Fall on Iron Mountain

Fourteen miles, that is a long day.  I had been nervous about it since the beginning, but we were nearing the end.   We were uncertain about how far we had come, but Andy had mentioned that once we pass under a set of power lines, we would be close to camp.  It was a great relief to see that landmark and soon we came across a beautiful tent camping area right next to the water source.

A quick break to stake out a tent spot and we decided to fetch water before it got too dark.  A smooth, gentle downhill path led to a brisk stream with clean water.  One by one we secured our water collection gear and headed out.  Suddenly I heard a crashing noise in the brush, and a shout of pain.  Someone had fallen! I hurried down the path to find Cathie on the ground and Andy starting an assessment. We all fall now and again on these trails, little did we know at the time how serious it was.  I helped out for a minute and gave Andy some EMT tips but figured it was just a bump or strain.  Once she sat up, it started to develop into something far more serious.

A primary assessment revealed that she could not move her right arm, I palpated the elbow and noted that is appeared to be dislocated.  Circulation, sensation and motor skills were OK, so she cradled her arm and with Andy's help worked her way back to camp.  I quickly headed to the stream to tank up on water (an exhausted dehydrated spacy medic would not have contributed much to the cause) and scurried back to camp.  A better secondary exam performed by Andy and myself revealed that the damage to Cathie was limited to her arm, no other injuries and thankfully she did not hit her head when she fell.  I could not tell if anything was broken, but the dislocation was apparent from her limited range of motion. 

Andy and Cristina fashioned a sling out of assorted bedclothes (including I think some elastic long underwear) while I tried 911 on my phone.  We had cellular service at this campsite, and thankfully we all had mostly charged phones.  I did not expect much from 911, and once I described a non-critical patient they advised that we needed to hike out in the morning.  If anything changed, I was to call back, but with night coming on they were not going to mount a rescue for a dislocated elbow on a mobile, conscious, and otherwise healthy patient. 

Together we formed quite a team.  Andy was the primary caretaker and did an excellent job.  I was advisory medic and worked on locating Kenny (who had hiked on ahead after Wataugu Lake but was in a better spot to perhaps secure a vehicle), Cristina became the nurse, assisting Cathie with changing and getting comfortable, and Laura phoned an emergency room doctor.

The doctor talked to Cathie and reviewed her medical history and prescriptions, then we all listed what medications we had brought with us, and the doctor pulled together a plan for what to give Cathie to safely help alleviate her pain.

Andy and Cathie working on the travel sling

Cathie ate some dinner and we carefully tucked her away in her tent, where she spent a long, sleepless night.  The next morning Andy called the National Forest Service, who agreed to arrange for Carter Co EMS to send a team up to meet us by the power lines we had passed the night before.

Cathie and Cristina finishing up the sling

A better sling was fashioned from a water bladder that was partially inflated with air, and a tent ground cover.  This strange looking but effective sling kept her arm immobilized while she walked nearly a mile on the trail to get to the pickup point.  

Looking down the valley where the rescue vehicle came up

Cathie and her ground cover sling

Soon we saw a glint of light way down in the valley. A few minutes later an ATV was spotted coming up the hill, followed by a 4x4 Tahoe.  The Carter County Search and Rescue team had arrived.

Search and Rescue

Carter Co Search and Rescue

S&R, Cathie, Laura, Cristina

Pulling around to pick up Cathie and Andy

The powerlines

They quickly picked up Cathie and Andy and headed back down the way they came.  In seconds it was done.  Cristina, Laura and I were in shock, but we had agreed to keep going.  Sending the whole team down would have burdened the rescuers and would have contributed to logistical problems once off the trail.  The easiest thing to do was to keep moving forward and finish the hike to Damascus.  Once there we could all regroup and see what was next. 

Cathie was simply amazing.  The pictures tell the story, showing her with a smile on her face even though she was in intense pain.  She first offered to head down alone with the rescuers to not disrupt Andy's hike, but anyone who has ever been to an ER with a serious injury eventually appreciates someone with them.  It also allowed for a healthy person to carry her stuff, and to drive the car to get her back to Damascus.  At one point at camp she was even insisting that she be allowed to carry her pack, a request that of course was ignored and Andy carried her gear to the pickup point. 

We hiked on, down to three people in our team.  As we pushed on that day it was nerve-wracking, wondering about Cathie and deciding whether or not to bail out at the next road. We were also relieved at the relative ease which we had evacuated Cathie to a hospital.  One minute we are in crisis mode, the next minute she is gone, safely in the hands of professional rescuers. 

That alone requires comment -- relative ease.  She fell around 8:30 at night and got pulled off the mountain about 11:00 the next day.  That is 14 1/2 hours with not much treatment other than some slings and a handful of pain medicines.  She had to walk close to a mile to get to the evac point. 

That is life in the wilderness. The nearest road was close to 5 miles hiking on rough terrain.  The trail was on a steep ridge, so bushwhacking down would have been difficult, if not impossible.  We had some modern tools, such as our cell phones.  Plus this is an eastern trail near people, so we had the powerline access trail for the vehicles.  We also found out later that nearby Iron Mountain Shelter was accessible by vehicle.  Even with all that, we were pretty much on our own that night.   Of course a more severe problem or a medical emergency would have prompted a more aggressive response by local officials.  We were not in a dire emergency, but I would imagine it would have taken a number of hours to get someone up that hill in the best of responses.  That really makes me think about the possibilities, but that is why I train hard and constantly evaluate my capabilities.  I am still in this game ... and so is Cathie. 

Pond Mountain and Subway Pt 2 of 2

I had just climbed 1800 feet, descended 1800 feet, stopped at a beautiful lakeside park to get embroiled in controversy, one of our group had disappeared ahead, and some of the ideas floated about the rest of the day were less than appealing.  I was ready for a easy day as planned -- I was not even going to do that mountain and now my break at the lake was dissolving away and extra miles were in store!

That was when the idea was presented to head to town and secure some Subway sandwiches.

Junk food Nirvana

I have nothing against Subway, it is a staple of my urban lunch routine and many a conference call (carefully muted) involves munching down a sub to pass the time.  However in the woods, after three days of dehydrated food and energy bars and water, just the thought of a big, sloppy sub was too good to be true.  That it was within the realm of possibility was simply beyond words.

Andy recruited Cathie to hitchhike with him to town.  Not a proponent of that activity, while on the Appalachian Trail it is part of the routine.  Cathie had never hitched, and to her amazement the second car stopped and the driver happily took them to town.  My Subway order went with them, along with a special request to secure me a cold Pepsi.

I am enjoying that 20 oz Pepsi

While they were gone, Cristina stretched out in the sun and relaxed.  Laura and I splashed around in the lake and cooled off.  The gorgeous afternoon turned lazy and pleasant and sooner than expected they were back -- Subway, Kettle Chips, my Pepsi along with assorted other cold drinks, and cookies.  I applaud them for a job well done.  The five of us crowded around the table and feasted, enjoying this simple meal as much as 5 star cuisine.

 

Laura 

Sometimes the best part of backpacking is how much I appreciate the little things that I take for granted when I can get back to them.  A hot shower, a cold drink, real food, air conditioning.  This break not only appeased our hunger, but it changed our mood.  By the time we were done we were all content to hike on the camping area that was originally planned about 2 miles or so down the trail.  Mostly because we had used up so much time.  But I also think that we had relaxed and become content with just being out there and not being so focused on clocking miles.

This time spent together is one of my favorite memories from the trail. 

Andy, Laura, Cristine, Cathie

Pond Mountain and Subway Pt 1 of 2

The very sound of it is idyllic and sweet.  "Pond Mountain".  You picture a pretty little pond, lilypads, frogs, perhaps a wood nymph or two, or Pan playing his pipes as the animals frolic about.

Yeah right.  The reality of Pond Mountain is an 1800 foot vertical elevation change over about 2 miles, with limited views and no real reward at the top such as a panoramic vista or any of the aforementioned items.  I am not even certain I actually saw a pond.

After three days of high humidity, heat, and assorted issues with water, I was ready for a break.  The day before I had floated the idea of skipping Pond Mountain and joining Laura (who had hiked this already last year, and was also planning to skip it to ensure her knees would last the entire trip) on a shortcut to Watauga Lake park.  I was fighting with assorted symptoms of dehydration and was experiencing "day four syndrome" where the cumulative effects of this much exertion were playing a role in mental fatigue.

Andy has been pushing me to reconsider, and even Laura, our resident supporter of "hike your own hike", had suggested that I would feel bad about skipping a section.  Waking up that morning near Laurel Falls along an endless supply of water, I was starting to get rehydrated and after a quick check on how I felt, I decided I was going to give it a go.  Seems the feeling was contagious, because Laura decided to go for it too, and together with Andy we tackled the mountain as a team of three -- the rest of the hikers had forged on ahead to give themselves plenty of time and were planning on reforming the team at the lake.

The climb was hard, no doubt about that, but soon enough I found myself at the top.  Andy and Laura had gotten ahead after I took a "bio-break" and I did not catch up with them for some time.  Without the synergy of the group it was a lot harder to take each step, but I forced myself onward and upward and fought my own demons to keep moving.  Giving up was not an option, and I rewarded myself with quick breaks, allowing just enough time to burn off the lactic acid in my legs and to allow my pulse to slow a few beats.

Making things harder was a few false "summits" but I could tell I was getting close and the steep parts were behind me.  A corner or two and I caught up, only about 10 minutes behind.  Not bad, not bad at all.

The downhill was fun ... 1800 feet back down to the elevation where we started.  But this time I leaped forward, using my stride and momentum to carry me down the hill fast enough to secure a 10 minute break to wait for them to catch up.  You take your victories when you can!  In all honesty it was not a competition, though, it's just a lot harder on my knees to put the brakes on my weight and with a clean, smooth path I was better off just moving forward and gliding downhill.

Andy had staged a watermelon near the edge of the park, and together with our uneaten and unmolested prize in hand we exited the park and returned to civilization.  Kind of.

Watauga Lake park was full of cars and families, running water, and flush toilets.  That was about it for amenities.  We secured a picnic table and took some time to relax.  Cathie and Cristina has waited for us for hours while Kenny had grown weary of the delays and had pushed on.  Remember they were still thinking that Laura and I were short-cutting and fully expected to see us there at the beach already.    Andy would have double-timed it, so now we were hours off schedule due to our late start and a fairly slow hike up, over and down Pond Mountain.

Over slices of watermelon, the debate ensued as to when to leave and how many more miles to clock.  The two that had been there for hours were ready to leave, while the second wave was ready for a break.  Ideas were floated to go past our scheduled camp, but that would require getting on the trail.  I wanted to wade and relax and get my second wind.  Five of us came up with what seemed like dozens of opinions and the conversation was getting a bit contentious when someone, Andy I think, had a stroke of genius.

He and Cathie would hitchhike to nearby Hampton, Tennessee and secure food and cold drinks.

To be continued ...

Baby Bird

I can't recall the last time I worried about water.

Every backpacking trip I have ever been on has centered around water.  I get hot when I hike and I sweat a lot, so my water needs run higher than the average hiker.  Carrying enough water for me is like stuffing a bowling ball in the backpack.  It's a difficult weight vs benefit trade-off, since water is so critical for survival. 

In my peaceful suburban world there is not a lot of survival going on. Water flows from taps and the biggest danger I face each day is driving to work in a Subaru with 6 airbags.  It takes a while to become attuned to nature's lurking dangers.  It has been a long time since my last truly substantial backpacking trip and I will admit that I was rusty with my skills and allowed a beginner mistake to reach problem status.

It was day three on the trail and we were camping in a place where water access was difficult.  I had just used all my water for breakfast so I was hydrated, but empty.  The map showed a reliable water source just one mile down the trail.  Thus began the chain of errors ... my rule to never skip a water source had just been broken.  But it was just a mile and we had passed a number of unmarked but flowing water sources the day before.  Sounds simple, hike less than an hour and tank up.

The rest of the group had started and were far ahead, leaving me and Laura hiking together.  As we walked the beautiful valleys I began to notice that this side of the mountain seemed a lot drier.  I crossed a little smudge of water on the trail, but it was nothing much more than a muddy mess.  The map said reliable!  So we passed it by, thinking the reliable source was just around the next corner or at the bottom of the next valley.

Soon we realized we were well past the marked water spot with miles to go before the next marked water source. This began my baby bird procedure ... since Laura had about a liter in her pack, every 15 minutes or so we would stop and she would give me a drink out of her supply. To get water I stood right beside her, she would hand me the short tube, and I would take a drink.  We weren't uncomfortable with that, but it did give us the rough impression of a baby bird getting fed.

We caught up with the group on the trail when they were taking a break.  I explained my dilemma and they came up with about a liter to keep me going.  Bear in mind they too were rationing water having not filled up at camp, but they had calculated for themselves and not for a big, sweating, water-consuming teammate.  Soon they departed for our next waypoint, a hostel about 5 miles away.  Laura and I were drifting behind, our pace being significantly slower and we were still on break when they left.  A liter of water did not last me long, even stretching it out as much as I could. I at least remembered to stay hydrated even if it means running out quicker.

We reached a known point on the map where we stopped to evaluate our situation.  Straight ahead was the main trail or we could turn right and get on another trail to a marked reliable water source down a 600 foot hill.  It was a three mile hike to reach the hostel with unlimited running water.  Oh the temptation ... yet the reality was that it could take two to three hours in that terrain and the the day was getting hotter.  I sat down on a stump and felt a slight wave of nausea.  The decision was made ... I was turning right and climbing down and back up that infernal hill because I was not going to pass up another water source.  Laura readily agreed.

In a bit of a funk, we headed down that trail.  I noted that a stream was just to our right behind some bushes, and in a few hundred more yards we eyeballed the trail as it descended down for what looked like forever.  Not keen on that climb, the stream was going to be our source.  I would do whatever it took to fish some water out of it.  We turned back and got to the most likely spot, I grabbed my water gear and headed in.  Behind some bushes was a stream that was clean and clear, and deep enough to scoop water!  Which I did with great vigor.  Thanks to a Steripen uV water sterilizer, I had a liter of water in 90 seconds that I drank in two swallows.

That turned the day around in a flash. Everything seemed brighter, the colors came back, my mood lifted and this kind of unspectacular piece of ground became a simply beautiful spot. Together we refilled our water bladders and we set out our mats and took a much needed break.   We ate our lunch, then talked and relaxed and just had a great time, relieved that we once again had everything we needed to push on safely. Giddy over a few liters of water on a hot day, how often does that happen?

That muddy spot we passed? If we had traced it back from the trail there was water there to be had ... I never stopped to really look and let an opportunity pass.  I know how to find water, I was trying too hard to press on and did not take the appropriate time to really look, and to really see.  Get-there-itis is what pilots call it.

A few days later I had a similar issue when my full water bladder leaked out on break.  My only guess is that when I set down the pack it compressed the bite valve and the thirsty ground absorbed the slow leak leaving me no indication anything was wrong until about a mile down the trail when I tried to take a drink and came up empty. Impossible, I had not touched that water at all, having been drinking Gatorade from my Nalgene bottle up to that point.  With a hard climb to get back, once again we evaluated our resources and decided to head to the next watering hole.  Indications were it was muddy too, but I had the tools to squeeze water out of anything -- and the motivation to try.  Once again we were in baby bird mode with Laura sharing her water.  She had more water than the first time and we were in less critical of a situation but I still had to be careful.  I need about a liter an hour out there and I was not getting that.

Were we in true danger?  Probably not.  But in the wilderness "probably" is just not enough.  Things change in an instant and dehydration can hit hard and fast.  It would have been a miserable, hot, thirsty slog without her help.  A few miles later we caught up to the group and Andy had filtered a liter of water out of the mud which he gave me and that carried my to camp where we had readily accessible water.   Once again a member of our team came through for me.  We finished a 14 mile day and soon learned that water was the least of our worries, but that is another blog for another day.

I also noticed something:  I was stopping to drink, but Laura was not.  She was discretely saving the water for me and getting thirsty herself to do it. Granted a healthy dose of common sense was part of that decision, by not allowing a problem to escalate into a crisis and getting stuck having to tend to a 260 pound guy passed out on the trail, I get that.  The difference was the sense that we were in this together and together we were going to figure it out and push through.  No complaints, no sarcastic comments, no lecture, just a solution.  That is what I love about her, that perfect, easy partnership and that feeling of not being two individuals thrown together but an effortless team facing down challenges as one.  No need to impress or justify or explain, just work together and make it happen.

Be it the trail journey or life's journey, we need people we can trust around us.  Her act of caring showed me that there are people out there who do not put themselves first or offer assistance, but only at a price.  What a wonderful gift I have been given to have her beside me on this journey.  If we all could surround ourselves with people who truly care and create relationships based on trust rather than mutual self interest,  how different our worlds would be.