“There are a lot of
intersecting trails in this area. Are you sure we are going in the right
direction?” She asked breathlessly as they fumbled with their maps.
“I believe we are,” he
responded, opening up the topo, tracing the map’s dotted lines with his finger.
“Look here. It shows that we are to turn on the trail that bears to the right
at this intersection of other trails.”
“Okay, I suppose your
right,” she nodded wearily while looking over his shoulder. “Can we rest for a
while? I’m just not feeling it today.”
She is normally a very
strong backpacker. But today, her typical strength and resolve never
materialized and she struggled as they made their ascent.
- - - - - -
They are best friends. They
enjoy each other’s company. Their likes and dislikes are the same. They have
many things in common. That is what drew them together and into a loving
marriage over a dozen years earlier. They relied on each other’s strong points
while working hard to blend disparate families, kids, households, and job
expectations.
The love of the outdoors, especially
the mountains, is one of the things they have in common. They are not
mountaineers, but enjoy mountain backpacking. They have to travel far to
participate in this sport since the flat topography of their home state doesn’t
have anything to fulfill many of the outdoor experiences they most enjoy.
Their destination this year
was northern New Mexico. Their trek to the state’s highest point, 13,161 foot
Wheeler Peak, started at the lower ski village parking lot at sunrise on a cold
and crisp late August morning.
They weren’t going to
attempt a round-trip summit and return all in one day. In their younger years,
doing so would have been much easier. But those younger days had long since
past. Now in their fifties, they had to be more reasonable in their
expectations of what they can physically accomplish.
They wanted to make it to La
Cal Basin and set up camp below tree line before the forecasted clouds and
lightening storms arrived in the early afternoon. From there, they would tackle
the summit early the following morning before that day’s inevitable mountain
thunderstorms.
“Please, can we stop to rest
again?” She was frustrated with herself. She normally keeps pace with him, and was exasperated that he was dozens of yards ahead of her.
“I don’t believe we have
much farther to go.” He tried to be encouraging. “You see this rise up ahead?
That is Frazer Mountain. According to the map, our camp is just the other side
of it and then down about 500 feet into the basin and its tree cover.”
She rose to her feet,
leaning heavily on her trekking poles. She didn’t notice the herd of bighorn
sheep until she first saw him with his camera a few feet off the trail. He snapped
his photos and shot his video. The animals looked at them with disinterest.
They have seen these two-legged camera toting animals before and are no longer
afraid of their presence. They eventually moved on, looking back at them as
they cleared a ridge and disappeared from view.
They arrived at the basin
and found a flat, stream-side clearing in the trees where they quickly set up
the tent. They got inside just as the thunder started to rumble and the rains began
to fall. They slept deeply, lulled to the pitter-patter of the rain on the tent
fly.
“I feel like I’m going to
throw-up,” she said, awakening him from his mid day nap. She quickly unzipped
the side door and released the lunch and drink mix ingested earlier.
“Are you going to be ok?” he
asked. He looked at her with concern. He remembered how she struggled earlier
in the day. Heavy physical exertion and high mountain elevations have not
impacted her like this before.
“I’m good,” she said
unconvincingly. “Let me sleep a little while longer.”
They both closed their eyes.
As he dozed off again, he wondered what is going on with her but tried not to
worry.
“Aargh!” She moaned and cried
out loudly. He woke to see her body stiffen and her head arch backward. She was
in extreme pain.
“Honey? HONEY!” He scrambled
out of his sleeping bag and onto his knees to get close to her.
“Honey, what’s
wrong? Tell me what’s wrong!”
Her eyes were open but had
rolled back in their sockets. She wasn’t breathing. He shook her, hoping a
breath would return. Her lips had turned blue.
“Please honey! What’s
happening?” He was in full panic. He fumbled through his pack to find his cell
phone. It took what seemed to be an eternity to boot up from its off position.
She exhaled after a full
minute or so of not breathing. Her body relaxed. Her eyes were still rolled
back, their pupils invisible. She frothed at the mouth as she breathed rapidly
through her closed lips.
He noticed one bar on the
phone’s display screen. One bar! He was thankful for even that, and surprised
given their remote location. It had to come from a tower down by the ski
village on the other side of Frazer Mountain.
“911. What is your
emergency?”
“My wife! She’s having a
stroke, a seizure…I…I don’t know what. Can you send help? Quickly?”
He was told to calm down.
“Where are you calling from?”
He tried to describe the
topography of his surroundings. “I’m in the trees at the top of the drainage,
just off the trail leading to Wheeler Peak, near Frazer Mountain.”
The operator was unfamiliar
with the area. “Hold on the line. We’ll ping you location.”
Her eyes opened. The pupils were
now visible but stared off without a focus. “Honey! Please tell me you’re ok!
Honey?” He tried to shake and nudge her out of her stupor while still holding
the phone to his ear.
“Where am I?” She looked at
him confusingly. “Are we on vacation?”
“Yes…yes! We’re in New
Mexico in the mountains. You’ve had a stroke or a seizure. Help is on the way!”
“The mountains?” What state
are we in? Are we on vacation?”
As he repeated himself and
worried about her condition and disorientation, the intermittent beeps on his
phone indicating he’d been on hold had stopped.
“Sir, are you still on the line?”
“Yes! Is help on the way?”
“A search and rescue team
from the ski village is on their way. Stay where you’re at. They will try and
call you when they get near.”
He got her out of her
sleeping bag and onto a nearby log bench. “Where are we? What happened?” She was
still disoriented.
“Help is on the way, honey.”
He took off her hiking clothes and dressed her in her warm sweaters, pants,
jackets, and other dry clothing. He knew she would get chilled during the
rescue.
He hastily packed up camp. He
didn’t know how the rescue operation would unfold once the team arrived. He didn’t
want to delay a departure back to town, nor did he want to be far behind if she
was required to be evacuated before him.
“My back is killing me!” She
was becoming more lucid. “I can barely move.” The stiffening during her episode
had damaged and strained the muscles in her back.
He stuffed the tent and its
poles into their sack. The sleeping bags and pads were rolled up. Other items,
scattered about, were quickly disassembled. All were stuffed into the backpacks
without the normal concern about efficiency and weight distribution.
His phone rang. “This is
search and rescue. We need you to guide us in to your location. We’re up at the
ridge line near Frazer.”
He told them to look to the
southeast. “Do you see the trees at the head of the drainage down in the basin?
We’re about fifty feet off the trail next to the creek.”
He told her to sit tight.
“I’m going to go up the trail to meet the search team and guide them back
here.” She assured him she’ll be ok. She was becoming more aware of her
condition and her surroundings.
They arrived by ATV. They had
to park it at a point where even the ruggedness of the trail would allow it to
go no further. He helped them with the oxygen tank, backboard, and other
emergency equipment as they walked down to the trees.
They took her vitals and
affixed an oxygen tube to her nose. He described in detail what happened,
hoping that in doing so he would be helping them in their diagnosis.
“Ma’am, are you able to walk
up to our ATV or do you think we will need to carry you?”
She struggled to her feet
and walked gingerly. “I think I can make it,” she said, wincing from the pain
in her back. She slowly, but gamely, made her way over the trail’s rocks and
roots and into the ATV. He kissed her and told her it will take him awhile to
catch up, but that he’ll see her in-town in about 4-5 hours. One of the rescuers, turned driver, slowly
and carefully pulled away, trying to keep her back pain to a minimum.
As they disappeared from
view, he and the other rescuer turned and headed back to camp to retrieve their
belongings. The rescuer insisted on carrying the bulk of the load, perhaps concerned
that the husband may injure himself due to being distracted with worry.
They walked up the trail,
burdened with their heavy loads, and then overland to the ridge line.
Adrenaline and the desire to get back to town as soon as possible gave him the
strength to move on, for he felt no fatigue or weariness.
At the ridge, the same herd
of bighorn sheep, seen earlier in the day, looked on. Their lack of concern and
disinterest hadn’t changed. He hoped that maybe at least one of the animals would
show him some sympathy for their plight.
A pick-up truck and other
rescuers had driven up a rutted mountain road to meet them halfway. Relief
washed over him. He will get to town quicker than first thought. He broke down
and began to sob. He still didn’t know for sure that she would be okay. The
rescuers tried to console him. They assured him that all will be well. One said
that he had been in contact with the hospital back in town and that she was
alert and responsive.
It wasn’t until mid-evening
that he finally arrived at the hospital. He expressed his love and concern at
her bedside. The doctors did not know what caused the seizure and said that it was
not that uncommon of an occurrence for middle-aged adults. Whether or not this
could ever happen again was unknown.
Not knowing what the future
will bring was of great concern. The unknown of how this will impact the life
they’ve worked so hard to build dominated their thoughts. For now they have no
other choice but to draw on the strength and determination each give to the
other.
Because, that’s what best
friends do.
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