Suckfest...

The journey of a thousand miles sometimes begins with one missed step. 2019 had not been the best year. With three surgeries for my lovely bride and two for the dog we call Pyrite, my lovely bride and I wanted to leave 2019 behind us and start 2020 on the right path. It seemed like a good idea at the time.


We rolled into a very crowded Butcher Jones Beach parking lot sometime around noon on New Year’s Day. We lucked out and found a spot close to the trailhead. Still listening to the Eagles on Spotify, I discovered my cell phone has amazing acoustics in the outhouse. Once our pit stops were complete, Lisa and I started up the trail to whatever new and wonderful horizons 2020 had in store for us.



The trail was crowded with families and friends. The air was warm and the blue sky peeked through the cloudy patchwork of lingering storms. As we made our way up the path, the view of the lake and the snow on Four Peaks helped us determine we had made a good decision. The further we made our way down the trail, the fewer people we saw.  It was still crowded, but we no longer needed to bring our own rock to sit on.



As they sometimes do, the trail split. Right was the trail to Camper’s Cove and left was the Butcher Jones trail. While an advocate of taking the path less traveled, I wanted to stay on task and finish what we started. My lovely bride agreed. We peeled off to the left and made our way down the wash headed for the trail’s end.



I was several steps in front of her when I heard my lovely bride start to slide on the loose gravel that covered the steep and narrow trail. I turned and told her, “Careful love, we are too far out for you to get injured.” Once she caught her balance she took one or two more steps as  I watched her foot stay in place and her leg continue down the trail. With a shrill of pain, she screamed out. I watched as her tibia (the big bone in her lower leg) pushed against the skin leaving her foot pushed out in a deformed position usually only seen in first aid books. As she fell to the rocky trail below her, she simply and profoundly stated “IT IS BROKEN!” While I examined the injury, I received a tongue lashing of epic proportions on my telling her we were too far out to walk back if she was injured. As if I had jinxed her. I guess I owe her a Coke.



Once on the dust settled, the ankle realigned itself and it was in its natural position. We tried to see if she could bear any weight. She could not. I splinted it with a SAM splint that I like to carry for special occasions. This qualified. The splint stabilized the foot and eased the pain, but she still could not bear weight. Based on my training and experience, I quickly determined we needed help. After stabilizing her injury, I made sure she was warm and somewhat comfortable. I went for help. I had my SPOT unit (satellite communication device) but fortunately, I was able to get a cell signal on top of the hill. I really hated being on this side of 9-1-1, but it simply needed to be done. I knew by calling 911, dispatch and responders would automatically have my GPS location. This is an important detail in a wilderness setting.



The Sheriff’s Office arrived by boat quickly.  I met them on the shore and walked them to where my lovely bride was awaiting her rescuers. One of the deputies was cross trained as a paramedic. He offered her some pain killers, but she declined. He did however, give her an open-ended invitation for a drug party in the desert should the pain become too bothersome. After building a much better splint than I had, we wrapped her up in a soft carry stretcher, which Lisa called “a taco.”



The initial fifty feet up the hill and out of the wash were by far the most treacherous. The trail, in spots, was balance beam wide with loose gravel, eroded edges and bordered by cactus on either side.  Just as we approached the top of the hill, I found myself, for some unknown reason, losing my balance. I would have gladly tumbled down the hill or taken a header into a cactus, but gravity hates me. I fell on top of my lovely bride. I managed not to cause her any harm, but I am certain I severely bruised my pride.



With the help of Ken and Shannon, two hikers I recruited to help walk her to the shore, we were able to get her loaded onto the Sheriff’s boat. The deputies slowly navigated back to their aid station and carried her into the medical room. Because my lovely bride is a tough old broad and elected to be extricated without medications, I was able to self-transport her to a medical facility close to home.



Once at the hospital, our biggest fears and justification for bothering the deputies came to fruition; her ankle was broken in two different places. It was severe enough that it required surgery and three days in the hospital. Morphine became her best friend. She is at home and is resting comfortably.



What started out as a simple walk in the desert turned into a somewhat epic adventure. Which lends to some thoughts. If you treat every hike in the desert as if it were a night in the rain, you won’t make the 10 o’clock news. Take a wilderness first aid class and carry supplies every time you venture out. Make sure you have more than one way to summon help. Most importantly, have adventures and have them often. When you start your journey of a thousand miles, always be ready for that one momentary misstep. Just sayin’…