Kenwood man thankful to be alive

Every morning, Steve Cavellini looks out his kitchen window at the stunning, craggy profile of Hood Mountain rising 2,000 feet above his Kenwood home, and sees the spot where he nearly died.

For Cavellini, his view from the valley kindles memories of invigorating hikes in the quiet solitude of the mountain’s wooded slopes. But no amount of gazing manages to spark even the slightest recollection by Cavellini of his hike on Thanksgiving Day 2012, which ended with a 15-foot fall onto his head that almost ended his life.

That he is still alive - let alone that he has regained his speech and motor functions - is nothing short of amazing.

The actions of some quick-thinking hikers, a deft helicopter rescue team and a skilled neurosurgeon kept him alive. Then came multiple brain surgeries and months of physical therapy to painstakingly relearn even the simplest of tasks. The therapy was exceedingly frustrating for Cavellini, 70, an accomplished lawyer and renaissance man used to mastering most anything he tries.

It’s been a long, two-year road back from the literal precipice for Cavellini, but it’s a trek that loved ones say he has tackled with typical gusto. Now, two years after the fall, he plans to be surrounded by family this Thanksgiving, a holiday gathering he hopes will be memorable.

“I don’t remember going up there that day,” he said. “The only reason I’m here today is because of a whole pile of coincidences. I don’t necessarily believe in any divine power, but I certainly feel lucky.”

Cavellini has hiked the trail dozens of times to the summit of Hood Mountain, including the spur trail that branches off near the peak and leads to Gunsight Rock, a rugged outcrop of volcanic tuff that affords unparalleled views down the Sonoma Valley to the Bay. On a clear day, hikers can see the San Francisco skyline.

Thanksgiving 2012 was one of those clear, cloudless days, and the summit ridge that Cavellini can see from his breakfast table beckoned.

Though he had always been an avid outdoorsman, Cavellini’s passion for hiking the Sonoma hills would come much later in life. Some of the San Francisco native’s best early memories are of his father, a firefighter, taking him hiking and fishing on the Klamath, McCloud, American and other Northern California rivers.

While pursuing a zoology degree at UC Berkeley, Cavellini worked as a commercial fisherman, parlaying salmon and tuna into textbooks and tuition money. It was at Berkeley where Cavellini met Gail, his future wife, with whom he has two children, Julie, 38, of Dallas and Lee, 26, of Arizona.

He stayed at Cal to earn a law degree and still supports the Golden Bears. During a recent interview at his Lawndale Road house, where his family has lived for more than three decades, a navy and gold Cal hat concealed his bald head and faint scars, the lasting evidence of the surgery to remove part of his skull and save his life.

It was at his home on 5 acres between Oakmont and Kenwood that Cavellini honed a diverse slate of skills. He fixed up old cars and planted sauvignon blanc grapes on the property, and he did much of the plumbing and electrical work on his family’s remodeled ranch-style house.

“Steve is a very driven personality, type A, I would say,” Gail Cavellini said. “One thing about Steve, if he wants to do something, he’ll find out how to do it and that’s it.”

On that Thanksgiving Day in 2012, Cavellini and his wife recently had separated, and he was planning on having Thanksgiving dinner later with friends. He has no recollection of the day, or even the following two months, but he has pieced together events based on what people have told him.

“Apparently, I walked up there and, for whatever reason, I have no idea why, where the trail splits, I decided to go out to Gunsight Rock as opposed to walking to the top of the mountain,” Cavellini said.

It’s not as if he is a novice hiker.

About five years ago, a doctor told Cavellini, near the end of his law career and approaching the backside of his 60s with looming health issues, that he needed to find a more active hobby.

“He said ‘you have to get into shape or you’re going to be a diabetic,’?” he recalled. “He said ‘I can give you pills or you can start walking.’?”

So Cavellini started walking. Fortuitously, his house sits amid some of the best hiking locales in Northern California. Annadel State Park is just up the road, and he hiked its trails three days a week.

Eventually, when Annadel became too easy, he turned his attention north to the hulking ridge of Sugarloaf and Hood Mountain that dominate the skyline above his house.

“I started hiking Hood Mountain because the trails are more strenuous,” he said. “It’s a 3-mile hike with a 2,000-foot elevation gain.”

The only other hikers up on Gunsight Rock that day two years ago were Sam Schrock, a Kenwood winery worker who had played soccer with Cavellini’s son, and Shrock’s girlfriend, Kyle Martin, a yoga instructor. Cavellini shared pleasantries with the couple and enjoyed the view, then left them on the rock to return to the main trail, which involves a tricky scramble.

That’s when something went horribly wrong.

“We just heard a thud like someone was rolling down the rocks,” said Schrock, 27. “It was definitely him. We thought maybe he tripped. I yelled to see if he was OK. When we didn’t hear anything, we knew it was bad.”

Earlier that day, Schrock and Martin had almost turned back on the trail before reaching Gunsight Rock, but Schrock convinced Martin to keep going to the top. Schrock had thrown a cellphone in his backpack at the last minute, just in case.

Now, Schrock was scrambling down to where Cavellini fell while Martin, who thankfully found cell reception, was dialing 911.

“Where he landed, his feet were up in the air and he was on his head on a rock,” Schrock said. “I thought, ‘This guy just died in front of us.’ It was really scary.”

Cavellini eventually regained consciousness, to the relief of Schrock, who talked to him until the helicopter arrived. Henry 1, the Sheriff’s Office rescue chopper, was staffed that day by pilot Paul Bradley and tactical flight officer Debbie Little .

Bradley circled the mountain until they could see Cavellini. Then he put the helicopter down in a clearing while Little clipped in to the end of a 100-foot rope attached to the bottom of the aircraft. Bradley took off again and lowered Little to Cavellini.

“Talking to him, I knew he had a bad head injury,” said Little, who counts the incident as one of the most memorable of the more than 50 such “long-line” rescues in her career. “He kept saying ‘I’m fine. I’ll just walk out.’?”

Schrock and Martin helped Little secure Cavellini in a stretcher clipped to the end of the rope, and Henry 1 was away. It was a surgical extraction in a precarious spot for the Henry 1 crew, whose experience made it look almost routine.

“I’m just glad we were there,” said Little. “You don’t want to lose a loved one on Thanksgiving. That would ruin the holiday for the rest of your life.”

Back down in the valley, Cavellini was transferred to a Reach helicopter and spirited to Memorial Hospital’s trauma center.

Gail Cavellini got the phone call while on a pre-Thanksgiving meal walk.

“I was stunned, shocked,” she said. “I went to the hospital right away.”

Dr. Bryan Pereira, the neurosurgeon who happened to be working the trauma unit that day, found major swelling in Cavellini’s brain. He gave Gail Cavellini three options: try medicine to reduce the swelling; drill a hole in his skull to drain the fluid that was accumulating; or remove a piece of skull and allow the brain to swell.

“I said, ‘What if we don’t do the surgery?’ He said, ‘Then he’ll probably die. The chances are not good, and time is of the essence. You have four minutes to decide,’?” Gail Cavellini recalled. “So of course I said go for it. Before that, I was completely stunned by the whole thing, and I could hardly feel anything. The minute he said that, I just burst into tears.”

The surgery was a success. Removing a tea saucer-sized chunk of skull relieved the pressure and allowed the hemorrhaging in his brain to subside. Doctors induced a coma, and Cavellini was unconscious for a week.

When he woke up, he had a bowl-shaped dent in the side of his head. He had to wear a football helmet (adorned with a Cal sticker) for the next few months. After being discharged from the hospital on Christmas Eve, Cavellini began the long process of rehabilitation, including speech therapy, physical therapy because of a broken shoulder blade and broken rib he suffered in the fall, and occupational therapy to regain the skills of daily living.

“He couldn’t drive or use his power tools,” Gail Cavellini said of her husband. “He was gradually getting better. Month by month you could see improvement. He had lots of rehab.”

A year ago, the family gathered at daughter Julie’s Dallas home, where they will spend this Thanksgiving, and marveled at Cavellini’s progress.

“Going through the injury and the recovery, you just wonder what person we are going to get at the end of all this. That’s the scariest part,” said Julie Cavellini, 38. “He’s softer now, less harsh, and he’s slowed down some. I love that. He jokes now, and he’s more appreciative. For our family, in a way, it’s been a good thing.”

Cavellini is able to drive on his own again, and his brain function is almost back to normal, although he still has trouble with his short-term memory. The accident brought him closer to his wife and kept his marriage together.

He has started hiking again, but he hasn’t been back to Gunsight Rock. It will always be there, though, and he’ll go, one day.

“I’ve realized I want to spend some time doing different things,” he said. “I feel good. I’m happy. I have a pretty positive attitude. It’s a kinder, gentler time in my life. I’m trying to make sure my personal relationships with people are good. I want to do more charitable stuff. I’m just grateful to be here. I feel really fortunate to be alive.”

You can reach Staff Writer Matt Brown at 521-5206 or matt.brown@pressdemo?crat.com. On Twitter @MattBrownPD.