The second and third peaks were taunting me (we can see them from our house) so I thought it’d be fun to have my mom watch the kids and Ben and I could tackle the hike in its entirety. We got up early and headed out. Surprisingly the hike seemed more strenuous without a toddler on my back but I’m certainly glad the kids weren’t with us because the events that unfolded after we reached the summit would have been tragic and almost were nevertheless. The children almost lost their mother.
Ben was enjoying the view from the first peak and since I had been there two days before I decided to go ahead so that I wasn’t holding Ben up. I was trekking along steadily when all of the sudden the ground below me seemed to disappear and I was falling – fast. I was sliding and screamed out for Ben while trying to grasp at anything to stop me from a non-stop plunge 1,700 feet down. Following a 10 foot slide I went over a drop-off and kept sliding, silently this time and not knowing when or if I would stop. Luckily, I hit a tree.
Ben, just hearing the scream, the fall and a thud, thought that at best I was unconscious. I finally mustered an “I’m okay” and was faced with a new, not less scary dilemma- how to get back up to the trail. Going back up the way I came was out of the question and I would be lucky to get anywhere without sliding further. Not to mention I had sustained some bloody injuries (see exhibit a). I did find a way out and with help returned to the trail. We decided to continue and cautiously made our way to the second peak and were rewarded with an incredible view of the entire Windward coast, and that’s where our journey ended. Reaching the third peak entailed swinging on a rope over a 400 ft drop and we weren’t feeling super confident or as excited about the risks involved, so we turned back. On the way up we had been chatting happily about our hopes and dreams for the future and on the way back we were quieter, bodies limp after the adrenaline wore off but happy to be walking out together. Even portions of the trail that I had quickly traversed with a baby in tow two days before, suddenly seemed like an accident waiting to happen.
But I’m not out of the woods yet. Having a personal doc to assess my injuries he starts rattling off a list of scary sounding conditions that could arise from my abrasions and when I question the possibility of one of those actually happening he replies that he’s seen multiple deaths and amputated multiple legs this year from similar things. So looks like I’m not out of the woods yet, folks.
Ben was enjoying the view from the first peak and since I had been there two days before I decided to go ahead so that I wasn’t holding Ben up. I was trekking along steadily when all of the sudden the ground below me seemed to disappear and I was falling – fast. I was sliding and screamed out for Ben while trying to grasp at anything to stop me from a non-stop plunge 1,700 feet down. Following a 10 foot slide I went over a drop-off and kept sliding, silently this time and not knowing when or if I would stop. Luckily, I hit a tree.
Ben, just hearing the scream, the fall and a thud, thought that at best I was unconscious. I finally mustered an “I’m okay” and was faced with a new, not less scary dilemma- how to get back up to the trail. Going back up the way I came was out of the question and I would be lucky to get anywhere without sliding further. Not to mention I had sustained some bloody injuries (see exhibit a). I did find a way out and with help returned to the trail. We decided to continue and cautiously made our way to the second peak and were rewarded with an incredible view of the entire Windward coast, and that’s where our journey ended. Reaching the third peak entailed swinging on a rope over a 400 ft drop and we weren’t feeling super confident or as excited about the risks involved, so we turned back. On the way up we had been chatting happily about our hopes and dreams for the future and on the way back we were quieter, bodies limp after the adrenaline wore off but happy to be walking out together. Even portions of the trail that I had quickly traversed with a baby in tow two days before, suddenly seemed like an accident waiting to happen.
But I’m not out of the woods yet. Having a personal doc to assess my injuries he starts rattling off a list of scary sounding conditions that could arise from my abrasions and when I question the possibility of one of those actually happening he replies that he’s seen multiple deaths and amputated multiple legs this year from similar things. So looks like I’m not out of the woods yet, folks.
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Exhibit A - We wern't too concerned about getting them in focus at the time and chances are we were both shaking anyway.
15 comments:
We're glad you sustained only minor injuries and were able to walk out on your own. Keep safe and good luck with the move.
Thank heaven for strategically placed trees. That adrenaline rush is such a strange, but draining experience. I am impressed that you had enough in you to make it back home.
oh my gosh! that must have been so scary. i'm so glad you're okay...and that you didn't have the kids with you.
Yikes!
So glad you're okay! So beautiful out there. We're jealous!
I just read a story on another blog about a trecherous Hawaiian hike! What gives? I was on the edge of my seat reading that! I'm glad you made it down safe enough to blog about it:).
you need to write a book, maybe it can be entitled "over the edge" or "did i fall? or was i pushed?" something catchy. i miss hawaii.
Maybe this happened so you wouldn't feel as bad about leaving Hawaii?? I was oohing and aaahing as I read your post. Thanks for the pictures, I imagined your injuries far worse...I'm glad they weren't. Hope you recover well and that you don't suffer from any of the maladies that Ben described in graphic detail.
Wow, that is quite the story! I am very glad you are safe & sound with minor injuries.
I wasn't sure if you would see my comment, on your ice cream post so I wanted to write here. My brother-in-law works for Dreyers here in Salt Lake and he said that the cost of butter-fat has gone up, therefore, our tubs have gotten smaller. (Don't worry, I share your frustration and made sure he knew...though he assured me there was nothing he could do. Not even family! :)
Hope everything goes well with your move!
Well, that's it for me. I'll add not ever climbing dangerous mountains to things not to bother with. If Lynn can get stuck, I'm toast! Good luck with the healing.
You are crazy lady!! It cracked me up that you nearly fell off hte cliff and then just continued on. I wouldn't expect any less from you. Man, I miss that place. Dave and I moan almost every day, especially now that it is 95 and super humid and we can't go to the beach. AGGGGGGGGGGGG
What a story! I am glad you are okay.
Woah, Lynn, I'm so glad you hit that tree! I can't even imagine the alternative. What a blessing you were okay.
WoW! What and eye opener! We're all so glad that you're safe! Take care of your leg, I'm sure there's many more races for you to run.:)
Oh my gosh! That story is insane!I'm glad you're okay. I'm just speechless and glad you're okay.
How many days left in Hawaii?
oh man! I went up to the westbrooks for the dad's dinner and I heard about your near death experience. As soon as i got home I checked your blog and reading this just made my heart sink!! So glad you're alright!!!.... I don't think you let on how bad that really was- Hope to see you soon!! and I can't believe you guys kept going!!
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