****Content Warning**** My posts are usually PG. Today’s post includes some graphic pictures and descriptions that are more along the PG-13 lines. If you are reading this with children, please preview the content before sharing with them. I’m finding it fairly traumatic just reliving it in this post.
This is a difficult post to write. Know in advance that there is a good ending, or it will be.
A Beautiful Day
Such a pretty, unassuming box canyon. The colors on the cliffs were so vibrant!
I find it hard to believe that just 2 weeks ago, I was hiking in New Mexico without any concerns. I had just resupplied and enjoyed a relaxing few days at Ghost Ranch. Lovely place if you take that alternate! We had had some heavy rains, surprising for the desert, off and on over the previous week. Some hikers even had pictures and video of a tornado! But since water had been scarce throughout the section before Cuba, I was happy to have abundant water in this section.
So, I set off on a sunny Tuesday morning in early June. I knew we were forecast for some days over 90° over the next week, so I had planned to break camp by sunrise, hike early, rest midday, and hike into the evening hours, making camp as the sun was setting.
That day, I set off after a nice breakfast at Ghost Ranch. It was still mild out, so I wasn’t in a rush. As I entered the box canyon, I found the trail difficult to follow. A steadily flowing stream cut through the center of the canyon. Sometimes, the trail was in and along the stream. Other times, it was up along a small bluff. I had to backtrack a few times to pick the best route while still heading up the canyon. I knew from the GPS topo map that the trail left the main canyon, headed up a side canyon, and wound it’s way up to the top of the cliffs. The trick was getting to that point.
I saw a small side trail on the map that headed that way along the embankment and could easily find it in the canyon. Along the well-used trail, I passed several cairns and was enjoying my hike. I stopped for a few pictures of the pretty canyon from different vantage points.
And Then it Happened…
I fell from this ledge.
Just before 10:30, I was walking along another embankment on this trail on the side canyon. And I slid off. It happened so quickly, I’m not sure I can accurately describe the fall down to the side stream. I quickly slid 15-20 feet down the steep slope before landing fully on my front on a large slab boulder. Then I slowly slid off the boulder into a pool of cool water about 2 feet deep.
My first instant thought was to collect myself and then get myself out of the water. In the next breath, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. This was bad. Really bad. I got dizzy and had to tell myself, “No, you can’t pass out. You’re the only one who can push the button.” I forced myself to stay alert and hit the SOS button on my Personal Locator Beacon (PLB). My biggest concern was not being able to move my left hip. At all. I couldn’t see any injury. I had minimal pain. But I couldn’t move my leg from my hip in any direction. My right knee was supporting my body while my left knee was bent and floating freely in the pool. I had also hit my head on the boulder and I had pain in my forearms.
A few minutes later, I wrestled my backpack off and threw it up onto the boulder that I was clinging to. (Remember, I had just resupplied for a week, so my pack was pretty heavy.) Then I pulled my waist pack off, too. I took a full assessment of my injuries. I hit my head and was bleeding on my forehead. I could move everything on my right side with little pain. I could move and feel my left foot, ankle, and knee. I could not move my left hip. My forearms hurt, too. My left elbow was the most painful injury so far, but I was able to move it and it didn’t appear swollen. In that first half hour, I remembered my first aid kit was in reach in the pack’s side pocket closest to me! I dug it out and took some pain relievers. I had clean water in reach, too, so I kept sipping that.
I checked my Zoleo app on my phone to see if the SOS had sent. PLBs require three satellites to triangulate your position. The larger view of the sky, the easier it is to get three satellites to catch your signal. In situations like mine, where the view of the sky was narrow, it can take a long time for three satellites to be close enough to be visible to the PLB. A half hour later, I still didn’t have a signal. I unhooked the PLB from the shoulder strap of my backpack and moved it 2-3 feet towards the main canyon. Almost immediately, my SOS sent! I messaged my situation to the emergency response.
I hit my head, but not enough to knock me out.
Over the next 3 hours, I continued to text emergency services. They wanted me to try to get out of the water, but with my hip not moving, I couldn’t get out of the deep pool. I set a timer on my phone as a reminder and blew my whistle every 10 minutes. I tried not to let panic set in during the long wait. When I found myself starting to get upset or cry, I forced myself to remain calm. I knew that help was on the way. I also knew another group of hikers would be coming from Ghost Ranch that evening or in the morning. Panicking would do nothing to help my situation and could create more problems. So, messaging with emergency services and blowing my whistle became my job. My part in my rescue. It gave me something active to do to ensure I would get out of the situation. But, good golly, it was the longest 3 hours.
During this time, I also texted my teenaged son and told him my situation. For some reason, he was the only family member getting my Zoleo texts this year. I hated putting the burden on the youngest member of my family. I knew he was with his dad, grandmom, brother-in-law, and several friends, so he had support for the second-hand trauma.
Found!
I was in this pool for 3 hours.
I kept my eyes on the entrance to the side canyon. Around 1:30, I saw a group of people enter the side canyon! I blew my whistle frantically (think Rose at the end of Titanic), and waved my arm. They saw me immediately ( I was wearing a bright yellow sun shirt) and waved back. I lost track of time from this point on. When they were across the canyon from me, they rappelled down the embankment on that side. They introduced themselves and their affiliations. I started crying in relief. Two women were from Ghost Ranch – one of them was the camp nurse. The other two were NM State Troopers. They all agreed that my whistle helped them pinpoint my location. They had the GPS coordinates, but could hear my whistle bouncing around the canyon long before they got to the side canyon. Then the whistle helped direct them to the side canyon when they were closer.
The nurse started taking my vitals and used some of my clean water to wash the wound on my forehead. The others started looking for a safe place to move me to once they got me out of the water. The original plan was to get me out of the water, then slide the soft stretcher under me so they could carry me to the designated location. With my hip frozen in place, we couldn’t move me more than just turning me onto my side. Change in plans. I stayed on my side while they splinted my hip and thigh. Then they shifted the stretcher under me. That meant the stretcher had to get wet, too. They were concerned about hypothermia and shock since I was in the water for so long. The wet stretcher wouldn’t help the situation, but there was no other way to get me out of the water.
They got me up to the designated safe location and started piling raincoats, foil blankets, and anything else suitable onto me to help me warm up. I had started shivering occasionally just before they arrived, but once I was out of the water, it was almost constant. The pain in my leg intensified horribly, too. We talked about how the water had actually been good in my situation because the coolness helped reduce pain and inflammation, and the buoyancy helped support my hip. Gravity hurts! Under the guidance of the nurse, I took more pain meds from my first aid kit.
We talked about the plan to get me out. One of the rescuers climbed back up the rope with a walkie-talkie to send our location to the rest of the crew. At first, they were expecting medevac to drop a basket for me. We even saw the helicopter fly overhead before leaving. We figured the canyon was too deep and narrow for them to drop a basket for me. Two of the rescuers left to head back to the main canyon so they could direct everyone else to our location. While we waited we talked about how this situation could have happened. The person from Ghost Ranch said all of the recent, heavy rains had been making some of the trails treacherous and unstable. They also said that I did everything right to be found. From my Zoleo, to my whistle blowing, and my bright shirt.
Get me out of here!
Some time later, two medevac paramedics came into my sight. They introduced themselves and everything seemed to happen quickly. I was facing the embankment, so I couldn’t see everyone else in the search and rescue crew, but it felt like a crowd was there. The female paramedic got an IV started on the back of my hand immediately. She conferred with the male paramedic on meds and doses. I know she gave me fentanyl, something for nausea, and a third drug, but I don’t remember the last one.
I started sobbing. The male paramedic was so calm and he assured me that was on purpose to help me stay calm. He asked why I was crying and I could only get out that, yes, I was in pain, but I was more overwhelmed that they were going to get me out. I also asked if someone had contacted my family to let them know I was found and getting out. I had not used my Zoleo since the first rescuers arrived and didn’t want my family to worry. I was really worried about leaving my teenager hanging with no response if he had sent another text. The paramedic took my husband’s number and dialed it into his phone, even though we didn’t have a signal in the box canyon.
They shifted me out of the soft stretcher and onto a hard stretcher. My legs were splinted together. They suspected a broken femur based on the location and severity of my injury. And then they carried me out. I think there were about two dozen rescuers in total at this point. Besides the two from Ghost Ranch, the two troopers, the two paramedics, and the medevac pilot, I also saw many Abiquiu firefighters, Abiquiu police, and others I couldn’t identify.
I think 10 at a time were carrying the stretcher. The male paramedic kept everyone rotating through the carry so that no one was too tired. Every few minutes, he would call out, “Two fresh people to the front, please!” Two people would take over the first position and everyone would move down a handhold. The last two at my feet would drop off and take a break. The front of the litter often called out, “boulder on the right,” “steep and slippery here,” ” deep water,” ” or other alerts to the rest of the crew carrying me. As challenging as it was for me to hike it that morning, I know it was so much more for them. Someone also carried my gear out. And they were moving quickly. Really quickly.
As soon as phones started to ping with the signal, the paramedic hit the call button on his phone and handed it to me. I cried as I talked to my husband and assured him that they were carrying me out. He told me he was on the next flight to Albuquerque and would be at the hospital before lunch the next day.
They carried me over a mile out of the box canyon. Then they put my stretcher in the bed of some utility truck. The female paramedic and another rescuer climbed in with me. From here on, I think I was losing consciousness occasionally, because the details are fuzzy. The paramedic pushed more meds for the flight. The truck took me another 1/2 mile or so to where the chopper was parked. The paramedics put my leg in some sort of traction device for the flight and my stretcher was attached to the wheeled stretcher for the flight.
Then we took off. It was a small chopper. My feet were snugged up against the back of the front seat. The female paramedic was at my head and the other paramedic was on my right. I could see out the window the whole flight. As I saw the mountain in Albuquerque come into view, I knew we were close. I just told myself to hang on a little longer. I saw the helipad on the roof of the hospital. When we touched down, the door opened and I vaguely recall my stretcher starting to come out of the helicopter.
Stay tuned
This retelling was emotional and exhausting for me. I will post a follow-up in the next few days about my hospital stay and coming home. Know for now that I am safe and healing. It will be a long, difficult recovery, but the medical staff assured me that I will hike next summer.
My biggest takeaway from this ordeal is to be prepared for this eventuality. None of us thru-hikers (or even day hikers) ever want or expect to need search and rescue. But the unexpected does happen. Have some sort of PLB and know how to use it in emergencies. Review the directions, rehearse using it without actually pushing the button, keep it charged, keep it accessible. Know where your first aid kit is and what supplies you have. Carry a whistle. Many backpacks now have emergency whistles incorporated in the chest strap clasp. If yours doesn’t, get one and keep it where you can access it easily. Wear bright clothes. I know some like stealth mode, but blending in makes it more difficult for rescuers to find you. My story could have ended much differently if I had not been prepared.
