A beautiful day to be stranded in the bush

In retrospect, I was walking way too fast down that steep hill at the end of August.

If you happened to read my last column, you may recall that I was tootling back to Camp Manitou after a wonderful day of hiking, paddling and swimming. I needed to be back by 3 p.m. to begin cooking supper for the campers.

At 2:15, I was most of the way back, with just a half hour hike to go. I knew I had lots of time to get back. I didn’t have to walk all that fast.

Such a beautiful day! After two days of rain it felt so good to be out, briskly walking along the wide path through the forest. Oak trees towering above, wet oak leaves below — though I didn’t so much notice the wet leaves on the ground until they let go under my left foot.

I heard a loud crack as I fell. My first thought was, there were no sticks on the trail. Oh oh. I kept still there on the ground, took a moment to catch my breath, and thought, “Did anything hurt?” No more than expected from a fall. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, I rolled over. The forest above beautiful as ever. Carefully, I sat up. It didn’t look good. My left foot was kind of floppy. No, not good at all.

Yes, I was hiking alone. I hike alone most of the time. No, I didn’t have a cellphone. The battery was low, so I’d left it behind. These things happen when you live off-grid.

What to do? I was very relieved that it did not hurt very much, so long as I didn’t touch my ankle. I looked around for a stick that maybe I could use to hobble back. But, with a floppy foot, it wasn’t likely I’d even be able to hobble. 

Not being one to just sit and wait for help, I decided to try crawling back. A ridiculous idea, really. A half-hour brisk walk translated to crawling would mean several hours. Still, I crawled to the bottom of the hill, foot dangling above and behind. That was dumb. Could it be doing more harm?

I finally gave in to my fate as I crawled over a log on the trail. It was a nice place to sit.  It was encouraging to be able to wriggle my toes. All the swelling was centered on the ankle. I held on to hope that it was a bad sprain, or maybe a dislocation. I knew nothing of the medical possibilities. I’d never been hurt like this before.

I did know that rescue would come in an hour or two. I settled in as best I could. Looked at my foot, wriggled my toes. I lay down on the ground with the log for a pillow. I admired the stillness of the forest, the pale grey of thin clouds I could barely see through the thick canopy of oaks. The calmness of the land soaked into me.

Epilogue. The rescuers arrived at 4:15. Two strong young men took turns with me on piggyback. A crew with a stretcher met us half way back, then the tractor met us where the trail got wide enough.

By the time we got to the kitchen, dinner was made! One of my rescuers made a take-out package for me, then we carried on to the boat. Bit of a rough ride out, then met by a friend at the dock. Surgery came two days later — two screws in the tibia and a plate on the fibula.

Hope to be walking by the end of October!

Viki Mather has been commenting for Northern Life on the natural world and life in Greater Sudbury since the spring of 1984.