Carry Out
Date: August 16, 2015
Trail: Skookumchuck
Submitted by Pat
A long hiatus ensued when we finished presenting It’s Not About the Hike. I was in a new relationship, bought my first house, and had a new and challenging job I had a lot going on. During all this Nancy and I spent time working through the challenges of living so far apart and a friendship that demanded its share of connection while simultaneously needing a break from each other. As a way to again share our love of spending time together in the Grand Canyon, Nancy and I were planning a September guided backpack trip to Kanab Creek for the end of September. Our first big trip together since we stopped doing the presentation. It felt right. It was time to reconnect. The backpack trip was listed as strenuous, so I knew I needed to start a training. Nancy and I talked about it and decided to try and hike together once a week. Our first hike, to the summit of Moosilauke, was great fun. We fit like hand in glove back into the natural connection we found in hiking together years ago.
This past Sunday was our second hike. Nancy suggested the Skookumchuck Trail because we knew all the popular trails near Lafayette would be jammed with people and we wanted a quiet hike, just us and the natural world above tree line. It was a hot, humid day and the trail was long (4.2 miles to tree line and 4.7 miles to the summit of Mt. Lafayette).
The early part of the trail was generous, just a slight elevation incline. When we began to walk parallel to a stream the trail began to climb – rough, rocky, full of roots. We used all our concentration to watch where we put our feet. We were definitely breathing and sweating when we started up the section known as the staircase that veers left away from the stream. Built by volunteer trail maintainers, this portion of the trail was a steep incline made passable by large boulders forming the steps of the staircase. Big steps, with big rises. I could feel my legs talking to me and cheated with every step I made by using a foothold that wasn’t quite as high. Sweat was just pouring off of us…my glasses were fogging constantly and I finally took them off, seeing the world without the fog but with a hazy lack of clarity. I could still see where to put my feet so all was well.
As we gained elevation the terrain changed from a deciduous forest to evergreens with a lot of relatively open ground. We passed into the boreal forest where trees grew so close together that I couldn’t see beyond their branches and moss coated the sides of the trail like a planted border. The temperature dropped a couple of degrees and I appreciated that. It didn’t stop the sweating but it helped. Nancy had been taking pictures and at one point took out her camera and it froze with the lens extended saying it was experiencing a system error. No way! I had my iPhone and she used that to take pictures for the rest of the trip. Major bummer about her camera… We were going to the Canyon in a little over a month! She needed a camera!
Higher still we started feeling hopeful when we saw the ridge that was our destination through the trees. OMG! We weren’t even close! It felt like we had hiked at least 10 miles, but when we saw the ridge above us and to the right, it was clear we still had a good 10 miles left. I was consistently drinking a lot. I had 2 liters of water in my hydration pack, 20 ounces of Gatorade, and another quart of water in a plastic bottle. I needed to be careful about drinking when I am sweating like I was…my one experience with serious dehydration was not one I cared to repeat.
So we drank and talked and laughed and sweated and enjoyed being together again in the White Mountains. Higher up, we entered an area of big rocks, slick with moisture from yesterday’s heavy rain, bordered on the sides by short scrub, and hauled our overweight bodies up and up, cussing and sweating and laughing and offering each other a hand. Stepping out of the close swelter of the woods into the above tree line world was as much of a rush as it was the first time. God, I love it up there. I was pooped. I was not in the kind of shape to really enjoy hiking up for 4 miles. I’m 15 pounds overweight and my muscles aren’t used to this kind of work. But being above tree line rejuvenated me and we walked around, pointing out Galehead and Garfield, Owl’s Head and the Bonds, taking pictures and enjoying the light breeze and the view of mountains beyond mountains.
We sat and took off our boots and socks and let our shriveled feet and drenched socks dry in the breeze. We ate lunch. As we rested, my legs recovered enough to keep going, our destination North Lafayette, staying well away from the hordes on Mt. Lafayette. As we climbed the ridge, we met a few AT through-hikers. Amazing folks, driven, focused, and smelly. I have a great deal of respect for their accomplishments, but I am not going to be joining them. I would rather climb a mountain and go back down to a good meal, a comfy bed, and a shower.
My heart thrilled to be above tree line again! We didn’t seek a peak but stayed at high points along the ridge where there were few people. Beautiful and so fun for us, easier now that we were not chasing a goal…just training. I love sitting up there, feeling like I’m on top of the world, with the huge expanse of mountains rolling out in front of me. The only negative for me were the black flies. Black flies? In August? I thought they were gone. But the little buggers found me right away and buzzed around me, even getting in a couple of juicy bites.
On the way down I started off leading, using my poles, and feeling pretty good. I was relieved to get beyond the big rocks and maybe 2 miles later I started to get tired. My knees ached and my right one was tweaking in a nasty way. I walked slower and slower and the hike was becoming less and less fun. I was frustrated with my tiredness. Here we were, together again, having a good time, and training for our Canyon trip – I should be feeling blessed. Strange how feeling tired can sap my good humor and lay me open and vulnerable. I told Nancy I was tired, but didn’t blabber on about it. I was quiet, concentrating on putting my feet in safe places and using my poles to keep myself from falling. I could feel myself ebbing deeper into feeling the exhaustion. I ran out of water in my hydration pack, and even though we were descending, I was still sweating. Having to stop and drink from my bottle was a pain so I didn’t drink as much as I should have. In retrospect, I should have made the time to stop and pour the water from my bottle into my hydration pack for easy access to water. But I was too tired and I didn’t do it.
I was so relieved to hear the sound of the stream rushing along down and to our left. I told myself we were close, but I didn’t believe me. I could see where we really were on the map and we weren’t close. Trudging down the big rock steps was laborious, but we soldiered down without mishap. Nancy had told me when we were climbing up that she wanted to take advantage of spontaneous self-care moments. She wanted to stop, take off our boots, and stick our feet into the clear, cold water. But the idea of sitting down, taking off my pack, my boots, and my socks, was too much and I told her I didn’t have the energy. We reached a place where we rock hopped across a little feeder brook and I told myself to get over it and suggested putting our feet in the water.
Aahhh…it felt wonderful to have the boots and socks off, to be sitting down, but I know I didn’t open up to the joy of the experience as thoroughly as I could have. After about 20 minutes, we dried our feet with our sweat-sodden bandanas and kept going. We were maybe a mile and a half from the trailhead when I saw Nancy, who was about 20 feet ahead of me, fall backward and roll to her left. I was at her side immediately and unlike the other times she had fallen, when she always says, “I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m ok,” while rubbing her injured part, this time she said she was really hurt, that she heard something snap in her left ankle and that she had hurt the right ankle too. She was in major pain and my brain had not caught up yet with the gravity of the situation.
I helped get her backpack off and since she was a few feet from the creek, she scooted closer to the water and put her feet in, shoes and all. That helped a bit with the pain, but she was a hurting badly and Nancy hardly ever shows her pain. It then sunk in to my consciousness that she was completely incapacitated and none of my wilderness first aid had addressed how to help someone with one severely injured ankle and one sprained ankle. At that point I realized I should call 911 and ask for help.
It was 5 pm and Nancy said she wanted to try walking out…on two injured ankles. I told her that was a bad idea but she would not listen. Using my poles and sort of scooting her feet along inch by inch, with me holding onto the back of her shorts and wearing her backpack on my chest, she walked maybe a tenth of a mile before collapsing, bursting into tears, realizing she could not walk out, that she needed help, that she was going to be carried off the trail. I felt relieved and helped her onto some soft, relatively clear ground next to the trail, putting her backpack behind her back so she could lean back on something. She was very upset, saying repeatedly that she was sorry, sorry, sorry… I asked her quietly to stop saying she was sorry. The only sorry here was that she was badly injured. She worried that the rescue team would arrive and look at her and say, “That’s nothing. We hiked all the way up here for this?” Nancy hates feeling like a burden or imposing herself on anyone. She struggles to ask for and accept help. I do too, but this situation was so clear to me. There was no gray area at all. I knew what was happening. I knew she couldn’t walk out and that I couldn’t carry her. I knew she was badly injured as I watched the swelling appear above her socks on both legs, but especially her left. I knew I had to get help, that I could not rest until I knew she was safe and warm and cared for by medical staff in a hospital.
That snap meant the end of our September Canyon trip, but that was the last thing on my mind. I was much more concerned with here and now. Nancy, on the other hand, was devastated, in tears at the loss of that trip, apologizing for ruining it for me. I stayed calm and told her we would go next year, that right now we needed to concentrate on getting her out to safety. I think the trauma of the event and the excruciating pain threw her back into her history. Old patterns that she knows and understands and can deal with poked their heads up and took a bite out of her. Guilt, sadness, fear, embarrassment, afraid she really wasn’t hurt badly enough to deserve a rescue. I pointed out as gently as I could that what she was saying was old stuff, old stories she tells herself to keep herself down. Right now she needed to relax, stay warm, keep hydrated, and find as comfortable a position as she could.
I checked but had no cell service so I started walking down the trail with my backpack on, not knowing whether I would be instructed to meet rescuers at the trailhead or allowed to go back to her. I hustled down the trail, my legs finding new strength, moving steadily but taking no risks. Finally I reached a spot where I had 2 bars. I dialed 911 for only the second time in my life and a very professional young man went through his protocol, asking questions about her injury, was she breathing, was she bleeding, was she in shock. Then with me still on the line he contacted the Franconia Fire & Rescue to get an ambulance rolling, and contacted Fish and Game to get the rescue going. Nancy was going to have to be carried out.
Once all arrangements were made, I knew it was time to wait. The 911 dispatcher said I should go back and be with her, keep her as warm and comfortable as possible. I hauled ass back up the trail, pouring sweat, and finally saw her where I had left her, leaning against her backpack, roiling with I’m sorries and in pain. I stayed calm, talked to her, and got a fleece on her because she was starting to shiver. I did what I could to help her put her legs on my backpack, but it was excruciating until she found a position where both her ankles were still. It was 6:15 and I suggested going back down, so I could call Don and also let Theresa know what was going on. This time I went down without the backpack but it was still hard. Remember, I was already exhausted. My legs held up, and got me down and back.
She was very happy to see me when I returned. We waited another 10-15 minutes before we saw the first rescue workers appear on the trail. These folks were volunteer members of the Pemigewassett Search and Rescue team. A woman named Pam checked Nancy to make sure she wasn’t bleeding or shocky. Nancy had started to shiver from emotional and physical reaction but her blood pressure was good as was her color. More emotional reaction than real shock. Pam radioed their status to other members of the team that were making their way up the trail and shortly afterward more people showed up with a litter and all the accouterments for stabilizing her ankles and “packaging” her for the carry out. They took off her shoes – well, Nancy took them off. She couldn’t stand anyone handling her ankles. Then the leader of the group started to prep her for the carry out. He put her ankles in these blue plastic tubes that closed with Velcro straps. The other members of the rescue team prepared the litter, lining it with a blanket and a yellow cover. Nancy scooted onto the litter on her own and they finished “packaging” her like a yellow burrito for the trip down. They had not carried out someone with two ankle injuries and were concerned that the bumpy ride and jostling would really be painful. Two paid staff from Fish & Game showed up to run the rescue. I tried to remember names, but they were swept out of my brain almost immediately.
By this time, Nancy had calmed and was more accepting of the fact she was going to be carried off the mountain, something we both have read about and have never experienced. Everyone was extremely kind and sensitive, chatting with her and among themselves as they prepared to carry her out. At around 7:15, we started walking down. More rescue volunteers arrived so that the litter carriers could trade off every so often. They held the litter with one hand and used a strap tied to the litter that they put around their neck and pulled with their free hand to take some of the strain off their carrying hand. They scoffed at Nancy’s weight, saying nothing could beat carrying out a 367-pound man that they had been called to help sometime in the past. Footing was rocky at best and both sides of the stretcher put the hikers off the trail so they were slipping in mud and on rocks, but they kept her safe and nothing untoward happened on the way down.
We took a shortcut which was more like a bushwhack, but it cut off almost a mile of trail. Finally, in the light of early evening, we made it out to a bike path where the ambulance was waiting. I was so glad to see it because I had been told we might have to decide what we wanted to do at that point. But the ambulance was there and the EMT’s very quickly and efficiently lifted her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. I called Don who was on his way up and told him to meet us at the Littleton Regional Hospital. I gave information to the Fish & Games guys for their report, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, and followed the ambulance to Littleton. I had had the presence of mind to grab Nancy’s car keys before they started carrying her out and was able to get her purse so I could provide health care information. At the hospital she was wheeled in to an ER room #8 and one of the EMT’s escorted me to the reception area where I checked her in. Ten minutes later a nurse called me back in to see her. I was exhausted beyond belief, but still awake and aware and present. I was hungry and I could feel my body still burning calories as I pounded the Gatorade. A nurse took her vitals and other information and then the ER doc came to examine her. She went to x-ray and I sat and waited in her empty cubicle. So much emotion surging around inside me, but still feeling like I had done my best and we had done the right thing calling for help.
My phone had gone dead – no battery – and I had forgotten my car charger but the hospital staff found me a charger to get my battery topped off and when Don arrived, he said he had an extra one in his car he could loan me. Everyone in the ambulance crew with whom I interacted was incredibly kind and helpful. And so were all the hospital personnel. Finally the doc came back (this was around 9:30) and told her she had broken her fibula…the non- weight bearing bone just above her ankle and that the other ankle was sprained. They fitted her with a soft cast on her sprain and a boot on her broken ankle and got her some crutches. Sometime during all this Don arrived. He was of course concerned and maybe a little shocked since he hadn’t been with her through the whole process like I had. It took a while for him to catch up emotionally and mentally. She was released around 10:30 and then we parted ways. We had left her Jeep at the trailhead and I felt anxious because I had heard stories about vehicles being broken into at trailheads in the Whites. In fact, I knew someone who had suffered that violation. I drove home, after stopping for fast food to calm the hunger inside me, and got home around 12:30 am.
Theresa was still awake, bless her heart, and stayed up with me until 2:30 so I could talk for a while. It helped me settle my heart and my emotions being able to talk. I needed her support and she gave it freely.
I was scheduled to drive to Kutztown, PA (the home office of the Foundation I work for) the next day (Monday) but knew I was too trashed to drive for 8 hours so I emailed my boss and told her what happened and that we would have to reschedule. She was very cool with that. Since I wasn’t traveling to Kutztown and I was still tired and very sore, I took the day off. I was concerned about Nancy’s Jeep being an invitation to thieves, so Theresa and I drove an hour and a half back to the trailhead, picked up her car, and drove it back to our house. We can figure out an exchange later. She’s not going to be driving for a while…although the sprain is on her right ankle so she may be able to drive sooner than later. We returned home around 2:30 and crashed for a while. Got some good sleep last night and am starting to feel more like myself.
Pretty intense stuff. All it took was a moment’s inattention, a misstep and WHAM everything changed. We will reschedule our Canyon trip for next May. She will heal and we will be back hiking soon. I’m so glad she wasn’t hurt worse or hurt two/three miles up the trail. Everything went smoothly with her extraction and she was a trooper… Never made a sound despite the constant jostling.
I know how important my presence was for her. She was deeply grateful for my support, my presence, my calm. I was so glad to be there, to help however I could, and see her heading home with some pain meds and a diagnosis.
Now the healing begins…