When the rock hits the head – Long trail, day six

Day six, Thursday, August 21

Cross Route 30 to Big Branch Shelter.

Distance: 16.5 miles (74.2 miles total).

Wild ride back to the trail

I turned off the alarm at 5:45 am and paid my CenturyLink bill. It’s funny how my “other life” sets me back in strange ways. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I realized I needed to up my calories, so I forced myself to eat a big breakfast at the hotel.

Henry was at the front door to pick me up, right on time at 7:00 am. With his dark glasses and long white beard, he looked like he belonged in ZZ Top. Our first stop was The Mountain Goat, where I bought my hat. I knew their store had an entrance in the lobby where I could drop off items for the free hiker bin. There I left the leggings, which I had decided would be more trouble than good, as well as a bunch of leftover food, including expensive freeze-dried food. My backpack was already dramatically heavier due to resupply and I didn’t see any point in carrying what I was pretty sure I wouldn’t need. Let some other worthy hiker use it.

As we headed to the trail, the taxi driver was telling me all about the many accidents he had had and the crazy things he had done in his life. This time passed but it didn’t fill me with confidence in its driving!

Starting with fresh legs

At 7:15 a.m. I was in the parking lot I had left less than 20 hours earlier. There I had to decide whether to go back the 30 meters to the exact place where they had picked me up the day before to make a perfect connection. I’m generally a purist on this, but it seemed too silly to worry about 30 yards of 275 miles. I let him go and got going.

The walk starts with a pretty good uphill climb to Bromley, but even with the much heavier backpack I was feeling energized after my day in the city. When I saw this tree, I remembered a guy (name forgotten) who made an entire catalog of these during the course of his hike on the Long Trail. I admit, it was awesome!

Continuing upwards, it was colder and a bit windy. Near the end, the trail led out onto a steep ski slope for the final approach to the summit.

Up high, their new ski lift looks like the landing of an alien spaceship. Very strange!

Beam me up Scotty!

Despite the cold wind, I climbed the new tower with great views, especially towards Stratton. But I was freezing, so I went down immediately. I had left my bag of snacks unattended for two minutes and it had been attacked by mice! After looking around I finally found the plastic bag under the porch. Clever little critters.

Finding my first shelves (and a butterfly)

From there I headed several more kilometers to Styles Peak and then up to Peru Peak. I joked about how “fancy” everyone was at Styles Peak, but no one got the joke about how few Spanish speakers there were at Peru Peak. Perhaps it was at Styles Peak that I saw this elegant butterfly?

It doesn’t seem like much until the big reveal!

The next, slightly lower summit was Baker Peak. In the afternoon, during the ascent, the first rocky outcroppings of the trip were encountered. They were a little challenging, but were dry, grippy and not too steep. Descending from the top, I veered off trail a bit and used my AllTrails app to identify where I was and get back on track.

First ledges of the Long Road (with many more to come)

Out of nowhere: expect the unexpected

I felt strong coming down from Baker Peak and moving confidently down a modest descent. The trail was littered with dry fallen leaves, but seemed relatively smooth and winding. The weather was clear and sunny. Out of nowhere my left foot caught on something and I fell.

Trips are not uncommon when walking. Most of the time you may stumble a little and then regain your balance. Otherwise, if you are falling, you can recover the fall or turn around to let the pack take more of a hit.

This was not so. It was boom! Below! Face to face, with my heavy backpack feeling like I was being slammed into the ground by an NFL linebacker. As I was going down, I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my finger. As I landed and slid forward, my head hit a rock. I was stunned and couldn’t even tell how hard he had hit. I stood there for a couple of moments just absorbing the fact of my accident. I was afraid it might be bad. I stood motionless, in shock, face down on the road.

Taking Stock: Head First

My first concern was for my head. Most other injuries can be treated, but a head injury can have serious consequences, including death, for example. So I stood there for a moment wondering how badly he was hurt. I cautiously put my hand to my head to feel…what? At worst, I might feel floating skull fragments moving like broken china under my scalp. Or there may be a lot of blood, since even a minor wound to the scalp can bleed profusely. My fingers traced the top of my head and I didn’t feel any of it, not even a lump starting to form.

I turned around and looked at the sky. I felt conscious and coherent, my thought processes seemed rational, and I had no double vision or headaches. I began to hope that my collision with the rock had occurred at the end of my fall, when all my momentum had already dissipated. Head injuries can be tricky, but it was still a huge relief.

On balance: then the finger

I slowly removed my arms from the straps of my backpack and cautiously stood up, leaving my backpack on the path. He was clearly shocked.

Just then a young hiker with headphones passed by. He looked at me calmly, took stock of my situation, muttered something like «what a bummer,» and moved on. He was furious.

I slowly composed myself. I realized that the base of my left pinky finger had split open at the junction between my finger and my palm. That was the sharp pain he had felt. I assumed my finger had caught on something and been pushed back with great pressure toward the back of my hand, breaking the connection at the joint.

The skin tears when the finger is pulled back.

I wasn’t sure if I had broken my finger or severely dislocated it, but it had returned to its position, although it still hurt a lot. He had multiple bruises on his right palm, as well as other cuts and scrapes, but nothing too serious. What worried me most was my head, my finger and the loss of confidence caused by the violence of the fall.

Back on the road: yes, a little worn

I was alone. I had no choice. Standing there didn’t help at all. So, I put the backpack back on my shoulders and slowly and carefully began to continue along the trail. My legs shook from the impact and I took a cautious step forward.

Before the accident, I had intended to stop at the next campground, Lost Pond Shelter. Checking my map, I decided it was early enough to try to continue on to Big Branch Shelter. The logic was to be close to a highway (just 1.1 miles away) in case my injuries turned out to be serious enough that I had to evacuate off the road.

I stopped for a moment and texted Melody, Ben’s wife (who is a nurse), about my situation. In case I lost consciousness, I thought someone should know where I was and what had happened to me. That’s why I had brought four cards with me on the road: my driver’s license as identification, my credit card so I could buy things and pay for hotels, etc., my health insurance card in case I got hurt, and my funeral card in case I died. My wife and I have paid in full to become compost when we die. All someone has to do is call the number on the card and they will make all the arrangements for transportation of the body, composting and the funeral.

I received a response from Melody acknowledging my message, reminding me to call 911 if things got worse, and adding, «Don’t be a hero!»

How I Became a Yale Fan

Before reaching Lost Pond Shelter, a vigorous young man surprised me when he emerged from the brush onto the trail. He was wearing a bold Yale t-shirt. I greeted him: «How are you?»

He replied that he was fine and asked me how I was. I was not well and I explained my accident to him. He said, «Oh, we can help you; we have a full medical kit!»

It turned out that he was a junior named Andrew, a philosophy student at Yale. Together with Leila, a friend and senior history student, they were taking ten Yale freshmen on a preschool adventure in nature. As I passed the group, they looked like young deer in the headlights.

My spirits lifted. I began jokingly joking with the students. I asked if there were any pre-med students among them who would like to help me heal my injury. «Come on, ten incoming Yale freshmen? I bet there are easily two or three pre-meds among you!»

A pair of hands went up. “Okay, you have to see this,” I urged them, “this is something you will have to do someday.”

I first asked Andrew and Leila to check my students’ answers to further ensure that I did not have a head injury. My eyes lit up and the response was described as normal. It really seemed like I had escaped the old saying: «If the head hits the stone or the stone hits the head, it will be bad for the head.»

Then they put water on my hand, first washing it with soap and then adding an antiseptic that stung a little. Once this was done, they applied topical disinfectant and a bandage. Concerned about not hurting myself further, I asked them to “tape” my ring and fifth fingers to protect me. They gave me a couple rolls of duct tape so I could continue taping them together while my finger healed. I took some ibuprofen and they gave me a few more in case I needed them later.

It felt so good to have someone taking care of me. What a contrast to the careless (selfish?) guy I first met after the accident. We left on warm and friendly terms, and I expressed enormous gratitude for his help and now really felt like I was going to be okay.

Camping after a traumatic day

Before long I arrived at the Big Branch shelter. There was no one else there. I was running out of water, so I walked up a short, steep trail to Ten Kilns Brook, where I scrambled over rocks to find a place to fill my filter bag. In the late afternoon sun, I stuffed the bag into my two bottles of Nalgene and headed upstairs with everything full.

So I sat there, alone, until a woman, Dance Off, came and asked if there were any campsites at the shelter. I didn’t realize I had passed a few before and said «no». He then angrily criticized the men who were planning his journey and continued at high speed to the next shelter.

While I was eating my cold dinner, a middle-aged man came and I couldn’t decide whether to stay or go to the next shelter. The more “Fred from New Jersey” doubted, the more the light went out, and finally he stayed. So, in the deep twilight, we both tied stones to our ropes and tried to throw them over the branches of the trees. We finally made it and created a bear shelter for our food.

It had been a traumatic day. I was glad it was over. With my finger throbbing, I fell asleep.