I mean, just look at that sky! What could go wrong?
7pm - HOS and Tink agree to hike Granite Mountain in the morning. Granite's one of my favorite I-90 adventures. It's not great during avalanche season, but the snow is still thin enough we didn't have to worry for this trip. We go to bed early because we're getting up for an alpine start.
5:00am - SNOOZE BUTTON.
5:09am - SNOOZE BUTTON.
5:18am - Ok. OK. I'm out of bed. It's still dark, of course. In November it feels like it's always dark. I wake HOS, feed Tink, make coffee. Jump in the car.
6:34am (Four hours, 35 minutes until the incident.) - We arrive at the trailhead. It's empty. Big surprise. We start in the dark, but the stars tell us we should have good weather. It's 24F.
7:19am (Three hours, 50 minutes until the incident.) - We're still in the trees, but on the switchbacks facing east we can see an amazing sunrise. Pinks and purples and blue all mixed together. It's going to be a great day.
7:52am (Three hours, 17 minutes until the incident.) - Our last major switchback before the meadows. A long traverse to the east. The trees peter out and we enter the meadows. There's a little snow, but definitely not completely covering the ground.
8:26am (Two hours, 43 minutes until the incident.) - The peak and the lookout are in sight. The meadows are covered, but not with enough snow to make for easy travel. The winter route was full of weak snowbridges and cornices. We opt for the summer route. It's gorgeous.
9:16am (One hour, 53 minutes until the incident.) - Summit! Spectacular views. It's a four volcano day. We demonstrate why we don't produce many videos by trying multiple times to name all four correctly.
9:29am (One hour, 40 minutes until the incident.) - We started down. We followed the same route back through the basin, but jumped onto the ridge below the rocks. We started seeing more people on their way up. Clouds were on the horizon, but not bothering us.
10:36am (33 minute until the incident.) - Back into the trees and starting down the switchbacks between avalanche gullies. We talked about the grouse that scared the beejeezus out of us last time we were up here and all manner of other useless topics. Quality time with the boy.
11:08am (One minute until the incident.) - We have a system of communicating wordlessly when we see someone else. The person in front will use their hand to signal the number in an approaching party. If they're coming toward us, the fingers are pointed down or to the side. If we're catching up to someone, we point them forward.
11:08:50am (10 seconds until the incident.) - I was leading. I saw someone below us on the trail. It wasn't clear which way they were going. I looked harder and determined they were heading down the mountain. Pointer finger out, I lifted my trekking pole off the ground and pointed forward.
11:09am (The incident.) - I don't know exactly how it started. I expect I missed a step or slipped off a root or rock in the trail. My right ankle rolled over. Not a little, all the way. Forward momentum continued plus gravity pulling me down. My leg twisted under and around before I extricated it and found myself sitting in the trail.
The pain wasn't immediate. It was a good few seconds before it slammed into me. I was lightheaded and saw stars. My heart was beating as though we had just completed a summit push. I could hear my pulse thundering in my ears.
"Are you ok?" HOS had finally stopped asking me if I was ok each time I slipped while hiking following the whole hip saga. This time he was really concerned. He'd asked it twice already without an answer.
"Yeah. Totally. I'm fine." I tried to stand, but it would not support my weight. "I'm just going to sit for a few minutes." "Ok."
The pain was pushed to the side and I stood up. I could stand. I could walk. Barely. Slowly. We were still a mile and a half from the trailhead, but damned if I was going to need a rescue.
Careful placement and heavy reliance on my trekking poles eased my way down the trail. When my foot bumped a rock or root or maybe just the air it would shoot pain up my leg and elicit a whimper. It was slow.
11:51am (42 minutes after the incident.) It had taken us about twice as long to get to the car. By the time we arrived I was feeling pretty confident it was just a bad sprain. Henry texted home. "We're ok. Dad fell on the trail and twisted his ankle." We've trained him well. Always start with the "we're ok" attestation.
12:15pm (One hour and six minutes after the incident.) We arrived at home and unloaded our gear. I almost always switch out of my boots at the trailhead, but I'd kept them on for the drive home fearing what I'd see. It was a good decision. My ankle was very swollen already with a huge bump on the outside. I went straight to the couch with an ice pack.
1:35pm (Two hours and 26 minutes after the incident.) Mrs. Moosefish convinced me I should get the foot looked at. Fine. Prepare yourself for an "I-told-you-so" when they say it's just a sprain.
1:52pm (Two hours and 43 minutes after the incident.) Definitely broken. Crap. Weber C fracture of the fibula with minor displacement. Did I make it worse walking out on the trail? Maybe. Hard to tell. They gave me a boot and referred me to podiatry.
November 22 (Two days after the incident.) I saw the podiatrist. He declared everything was good. Keep the boot on. See me in a month.
November 23 (Three days after the incident.) I saw the orthopedic surgeon at my regular surgery center. (I agree. It's not right that I have a "regular surgery center".) They took more images, consulted another surgeon, and wanted to wait a week for the swelling to go down before deciding on surgery. More importantly, they referred me to a vascular center to look for blood clots.
Guess what? Blood clots! Apparently common with these types of injuries, but not so common the podiatrist thought about it? Hmph. Blood thinners. Compression socks. Orders to keep it elevated, iced, don't cross your legs, and minimal activity. For how long? Three months. THREE MONTHS? What about the work trip to Africa? Maybe don't.
As you can see, this was all back in November right before Thankgiving. I got to ride in the backseat of the truck to Portland with my leg propped up between the front seats. I sat in a chair all weekend instead of opting outside. I tried to go for a walk, but managed only a third of a mile with no elevation gain before I had to call it and return to the car.
The next time I went out was over a month later. I hiked about a mile on our local trail with minimal gain with just a brace for support. My compression stocking repeatedly fell down and my ankle hurt for days afterward, but it was totally worth it. I'd missed the trail.
Since then, only three more hikes. The best was two months after the incident about two and a half miles with 600 feet of gain. I've been forbidden from going on snow, but what if the trail is bare even though it's snowing? That was ok. Spectacular. Reinvigorating. Magical.
Now I'm in physical therapy twice a week. The surgeon says I'd probably be further along in recovery if we'd gone for surgery right away, but the risks of surgery probably weren't worth it. Do I agree? Hard to say. It'd be cool to have screws and a plate in my foot plus another sweet scar (chicks dig scars), but if something had gone wrong that would have been bad.
I've set a goal of being back to 100% by July 5. Let's see if that happens.
