Hiking Adventure
Mountains raise my blood pressure – in a good way. The night before I often can’t sleep on account of excitement, and this one lived up to all expectations. We started talking about Katahdin before the family reunion -- no, back in 1999 when hiked up the Abol trail and looked longingly down the Knife Edge trail, then turned to descend down the trail we had come up on. “Some day I want to hike that trail,” I muttered. July 15, 2008 that hope was realized – a kind of celebration of my father’s birthday – he would have been 84 the day before.
At the LaClair family reunion on the 13th of July, we found out my cousin John and his companion, Cindy had hiked it days before, and we found out my second cousin, Teresa Bradburn and her husband Kevin Wright were planning on hiking it. We all talked Katahdin, what to wear, which directions to take on what trails, how long it would take, etc., etc. David did some research on the internet and noted the comments posted. But it all came down to us four who were hiking it together on the 15th. Teresa has had four knee surgeries. David protects a weak knee also. It would be their call, but I weighed in with, “take the most aggressive hike up, and the knife edge down.” In the end it was decided to take Chimney Pond to Cathedral up and Knife Edge to Helon Taylor down, roughly 10 miles round trip, not really very long, but rigorous.
Pictures will attest that when we finally got to the Cathedral Trail we went up, boulder to boulder, hand over hand. It was fun; the steeper, the better, and we had the trail mostly to ourselves. Clouds played along the top edges of the ridges, and so we didn’t hurry. We hoped our 6:30 AM start would not be too early -- that we would have some open views when we reached the summit. About 11:30 we checked the time. Folks in offices were not yet on their lunch breaks, and we were at the top of the world (in Maine). My silent prayer for safety was half realized. Time to sit and look off and consider the strength and majesty of this giant tumble of rocks and the fragility of us little people crawling around on its’ shoulders. It would be here for years uncompromising to the seasons passing; some of us would not.
The great aspect of this hike was that there was to be no let down in the descent. There was still the knife edge trail – ragged, rugged, and narrow, dropping off on both sides precipitously, and then the ridge down. We went slowly – there was no other way to go. The Canadian women ahead of us were keeping all four on the rocks, and there was no passing lane. It was good- all good, and when we reached Panola, the last peak on the knife edge, there was deep satisfaction. The rest of the way was “a walk in the park” in comparison. I relaxed. Never do that. Two and a half miles from the parking lot, I slipped on some loose gravel and broke my fall with my left wrist. When I picked my hand up, my wrist was is an odd position, and pain was rushing into it as it swelled before my eyes. “Oh, no,” was all I could say. I sat for a few minutes, sinking deep within myself, and waiting for some “solution” to emerge from among the four of us. I could hear Kevin’s clear voice, “….That needs an x-ray…I broke both my wrists at the same time…ibuprophen and ice.” I had ibuprophen in my pack and Kevin got it out for me. I heard David’s voice talking about a splint, then settling on a sling. I knew time was ticking away, and I needed to get up and move off. There was no solution but to walk down the mountain. Kevin took my pack, Teresa took his, David made the sling, offered to go in front and to lend a pole, but I needed my full concentration and to see the ground.
It’s interesting to watch the thoughts go through your head in a situation like that. All was quiet behind me. The hike’s euphoria had dissipated quickly. We were each in our own thoughts. My went like this, “ Maybe it is not so bad…but if it is broken, the pain could get pretty bad….Father, will you help to keep the pain manageable and help me to not do any further damage?...Hmmm, I asked for your protection, what happened? I know you have permitted this…. help me to bear this well….no swimming….this is the height of summer…one more step….easy now, just go easy…I hope this doesn’t ruin the hike for Teresa and Kevin…what if this had of happened on the knife edge…I need to get my arm in cold water, how far is that brook…” And then there was just grim silence and step after step. I wonder what the others were thinking. Teresa was dealing with her own pain I’m sure, and I became her sister in the last mile of the hike.
The pain did not become unmanageable until the dead of night, well after the emergency nurse practitioner at Millinocket Regional Hospital had looked at the x-ray, announced a fracture in both the ulner and radius, and splinted me up. It was not really unmanageable, just too much for regular doses of Advil to keep up with.
When something like this happens, there can be all kinds of second guessing. No so for me. I have no regrets. I read in my little books that our afflictions do not “spring out of the ground” and if received in faith, good learning is possible. I’m going for that. This next few weeks will be another kind of challenge, but not so different really from the trail on the knife edge.
Mountains raise my blood pressure – in a good way. The night before I often can’t sleep on account of excitement, and this one lived up to all expectations. We started talking about Katahdin before the family reunion -- no, back in 1999 when hiked up the Abol trail and looked longingly down the Knife Edge trail, then turned to descend down the trail we had come up on. “Some day I want to hike that trail,” I muttered. July 15, 2008 that hope was realized – a kind of celebration of my father’s birthday – he would have been 84 the day before.
At the LaClair family reunion on the 13th of July, we found out my cousin John and his companion, Cindy had hiked it days before, and we found out my second cousin, Teresa Bradburn and her husband Kevin Wright were planning on hiking it. We all talked Katahdin, what to wear, which directions to take on what trails, how long it would take, etc., etc. David did some research on the internet and noted the comments posted. But it all came down to us four who were hiking it together on the 15th. Teresa has had four knee surgeries. David protects a weak knee also. It would be their call, but I weighed in with, “take the most aggressive hike up, and the knife edge down.” In the end it was decided to take Chimney Pond to Cathedral up and Knife Edge to Helon Taylor down, roughly 10 miles round trip, not really very long, but rigorous.
Pictures will attest that when we finally got to the Cathedral Trail we went up, boulder to boulder, hand over hand. It was fun; the steeper, the better, and we had the trail mostly to ourselves. Clouds played along the top edges of the ridges, and so we didn’t hurry. We hoped our 6:30 AM start would not be too early -- that we would have some open views when we reached the summit. About 11:30 we checked the time. Folks in offices were not yet on their lunch breaks, and we were at the top of the world (in Maine). My silent prayer for safety was half realized. Time to sit and look off and consider the strength and majesty of this giant tumble of rocks and the fragility of us little people crawling around on its’ shoulders. It would be here for years uncompromising to the seasons passing; some of us would not.
The great aspect of this hike was that there was to be no let down in the descent. There was still the knife edge trail – ragged, rugged, and narrow, dropping off on both sides precipitously, and then the ridge down. We went slowly – there was no other way to go. The Canadian women ahead of us were keeping all four on the rocks, and there was no passing lane. It was good- all good, and when we reached Panola, the last peak on the knife edge, there was deep satisfaction. The rest of the way was “a walk in the park” in comparison. I relaxed. Never do that. Two and a half miles from the parking lot, I slipped on some loose gravel and broke my fall with my left wrist. When I picked my hand up, my wrist was is an odd position, and pain was rushing into it as it swelled before my eyes. “Oh, no,” was all I could say. I sat for a few minutes, sinking deep within myself, and waiting for some “solution” to emerge from among the four of us. I could hear Kevin’s clear voice, “….That needs an x-ray…I broke both my wrists at the same time…ibuprophen and ice.” I had ibuprophen in my pack and Kevin got it out for me. I heard David’s voice talking about a splint, then settling on a sling. I knew time was ticking away, and I needed to get up and move off. There was no solution but to walk down the mountain. Kevin took my pack, Teresa took his, David made the sling, offered to go in front and to lend a pole, but I needed my full concentration and to see the ground.
It’s interesting to watch the thoughts go through your head in a situation like that. All was quiet behind me. The hike’s euphoria had dissipated quickly. We were each in our own thoughts. My went like this, “ Maybe it is not so bad…but if it is broken, the pain could get pretty bad….Father, will you help to keep the pain manageable and help me to not do any further damage?...Hmmm, I asked for your protection, what happened? I know you have permitted this…. help me to bear this well….no swimming….this is the height of summer…one more step….easy now, just go easy…I hope this doesn’t ruin the hike for Teresa and Kevin…what if this had of happened on the knife edge…I need to get my arm in cold water, how far is that brook…” And then there was just grim silence and step after step. I wonder what the others were thinking. Teresa was dealing with her own pain I’m sure, and I became her sister in the last mile of the hike.
The pain did not become unmanageable until the dead of night, well after the emergency nurse practitioner at Millinocket Regional Hospital had looked at the x-ray, announced a fracture in both the ulner and radius, and splinted me up. It was not really unmanageable, just too much for regular doses of Advil to keep up with.
When something like this happens, there can be all kinds of second guessing. No so for me. I have no regrets. I read in my little books that our afflictions do not “spring out of the ground” and if received in faith, good learning is possible. I’m going for that. This next few weeks will be another kind of challenge, but not so different really from the trail on the knife edge.
1 comment:
How's your poor, sore arm doing now? Better, I hope!
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