
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.
