Evolution Range: Alistair.

What, you may ask, had happened to Alistair since my departure to seek help? What perspectives does he have on this (mis)adventure? I’ll let him tell you himself:

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The Fall

I’ve lost count of the number of times my foot has slipped on some gravel. I don’t know what was different this time - did my toe catch something? - but instead of just slipping, this time my foot got turned underneath, and I distinctly heard and felt a couple of “pops” as I went down. I know as soon as it happens that it is the end of the trip. After a moment assessing the pain - not too bad, but bad enough I know it isn’t right - and both of us checking there isn’t some sort of catastrophic damage - I can flex a little, no grinding/grating, wiggle my toes, etc. I try and relax, as Dallas tapes everything up. Those Wilderness First Aid  courses are proving their value…

The Wait

Dallas has already recounted most of what went on the rest of that day. While she walks down to the McClure ranger station, I set up camp, and make sure to soak my foot in the nearby stream. When I think she’ll be getting back soon, I cook up some food. Various scenarios play out in my head as well, in particular trying to decide if I could walk/hobble out. I think we could have done it, but it would have meant abandoning a lot of gear, would probably have taken ~2 days, and ran the risk of me further damaging my ankle. So after Dallas’ return, and lots of discussion, the decision to “push the button” is made. After that, I go to sleep quickly. Nothing to worry about until the morning… Except I wake up sometime in the middle of the night with my foot hurting where it had swollen up, and the tape overly tight. A restless few hours putting up with it, and going over various contingency plans again - which way would be best to walk out if need be? How long would it take? What do we do if SAR arrive while Dallas is gone? - and it was getting light.

Dallas makes coffee and breakfast, and replaces the too tight tape job with one that still provides support but isn’t as constricting. My foot is quite impressively swollen, and beginning to show some good bruising. We’re out of our limited supply of Naproxen (been maxing out the dosage of those for the last day), so I get some Ibuprofen and Vicodin with breakfast. A last minute consult on what-if plans, Dallas is off down the trail. I spend the next hour or so on the opposite of yesterday's activities, alternating soaking my foot in the nearby stream (one benefit of being in the mountains: a good supply of very cold water) and getting the campsite packed up - whatever happens, we won’t be spending another night here. Then I hear it - coming in up the Evolution Valley, the distinctive sound of a helicopter. It circles a few times as I wave, then lands just 50 feet away. I greet them with mixed emotions - I’m very happy to see these guys, because I know I’m going to be gone soon, but am pretty sure they won’t want to wait around for Dallas to get back.

The Evacuation

I start answering a series of questions that will become very familiar - everything from what happened through complete medical history. The only two things that stand out in my memory is that they are impressed with the tape job, and specifically ask how long we have been at altitude, as I apparently have very high blood oxygenation for the altitude (98% at 11,600 feet - always did think I acclimatized well).

King's Canyon SAR helicopter in action on another mission (also for a broken ankle).

As always in my experience, the National Parks SAR team are highly experienced and very competent. Soon enough, they have gear packed away, I’m in a flight suit, and the decision has been made that they can’t wait for Dallas. As part of that, they ask a number of questions about other things we’ve done, and I tell them about some of Dallas’ other trips. Another round of mixed emotions as they decide we can leave her to walk out alone, with their radio report radio describing her as very competent and well able to hike out solo. I leave a note for Dallas, confirming our previous plan for this, and that I’m headed to Bishop, and then we’re off. I try to enjoy the flight as we fly out, past Mendel and Darwin, over the col south of Lamarck and down over Lake Sabrina. The scenery is spectacular, but I also have an ankle and partner on my mind. An ambulance is waiting, and we repeat the dance of health questions; the paramedics also admire the tape job as they cut it off. It’s a short drive to Northern Inyo Hospital, and a third and fourth rounds of questions, a series of x-rays, some waiting around, and then the news: it’s broken (fibula), and the medial ligament is torn. Surgery will be required to put everything back together. At this stage, I’m basically numb - I’d mostly tried to convince myself that it was just a bad sprain.

The kindness of strangers

I get outfitted with crutches, a walking boot to immobilize things, and have to organize what to do with myself, with no cash, ID, credit cards or anything else. Cynthia, the social services nurse, takes charge - arranges a shower, a place to sit in the staff lounge, a phone recharger, and a list of hotels. Later, when I was leaving the hospital, she made sure I had a few dollars to get dinner. She, and everyone I’ve met through this has gone out of their way to be helpful; I hope to find ways to repay that. I see that Dallas has used the SPOT beacon to check in, at 12:09, near the second lake in Darwin Canyon. There was a nice campsite there we spotted on the way in, but I can’t tell whether she has just stopped there for lunch, or is going to stay the night, and won’t get started on the col until the next day. I hope she will keep going, but suspect she has stopped - she’s probably already done enough for the day. In any case, I have no option; I leave a message for her on her phone, get a ride to the hotel in the back of a police cruiser (another first), and settle in for the evening. The police give me their card, and tell me to call them if I need anything. Nothing to do but sit in the hotel, watch TV, and take a percocet at bedtime. When I don’t get an evening signal from the SPOT, I realize that Dallas has indeed stopped in Darwin Canyon, which means she probably isn’t getting out until midday tomorrow.

Trussed up in the walking 'moon' boot.

At the hotel breakfast the next morning, I eat as much as I can, since I’m not entirely sure where lunch is coming from (I also stuff a muffin and banana in my pocket), and at about 11:30a, see if I can get a lift up to the parking lot where we left the car. My plan is to wait there for Dallas, and if there is no sign of her by mid-afternoon, I’ll raise an alarm. The local sheriff's office very kindly agrees to drive me up. On the way, we’re looking for our car, in case Dallas gets there first, and just minutes from the carpark, we see it! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see her. The rest of the time is a blur of driving, doctors, waiting for surgery, and now trying to recover.

The kind Sheriff's department officer.

Final thoughts

As Dallas described, I think this situation just reinforced how well matched we are, and how well we work together; I’m privileged and lucky to have her as my partner. But I also hope to never have to do this again, in any form!

Ready for surgery to 'plate' the broken fibula, 6 days post-accident.

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During the long drive home and following days, I thought a great deal about these five days. As I write, Al is laid up on the sofa after surgery, his lower leg encased in an enormous cast. He'll recover with time, after suffering significant pain and inconvenience. Plans have had to be changed, family life adjusted. Strangely, I feel positive about the experience. Why?  Consider one of the definitions of evolution: ‘A gradual process in which something changes into a different and usually more complex or better form’.  Gradual is a throwback to Darwin’s original idea. More recently, evolutionary biologists, led by Stephen Jay Gould (whose namesake peak we had been climbing), have posited that the rate of evolution is not constant, that there are long periods of stability interspersed with times of rapid change as a result of increases in selection pressure.

Can these ideas from biology also apply on a personal level? I believe so. To me, this experience was the crucible that provided the pressure for rapid change …to a better form. As I mentioned in the first part of this blog, these annual mountain adventures are crucial opportunities for Al and I to reconnect away from the pressures of family and work, doing something that we love. The necessity of working together to get ourselves out of this unexpected situation kicked that process into high gear. Under pressure, we found strength in unity.  When events separated us, we worried for one another, and strove for a rapid reunion. We make a pretty damn good team - the fact that Al estimated when I would emerge from the Lamarck Col trail to within 5 minutes is testament to how well he knows me after nearly 28 years together. Beyond this rejuvenation of partnership, I emerged more confident in my own skills and abilities. To put the wilderness first aid training to use in the backcountry successfully was hugely empowering. To have managed to find my own way out gave me more faith in abilities developed on recent solo hikes.   I emerged a better person. We emerged a stronger team.

Strength, ability, partnership. 

Evolution.