When I Didn’t Respect the Trail

The trail was washed out so we followed a gorgeous riverbed. No worries, we were sure-footed….

A couple of years ago I learned a valuable lesson about respecting the trail and being prepared no matter how small the challenge. I had traveled to Buffalo, New York for a science conference and while there a friend and I embarked on a spontaneous hike to the Eternal Flame. The flame was only half a mile from the trailhead and we were from Colorado so my flip-flops were more than enough for this barely-counts-as-a-hike trail. After all, they were Nike flops (Amazon) that held up to various camping trips.

Off we went down the trail, jackets and water in the rental car. We wound along a muddy riverbed, my friend slipping at one point, but she caught herself with one hand- looking like a skateboarder atop a half-pipe. This was no big deal. Eventually we arrived at a sloping rock face that rose about 20 feet high with water trickling over its surface. In the center, framed by the shadow of a cavern, was a flame. Fire right behind water… at equilibrium… in the middle of nature!

I grabbed my phone and climbed the side rocks for a vantage point. They were slick, but I felt sure-footed. This was a place of earth, sky, water, and fire and I needed a souvenir. The video pans across the scene, tracing a tree trunk protruding out of the rock, and across the waterfall. Then it blurs. Greens and browns streak across the screen, settling on my leg.

Fire and water. In my efforts to get a better photo, I slipped and never did get that souvenir shot that I wanted.

My foot had slipped and down I fell. Anyone who has fallen downhill on a snowboarded knows how quickly the ground can smack the back of your head. Luckily, I had enough Krav Maga training to automatically tuck my chin in time. But my landing wasn’t perfect. Instead of landing on my back with my arms out, I landed on my elbow. Lifting my elbow to my eyeline, beneath the split skin, I saw white. It took a second for the blood to come, but when it did, it did not stop. I patted my person trying to find anything useful. Eventually I settled for my shirt.

“It would sure be nice to wash away the dirt,” but I left my water bottle in the car. I was next to a waterfall, but having lived in Colorado for most of my life I knew that even clear water could make you sick. In Colorado, the mountain waters often contain giardia, small parasites that cause digestive issues unless the water is boiled or sipped through a Life Straw (Amazon). I had no idea if upper New York had its own giardia-like microbes lurking in the water so I thought it best to not pour it into an open wound.

“It would sure be nice to stop the bleeding with a bandage,” but I didn’t have a band-aid, much less gauze. Any fabric could have done the trick, but I left my jacket in the car. I didn’t even have a bandana.

“It would sure be nice if I, or my friend had brought anything remotely useful,” but we were Coloradoans and this was “barely a hike”.

Letting my arm hang by my side made the blood flow more so I resigned to walking back to the car with my fingers wrapped around the back of my neck and my elbow thrust into the air like the hot guy in a rom com trying to look bashful. You know the guy.

The return trip felt much longer as I scampered along the muddy stream bed with one less appendage. I felt lightheaded and queasy. Bleeding out was not a realistic concern, yet seeing my own blood drip from my elbow and onto the ground did a number on my psyche.

Kind strangers on the trail lent water and a cloth to wash out the bigger bits of debris, but I was picking out tiny rocks all the way to Urgent Care. As for my souvenir, I will always remember this trip (and lesson) by the scar on my elbow.

As luck would have it, I met three retired nurses heading up the trail, each with a 20lb pack. This was only a half mile trail with little elevation gain, who needed that much stuff? Me. I needed that stuff.

After a brief plea, they lent me (1) water to wash my wound, (2) an antiseptic wipe to provide some protection, and (3) butterfly bandages to pull the skin together. Butterfly bandages are incredible. I was always skeptical of the little band-aids you get after a blood draw- seriously; they don’t soak up much blood and it cannot protect the site from dirt except from a direct strike. I like to carry the waterproof bandages (Amazon) that seal all the way around and now butterfly bandages (Amazon).

This story has a good ending- we made it back to the car and my friend dropped me off at a local urgent care. But, it could have been much worse. I could have split my head instead of my elbow. I could have been miles from the car. I may not have met kind strangers on the trail.

For what I did right: I came prepared with skills. I have trained in the art of falling. I also know how to prevent and treat injuries; unfortunately, this knowledge does little good without the right equipment. If I had to do it again, I would have worn better shoes and brought a pack of supplies that included water and a first aid kit. Most importantly, I would have respected the trail.

As for my souvenir, I have a scar on my elbow to remind me of the wonderful site and this lesson.

Check back in for tips on packing for an impromptu hike while on a work trip and for tips on how to fall.