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One of the joys of hiking is experiencing the forest and the trees and the mountains and the lakes and the streams. Often on rough terrain we must scamper over fallen branches. But this hike the branches came in handy in another way.
Snap.
That wasn’t a branch. That was Pablo’s ankle. And that was not good.
The hike had been long and adventurous up to the mountain lakes outside El Chalten in Patagonia. The views were tremendous, the hike tiring but exhilarating, the glaciers immense. We were almost back to where we had left the car nine or ten hours ago. The path at this point was smooth and relatively flat. But one slip and the ankle was snapped like an old branch.
As the night fell and the temperatures plummeted we knew we needed to get him out of there. Hopping with us supporting him went nowhere fast as the uneven ground quickly made that idea unrealistic. The next option was to gather suitable branches to make a splint, which worked well to immobilize the ankle. Branches for makeshift crutches didn’t work so well and in the end one of us ran (carefully) the remaining few kilometers to a hostel near the car.
Three hours later Pablo was being stretchered out of the woods to a waiting ambulance. The branches had done their job keeping the leg from getting worse; now it would take a series of surgeons to put it back together again.
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Hot White Snow 
Kid showed up (with his parents) at my front door once. Kid’s ankle was snapped. Everyone was (understandably) freaked out. Lee (my then husband), answered the door, took one look, and then stood aside. We had him immobilized, the ambulance called, Lee set up outdoor lights for the paramedics to work, and everyone could calm down, which I think helped a great deal.
Sometimes, when you’re in crisis, someone just taking charge can really help.
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Luckily his 17 year old daughter, who was there with us on the hike, was a trainee firefighter. She got some on-the-fly experience and did a fantastic job.
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Some injuries are painful and one can work it out.
Others put one into a state of yearning for outside help.
One of my fondest memories is how turning my ankle playing basketball resulted in an adventure of Creek Sitting. That was a new experience for me. But you get lawn chairs and a supply of accoutrements and sit in a mountain creek for the afternoon while chilling ones feet.
That clearly would not be an option for a fracture.
To hear something pop is a dismal feeling.
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Interesting. Never heard of “creek sitting,” though I suppose it’s the best way to get cold on an ankle out in the wilds.
When this happened we at first thought about working our way out since we only had a few kilometers to go on mostly flat-ish ground, but it took a half hour to go about 20 yards, so that idea wasn’t going to work. In the end we had to send for EMTs, one of whom turned out to be one of Pablo’s former students.
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I’ve heard of a variation on the theme of cold water being used as an incidental pre-evacuation treatment for a spinal injury.
I empathize deeply with Pablo. First hand, I can say that ankles are one of those evolutionarily-kludged designs that, once injured, are never quite the same again. Most recently, I fractured the lower extremity of the fibula associated with the same previously fractured ankle. At least I’ve so far avoided surgery, which usually involves some degree of fusion.
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The irony is that Pablo had been reminding us incessantly during the day to be careful. We reminded him of that during the x-ray.
Hope your ankle/leg holds up with all your adventurous activities.
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I can empathize with that, as well. Commented while driving one evening (my husbands car, no less) how important it is to watch for deer in the waning light. Only took about five minutes to prove the point.
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Deer are like that. Always trying to prove you wrong.
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I boy scouts we used to practice making a stretcher out of two young trees and a blanket. However it is one thing to carry a kid in such a contraption and another to carry an adult. But not many folks carry hatchets or blankets around as standard gear nowadays.
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Skis are the preferred “sticks” around here during this time of year. Older “Randonee” skis used to have large, grommetted holes through the tips to facilitate ropes for their being used as an improvised sled.
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My old boy scout merit badges didn’t seem to come in handy during this incident. Pablo’s 17 year old daughter, however, was training as a volunteer firemen so she was all “take charge” (when her control freak father let her).
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