[at-l] Trip report (Long but unusual ending)

[donlbx@home.com (Don Bordeaux)]

(If you've already received this, hit delete now!  Our AT lists have become
a bit convoluted recently.)

This post covers a little bit of everything, hiking poles, hammock, cell
phones, SAR:

    I headed out south, solo, from Rockfish Gap at 1630 on November 27th
(Tuesday), aiming for the fish hatchery in Montebello three to four days
out.  I arrived at the Paul Wolfe shelter (5 mi.) at 1830 and had the place
to myself, having passed three northbound day-hikers on their way out.
Having had dinner before heading out, I decided to read myself to sleep via
the register, etc. while nestled in my bag.  Temp. was an unseasonable 56
degrees.  The night passed without incident except for dense fog and acorns
falling on the sheet metal roof.  Fog had lifted by breakfast and, being
overly anxious to get moving, I had a cold breakfast of poptarts, granola
bar, and water and filtered another quart from Mill Creek.
    Headed across the creek and began ascending to the wonderful view from
the overlook .6 mi. from the shelter. After taking a picture and fiddling
with the adjustments on my pack, I hit the trail again - following those
white blazes.  25 mins. later I came upon a shelter! Agggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!! I
had just descended the ascent I had accomplished minutes before.  I was back
at the Wolfe shelter!!  Who was it who recently posted the comment that "90%
of the trail looks like 90% of the trail"?  Of course, the immediate descent
from what had been a pretty vertical ascent should have been a hint. An omen
maybe?  Reascended and continued south without further difficulty, until . .
.
    I had spent Wed. night in my Hennessy Hammock off the blue-blaze trail
to the Laurel Springs picnic area. Everything remained wet because of
another night of dense fog and I headed out, after donning the wet smelly
clothes
from Weds. hike, to attempt to reach Three Ridges Overlook (5.5 mi) before
stopping for lunch.  I passed Dripping Rocks on the Blue Ridge Pkwy. and on
past Rocks Overlook and Raven's Overlook. The trail was typically rocky for
this area and had an added layer of wet leaves on top of the wet rocks.  I
made a mental note to myself to be extremely cautious.  I attempted to
ensure that my hiking poles provided a three or four point foundation before
crossing particularly treacherous, wet, rocky areas.  I was doing pretty
well until . . .
    I began a descent and observed that this was, indeed, a treacherous
area. Almost immediately my leading (left) boot lost traction and my leg
shot out in front of me and I attempted to get my left pole in position to
substitute.  It, too, skidded off the wet, leaf covered rocks and I realized
I was going down.  My right leg apparently slipped as well and ended up
under my right buttock now weighing my 175 + 37 lbs. pack weight.  I knew I
was in trouble when I leaned over and looked backward at my right foot which
had assumed a 90 degree angle from my leg.  Oooooouch!  I knew it was broken
but thought I would attempt to favor it while hobbling the rest of the way
to Three Ridges.  I stood and my right foot wobbled around on the end of my
leg as if it was only attached by my sock.  I realized that there would be
no walking on that foot.
    I retrieved my Tyvek footprint from my pack and sat it on the rocks to
provide a dry seat while I entertained my options.  I had been hiking for
two+ days and had not seen any other hikers except the three day-hikers
headed the opposite direction on the first day.  It was 1230 and I realized
I had 4 or 4 1/2 hours of daylight left. The forecast was for scattered
showers
Thurs. night and showers on Friday.  I started to cool down because of the
morning hike sweat, my slowing metabolism and the wind was now cool and
noticeable coming off the ridge. My butt started to chill so I retrieved my
closed cell pad and placed that under me and against the rock wall next to
me so I could lean against it. Again I assessed my situation.  The foot
began to throb.  I was somewhere between Dripping Rocks and Three Ridges but
only knew that I was closer to Three Ridges but didn't know by how much.
Regardless, I determined that would be the direction for my egress or for
rescuers' ingress.  One last look around and I resignedly (God, forgive me)
reached into my pack for my (dare I say it?) cell phone.
    I dialed 911, got Va. State Police dispatch who connected me with NPS
ranger. [All names omitted for lack of permission.] He asked where I was and
then told me he was about seventy miles away on the Pkwy. but would dispatch
local rescue personnel and he would also be enroute.  Minutes later I heard
a siren in the distance - a long way in the distance.  Somehow I thought I
was closer to Three Ridges than that.  I began to get colder so I took out
my synthetic bag and wrapped it around me.  I settled in for the wait.  An
hour and a half passed and then . . .
    From the north a figure appeared.  It was another hiker!  He had his
headphones on and was intently watching the ground in front of him.  Not
wanting to startle him, or worse yet, have him stumble over me, I waved my
arms and called to him.  He finally saw me and showed immediate concern.
"Are you o.k.?  Can I help?", he asked.  I told him my situation and that
help was on the way.  He asked if I would like for him to stay with me.  I
assured him that that would be nice and he took his pack off and sat down.
He was sobo thru-hiking and had taken a few weeks off to go home for
Thanksgiving.  We talked about gear and he told me that he no longer carried
a tent since he usually made it to a shelter each night.  I told him I was
concerned that daylight would soon be waning and he needed to get going if
he intended to make it to Maupin Field shelter by nightfall.  He agreed and
said he would let the responding rescuers' know the time difference between
his leaving me and his meeting them so they would know how far away I was.
The time was 1409 hours.
    At approx. 1430 hrs., two rescuers from the Wintergreen Fire Dept.
rounded the
trail from Three Ridges.  I had purchased a disposable camera in Waynesboro
before hitting the trail and, as the rescuers rounded the corner, I snapped
a picture of them.  I don't know whether they thought that was really
amusing or what but they were good sports about it. Various radio
transmissions followed and the primary rescuer began to take vital signs and
assess the injury. He said, "I'm going to have to cut your pant leg off".  I
showed him that I had a zip-off pant leg and he thought that was cool.  He
did, however, have to cut off my Thorlo and sock liner.  The deformity was
immediately discernable and that info was radioed back.  At about that time,
two more rescuers arrived from the north.  They had entered at Dripping
Rocks and had apparently maintained a pretty good pace.  One of them turned
out to be the search and rescue chief from Wintergreen.  (Wintergreen is a
ski resort and its fire department is a private entity but has to follow
certain service-need mandates by search and rescue certifying agencies, and
therefore are responsible to respond to calls within a certain distance of
their resort.  After watching them in action, I can tell you that I would
pit them against any governmental fire/search/rescue entity for
professionalism and efficiency.  I have almost three decades of government
law enforcement experience that has allowed me certain insights into such
things.)
    I offered up my hiking poles for use as a splint and they provided one
of their fire jackets as padding.  It was decided that my sleeping bag would
serve as a litter with two saplings providing the handles.  When it was
discovered that my bag did not unzip all the way around, there was concern
from the rescuers about cutting a hole in the end of it.  I insisted that it
could be resewn and since it was synthetic we didn't have to worry about
feathers blowing around.  (Hey, another plus for the synthetic vis a vis
down bag discussion!)  Two saplings were cut down, a hole was produced and I
mounted the litter.  It wasn't working real well as my head had no support
and therefore was hanging down awkwardly. They decided to use my closed-cell
pad to place across the two saplings under my head.  Worked great!  Next
problem was the insufficient width of the trail.  With me between two
rescuers at each end caused one or the other of the two slipping/sliding off
the trail.  The incline wasn't dangerous, just rough going.  They decided it
wasn't working.  I suggested that I place my arms around two of their necks
with a third rescuer out front supporting my injured leg.  They agreed to
try it but it posed the same problem with the too narrow trail.  More radio
transmissions and a Stokes stretcher was enroute. (This is a basket-type
stretcher that one normally associates with helicopter rescues.  However,
this one had a suspension system with a single large air-filled tire beneath
it.)  We decided to sit and wait for it.  More rescuers arrived - we now had
six.
    It was getting close to 1600 hrs., when most volunteer SAR persons are
getting off their day-jobs.  The call for more support was "toned-out" and
soon more rescuers were literally coming out of the woods.  The Stokes
basket arrived and we started up the trail.  It was slow going over the
rocky terrain and word was passed that support personnel were up ahead
searching the trailside to determine a short cut up the side of the ridge to
get to the Blue Ridge Pkwy. above us.  A shortcut was discovered, or
better - was manufactured, and we made the 90 degree turn to head up the
mountainside with a dozen rescuers manhandling the stretcher with me in it.
Not a comfortable ride, but certainly shorter than continuing on the trail
below to Three Ridges.  We arrived on the Pkwy. and I was extremely glad to
be there if not a little embarrassed.  There was fire equipt. and personnel
all over the place.  I also felt a little guilty - you know - you place
yourself voluntarily at risk and then call for help from others when things
don't work out - oh well, guess I'll get over it. :-)  I was certainly
thankful for every one of them. They had come from communities as far away
as Waynesboro and others.  Great bunch of people!
    They loaded me into a Wintergreen ambulance and gave me the choice of
University of Va. hospital or Augusta Medical Center.  Since AMC was closer,
I chose that one.  It was now approx. 1730 hrs. and by 1800 hrs. I was lying
on clean sheets (in my wet, smelly, three-day old hiking clothes) in the ER
awaiting x-rays.  The x-rays confirmed that the fibula was broken and the
tibia had dislocated from the ankle socket.  Tendons and ligaments had been
damaged and surgery would have to be scheduled.  The ortho doctor gave me
the choice of staying in Fishersville (AMC) and scheduling the surgery for
Fri. or I could return to Hampton, VA and schedule with my own orthopedic
surgeon (who knows me well, BTW).  I opted to call my wife in Hampton and
have her come pick me up for the return trip home and subsequent surgery
with my MD.  She was surprised (to put it mildly) to hear from me and left
from her work as an RN at the local hospital, picked up my son (to drive my
car back home from Rockfish Gap), and arrived at AMC (200 miles) in almost
half the time it had taken to get me off the trail and to the hospital!
    Surgery occurred on 12/1/01 and a plate and screws were used to hold the
tibia in the joint of the ankle.  A reassessment will occur in ten days to
determine if further surgery is necessary for the soft tissue damage.
    Oh, the doctor says I should be ready to start my nobo thru-hike in
mid-April as planned.  I'll keep you guys posted.

Thanks for listenin',

Don Bordeaux
GA-ME 2002