hand” across a 200-foot rope so that he could deliver a makeshift buoy to the stranded people.
“Had the rope proved weak or Pierce’s hand slipped as he made the test trip to the house, he would have been drowned or battered to death in the debris of wreckage vaulting down the mad river,” the paper wrote.
Search-and-rescue efforts became more organized over time, and by the turn of the century, Vermont had nearly a dozen technical rescue teams based out of local emergency agencies. Cannon, who considers water rescue one of his “passions,” is the longtime leader of Colchester Technical Rescue and worked for the local police department for more than 30 years.
A wave of federal funding after the 9/11 attacks helped further equip and train local teams, Cannon said. The investments paid off in 2011 when rescue crews were thrust into action during Tropical Storm Irene.
It eventually became clear that some state-level coordination was needed. So around 2015, Vermont created the Urban Search and Rescue Task Force within the Department of Public Safety and hired Cannon to lead the team.
He now spends his days working out of out of an old state garage located at Fort Ethan Allen in Colchester, where the rescue squad stores its vehicles and equipment.
Team members are considered part-time state employees and get paid a little above minimum wage when they respond to calls and attend trainings: rope, confined space and swiftwater rescues, as well as building collapses. Subgroups are assigned specific tasks: rescue, medical, hazmat, planning and, perhaps most importantly, logistics. That group makes sure the team is fed and the vehicles are fueled during what can be days-long deployments.
“Whether we’re going from Colchester to Texas or Kentucky or whether we’re just going down the road, we’re the ones that keep the team running,” explained logistics manager Francis Aumand of Richmond.
The team also has three search dogs trained to locate people trapped under rubble or debris and is currently training a fourth that will specialize in finding human remains.
An emphasis on cross-training allows the team to be nimble, said Emily Fitzpatrick, a Colchester cop who coordinates the canine crew. “We wear a lot of different hats,” she said.
When showtime arrives, Cannon’s role resembles that of a stage manager. He works the phones, calling local agencies for on-the-ground reports and the weather service for predictions on the hardest-hit areas. He also helps his bosses at the Department of Public Safety decide whether Vermont needs backup.
The earlier that call is broadcast, the better, Cannon said. Neighboring states are often preparing their own flood responses, which means the rescue teams coming to help Vermont are traveling from far away. On the other hand, Cannon never wants to bring in reinforcements only to watch a storm shift unexpectedly.
Getting Vermont’s team in place poses additional challenges. Most members work full time for employers who can be reluctant to approve extended leaves. And many serve on local emergency crews that are also needed to respond.
Cannon can usually pull together three dozen members for big storm events, enough to staff six rescue boats. He also helps coordinate the response of local technical teams, such as Rescue, Inc., in Brattleboro. Then he must spread out these resources efficiently, a task complicated by impassable roads during flooding events.
It’s important to stage teams near hard-hit areas because situations can quickly become dangerous. Many of the people the team rescues have attempted to drive through standing water, Cannon said, which authorities advise against.
During one memorable incident a few years ago, several young adults wound up perched on the hood of a sinking car in Middlebury. Police on the scene lacked the proper rescue equipment, recalled Collette, the rescue team manager. Luckily, the state team had just pulled into town and used a boat to save the stranded motorists before the car was submerged. Had the crew arrived an hour later, the situation could have ended “much differently,” Collette said.
Not every mission has a happy ending. On deployment in North Carolina after Hurricane Helene last fall, Vermont’s team was stationed in Garren Creek, a flood-hit mountainside community that lost 11 people — all of whom were related. The job of identifying the bodies fell to a single family member, Cannon recalled.
“I’ve been doing it for 40-some-odd years,” he said, “and that probably affected me worse than anything we’ve done.”
Back in Vermont, Cannon is spending more time than he’d like trying to stretch the team’s budget. Until now, it’s managed to survive on about $240,000 from federal grants and surplus funds from the Vermont Division of Fire Safety. It’s short of what the squad needs to cover its growing maintenance costs, Cannon said, and nowhere near enough to lease a new facility, an item high on his list. (Their current building leaks, and the bathroom looks like it belongs in Alcatraz).
Vermont lawmakers earmarked $250,000 for the team last year, the first time they dedicated state funds. Even then, Cannon ended up canceling a few training sessions because he worried that the money would run out before the end of the year.
This spring, he sought $750,000. Lawmakers trimmed the request to $450,000 but made it a recurring line item in the now-pending state budget. Cannon acknowledged he was hoping for more but said it would still be a “huge help.”
So would a slower flood season. Cannon’s team was on standby over the weekend as heavy rains hit Vermont. Cannon spent Saturday on the phone with the state’s emergency management director and forecasters at the National Weather Service. They were most concerned about the Mad River Valley, which ultimately experienced some flooding, though not enough to warrant state backup — this time.
Still, Cannon woke up on Sunday and refreshed the forecast first thing, just to be safe.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Hell and High Water | As summer approaches, Vermont’s search and rescue crew readies for an uncertain forecast”
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This article appears in The Summer Preview 2025.
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