As a twenty year old I was living in the Washington DC area with
my parents. I was recovering from a concussion and was out of school
for the year. With time and many doctor visits I finally was feeling
better and longed to be in the mountains. Things had not been going
very well for me and I really needed something to make me feel
better, hiking was my choice.
The only close mountains to the area were the Shenandoahs, located
about a hundred miles west. It was winter but I talked my father
into taking me to the park and dropping me off to camp and hike
for a week. The doctors would not let me drive yet and probably
would not let me hike if we had asked.
Staying at Big Meadows I was the only camper in the large campground.
It had snowed recently and the ranger offered that the other campers
left because of the harsh conditions. He was really wondering what
I was doing there and where my vehicle was; but I didn’t explain.
It was fun being in the mountains again. Though I was visiting
the Park in a limited fashion, by staying in an improved campground,
there was no one else camping. I had pretty good equipment for
the day in a down bag, mountaineering tent, and good wool and down
clothing, making it possible for me to be comfortable in the difficult
conditions.
Sitting in the tent at night I read the map by the dim glow of
the candle lantern planning my visit to the park. The next morning
I would explore the Big Meadows area and eventually hike south
to Lewis Springs Falls.
Morning arrived with an oatmeal and hot chocolate breakfast.
After cleaning the dishes I packed for the day. I really didn’t
have a schedule but I had to get moving because it was too cold
to sit and do nothing.
The trails were snowy and icy in spots but I was careful as I
hiked around exploring. It did not take long to realize that none
of the visitors’ concessions were open at that time of the year.
To the best of my knowledge I was the only person in the area.
I could run naked through the woods and no one would know, but
who wanted to freeze to death.
Hiking to Lewis Springs was easy. I was going to do a loop trail
but decided to walk there and back mostly on the famous Appalachian
Trail instead. Dreams of being a thru-hiker danced in my head as
I walked the mile stretch of the trail. The hike went well and
I decided that I was ready for the next day’s hike to Hawksbill
Mountain, about four miles distance one way.
After returning to camp I had to go for water about a half mile
away. I did not have a large container so the water fetching would
be an ongoing task. On my exploring earlier in the day I found
a heated restroom with water. No other sources for water seemed
obvious, but I don’t think the rangers were worried about pleasing
me, the only person in camp. There was probably a secret weather
proofed faucet somewhere, but I wasn’t really concerned after I
had found the heated restroom.
My life camping was simple, do what was necessary to stay warm.
I would eat, hike, or go to the tent. Campfires were not important
to me. I cooked on a small camp stove and had learned to live without
a fire.
Day two started as a repeat of day one, but I had a sense of
anticipation wrapped around my scheduled hike. I knew that hiking
alone in the winter was probably not the safest thing for me to
do. I also knew that my balance was still disturbed and the doctors
had absolutely forbid me from even bumping my head, but my spirit
was strong and I was going to be careful.
With a daypack filled with essentials I began the day’s journey.
Hawksbill was just a short hike but still was more of a challenge
than the previous day. The hike was uneventful. It seemed like
I was the only person on the trail that day and I very well could
have been. I saw no signs of life. It was cold and brisk with ice
or snow covering most of the Appalachian Trail. In my heavy mountaineering
boots I plodded carefully toward my destination.
I decided to detour off of the trail a short distance to visit
a Potomac Appalachian Trail Club cabin located to the west of the
trail. The cabin was locked but had a wonderful porch built facing
south which blocked the wind and basked in the winter sun’s rays.
Though not planning to break I soon was relaxing in the rustic
comfort of the porch. After an hour passed I finally decided to
get moving, either to continue up Hawksbill or return to camp.
Regaining the AT I opted to head north again toward the mountain.
A short distance led to a spur trail which directed me to the summit,
a little less than a mile away. The stiff breeze made me long for
the cabin’s front porch. The black ice over the rocky trail slowed
my progress and lengthened my traveling time in the wind. I shivered
my way to the summit.
There was no joy of accomplishment on reaching the highest point,
it was too cold. I was already wearing all of my clothes, so I
turned and retreated. Going down the trail was a difficult trek.
Slowly I picked my way down the trail. The temperature was still
registering in the cold range but at least the wind was at my back.
Walking down the spur trail took longer than going up it. I knew
that I could not fall and carefully transited the icy trail. I
was alone and there was no room for any mistakes. It could be a
few days before another hiker was dumb enough to hike the spur
trail and my shiver would have stopped for good by then.
Finally I reached the main trail again. All was good. It was
warmer in the protection of the forest. I had less than three miles
to walk back to camp and it was still early in the afternoon.
With a relaxed gait I passed the trail to the cabin and continued
toward the campground. The sun called longingly. Then, it happened.
Ice covered a downward sloping rock and as my left boot landed
it slid out from under me and I fell unabated forward onto the
waiting rocky path.
When I came to my head had a huge bump and open wound over my
left eyebrow. The cold or my thick blood helped to stop the leaking
fluid. I sat up, light headed but fine. Doing a quick triage, the
right knee of my pants was torn and stained with blood, my leg
was sore and my hands were sore. Everything seemed minor compared
to what the results might have been.
Drawing on my first aid kit, I did a clean up job of my open
wounds. I used gauze and tape on my knee (referred to as Knee)
and a large band aid for my head. I was sure I was going to live,
but needed to get back to camp. I was cold.
Knee was stiffer than expected as I tried to stand. Carefully
I began moving, hoping the stiffness would work it’s way out. A
great deal of effort went into each step, and Knee informed me
of its pain with each movement. I was not moving fast enough to
generate heat and was growing colder by the minute. Off the trail
in the brush was a suitable walking stick and with it’s use and
the favoring of my left leg, I was finally able to increase my
speed. Each step hurt, but I was alone and it would be spring before
anyone found me dead on the deserted trail. I had no choice but
to keep moving, as any form of rescue was impossible. I just had
to deal with the pain.
I was less than three miles to the campground where I fell, but
the short hike became an endless nightmare on my return. I had
to keep moving. I tried to walk faster but Knee complained quickly
and showed me how he felt by releasing agonizing jolts of pain.
The sun decided to hide behind winter clouds increasing my chill
and need for speed. My mind wandered in and out similar to an out
of the body experience.
Uncontrollably shivering I continued limping toward camp. After
much experimentation I discovered a suitable gait. My left leg
did the bulk of the work and as I weighted Knee, the staff I had
found eased its load. I anticipated and received the familiar pain
with each stride. Life was good. I was moving.
It was dark before I waddled into camp, a tired, cold, hurt boy.
I fell into the tent and wrapped myself in the down bag. After
a long shivering period of unrest I sat up removed my boots and
ate partially frozen fig bars. The food and water seemed to help
my chills and soon I was laying motionless in a comatose state.
Morning brought the obvious needs of tending to my physical pains.
I wanted to go to the heated restroom to inspect my head bump further,
but was too stiff to walk that far. Knee only wanted to rest. I
was going to have to work out a compromise with Knee because I
had to visit a nearby tree. One of the advantages of camping in
a deserted campground is that it is deserted! Knee wasn’t happy
with the movement, but my kidneys insisted.
Hobbling back to the tent, I decided that Knee worked some of
the stiffness out in the brief excursion. Crawling back into the
tent I decided I would try to walk to the restroom, but I would
wait until the warmth of the day.
Reading an epic Michener novel, I spent the morning resting.
As the tent warmed in the noon’s high rays, I began to prepare
for the short half mile hike. Luckily I had a three inch wide elastic
bandage in my large first aid kit. With great care I wrapped and
rewrapped Knee until I found the correct tension to deliver optimal
support. I put on running shoes instead of boots, and stood up
out of the tent stiff legged. With staff in hand I made way toward
the heated restrooms carrying a back of empty water containers.
The walking was easier than expected and soon I developed a rhythm
that worked. Wrapping Knee was probably the key to my improvement,
but regardless of the remedy, I was just happy that I was moving
mostly pain free.
In the restroom I took a sponge bath in the sink. I knew they
did not have hot water, so I brought a thermos full that worked
nicely. The knot on my head was still visible - the best I could
tell by viewing it in the stainless steel mirror; but the bump
didn’t seem to be a medical emergency. I showed no signs of further
brain damage. Knee also seemed to be improving better than expected.
There was no swelling and little soreness. A hope came over me.
I had been depressed thinking that I was going to spend the rest
of the week tent bound, but after the examination I realized I
was back in the game. I was going to be able to hike.
After I finished washing and cleaning up the restroom, I started
back to camp. I was very optimistic as I resumed my gait. Left
leg weighted, staff on the right side planted, gently weight my
right leg, quickly move my left leg forward, and repeat. Knee was
moving effortlessly, but suddenly my left knee (Kknee) began to
hurt. Perplexed I tried to understand the source of the pain. Maybe
it was the extra weight of my pack heavy with filled water containers
or possibly a shift with my foot placements twisted Kknee, but
regardless - Kknee hurt.
As I crept along I tried to weight both knees evenly. Knee was
feeling better even with the additional weight but Kknee was hurting
more. Kknee was demanding attention and voiced it with a ‘ping’
sound accompanied by pain. I moved my staff from the right side
to the left and tried to use it to further unweight Kknee. My movement
was painfully slow, but I had nothing else to do. I decided that
moving slow was better than not moving and I continued to limp
along. The strategy seemed to work and I was able to make my way
to camp.
Back at camp I left the pack filled with water bottles outside the door
of the tent and I flopped inside the tent exhausted. Looking at my knees
I reasoned, ‘Knee was hurt in the fall, but was no longer hurting. Kknee
began hurting with a ‘ping’ noise on every step. I would wrap Kknee with
the elastic bandage!’
With all the care I had taken wrapping Knee, I was now applying to Kknee.
Wrapped and secured I decided to move out of the tent for a test drive. With
care I stood, grabbed my staff and started a walking tour of the large empty
campground. Knee was preforming like he had never been injured and Kknee
with the added support, quietly moved along. I decided that the added weight
of the water I was carrying probably had something to do with injuring Kknee.
Touring the campground I looked for the ‘best sites’, just in case I ever
came back to the camp. The walk went well but then for no reason at all,
Knee popped and then continued popping with every step. Pain ensued. Quickly
I shifted my weight and allowed Kknee to be favored and used the staff on
my right side to help Knee. It was back to slowness again. The good news
was the Kknee was painless and quiet.
I made it back to camp, relieved myself, and crawled back into the tent.
Laying back I read for the rest of the afternoon. Time passed slowly and
I occasionally stopped reading to refigure my walking strategy. I finally
realized both knees were injured, it was going to be another five days until
my father came to pick me up, and my book was long enough to be holed up
in the tent for five days. Without dinner I drifted off to sleep.
As I crawled out of the tent the next morning, the sun was barely peaking
out of the clouds on the horizon. I had gone to bed early and then woke early
in the morning. Both knees ached and neither wanted to support my weight.
Forced to move Knee popped and Kknee pinged as I waddled stiff legged to
relieve my bladder. Back in the tent I felt it was time to attempt to soothe
both knees’ pains. The problem was I didn’t have enough tape to wrap a knee
for support and I only had one elastic bandage. Prodding each knee I was
unable to determine which knee hurt the most and most deserving of the bandage.
Both knees felt they needed the elastic bandage the most. It was decision
time.
Following the wisdom of Solomon, I held the elastic bandage out before
my knees and threatened to cut it in half with my trusty Swiss Army Knife.
I thought that perhaps one knee might rescind its demand for the whole bandage;
but neither budged. Dividing the elastic bandage in half I drew the knife.
Holding steadfast to their claims of need, forced me to carry out my threat.
Unlike the famous Biblical King, I could not decide who needed the bandage
the most and therefore had to cut the poor three inch wide elastic bandage
in half.
Wrapping each knee with half of a bandage, I stood and tried to walk. Knee
immediately popped and shot a pain up my right leg and Kknee seemed to wait
for a few steps until it answered Knee’s complaint. The poor bisected bandage
was too weak to support either knee. Leaving the knees to ping and pop the
music of a dirge as I marched back to the tent.
My decision to half the bandage left two noisy hurting knees instead of
just one. I had to admit that I made the wrong decision. One good leg would
be better than none.
My noisy knees hurt unmercifully for the rest of the week confining me
to the tent. I still tried various wrapping and walking techniques searching
for an answer to the pain. My optimism never failed but I had to give up
on hiking. Instead, I finished the Michener novel and spent hours thinking
of possible remedies to ease the pain. It seemed that my knees had temporarily
won, but I still had a good time dreaming about the trail, thru-hiking and
wheelchairs.