“Looks like you forgot to pack your goat feet today.”
-Eddy Ellis, everyday at practice for three years
Shit happens.
Last week I was backpacking in Central Oregon, trying to get away from work, cell service, people in general, and the impending doom of a record heatwave hitting most of the Pacific Northwest.
My partner and I planned for three nights in the woods with Remmy, taking our time over about 25 miles with plenty of time to stop for photos. The only tough elevation gain would be the first day but we’d be fresh, we’d get it out of the way, and we’d get some great views along the way.
Here’s the thing… neither one of us slept well and the sun at 6,000 feet, though not as hot as in the city, was so intense that we were nearing exhaustion about seven miles in.
And then, I fell.
We started heading down a steep section of the trail and we were taking it slow and trying to carefully pick our way to the last uphill section of the day. I put my right foot on what I thought was a solid piece of the trail but as I shifted my weight to that leg, my foot slipped. My right leg continued to slide down the hill causing my left knee to slam into a sharp rock.
I’ll spare you the pictures and real gory details but, suffice it to say, my knee was split open pretty bad. I sat down on the trail, my back against the hill I just slid down, and watched blood trickle down my shin.
My partner, having been through several crises with parents and family members, immediately put pressure on it and calmly tried to figure out a more sustainable way to stop the bleeding.
She found some gauze and rigged a tourniquet and the bleeding stopped.
Now the conversation turned to what do we do next?
Having seen the cut and knowing how bad it was bleeding, I knew the right answer.
But my pride wanted me to tape it up, grab some Advil, slug some water, and walk back to the trailhead.
Then I tried to shift my weight by bending my knee a little and the cut started bleeding.
Yeah, I said, call 911.
Search and Rescue showed up a couple hours later, my partner making sure I wasn’t going into shock and keeping Remmy calm all the while. She’s pretty good in an emergency (the SAR guys all said so when they showed up).
They loaded me onto the helicopter and flew me to the hospital while my partner and Remmy hiked back with the rest of the SAR crew.
Luckily, I got a few bangers before they took me away— although I wish they would’ve let me take my camera on the helicopter because we took off right as the sun was setting.
In the end, I had a minuscule tear in one of my tendons but was otherwise fine. Eleven stitches and some pain killers later, I was released and we headed back home. The most damage done was to my pride. It was the first hike of the season, I underestimated the trail, and overestimated my abilities. I also feel bad for Remmy and my partner who didn’t get to have a fun weekend and had to hike out in the dark after being completely exhausted from the walk in.
Everything will heal and I’ll be back on the trail soon enough.
Keep your feet moving