Still Alive and Ticking (kind of)
Way, way, way back in the canyon before the Ascent from Hell
Whoever would have guessed that at 9 am last Sunday morning, when my daughter and I hit the Pima Canyon trailhead, that it would take me a week to get enough energy to tell you the story of a lifetime.
We have been hiking the canyon for years. We hiked there the weekend before last. In fact, to ground myself during a very stressful time, I decided to draw a picture of Pima Canyon which I called “Lost Trail” and described losing the trail and my daughter, and then finding her again and being so relieved. Note: I drew this drawing less than three days before the two of us would hike into Pima Canyon and end up really losing the trail and having to be emergency overnight evacuated. Psychic intuition, eerie coincidence, or both? I’ll never know.
Our plan was to hike through the canyon and over the saddle that leads to Finger Rock and end at the Finger Rock trailhead. We consulted the trail map with the expert guys at Summit Hut. They showed us the way with the firm direction “Just keep heading North East.” Fine. No problem. Right.
If you are not aware of Pima Canyon, let me explain. It is a very difficult trail, full of rocky terrain, boulders which must be navigated, steep ups and downs, cactus imposing their prickles on the narrow trails, and is in no way easy. In fact, Pima Canyon trail is categorized as “strenuous” even if you don’t intend on climbing over the top of a mountain to get to the other side.
First mistake: Thinking we had to climb one mountain to get to the other side.
We had no idea . . .
We began hiking at 9 am, forging past all our usual places including our favorite “log” which is an indicator of about 5 miles into the hike. We pushed past log for miles and miles wondering when we would begin to climb. At 12:30 pm we reached a spring which seemed to be noted on the map as the point where the trail would start to ascend. We finally sat down for a break to catch up on some snacks and water. (Though we had been quickly drinking water along the way).
This is when things started going oddly wrong. Shortly after the spring, we began a crazy perilously steep ascent of the mountain from hell. This is the kind of mountain that has no virtues. Gruesome switchbacks cut back and forth seemingly forever. Many times, the trail was just a mere inches wide with crumbling plummets off the side. We kept pushing and pushing assured that once we got to the top, we would see Finger Rock, and know that we could begin the challenging descent to where my car was parked at the other end.
Wrong. We got to the top only to find that we had to climb back down into a very dark creepy canyon where a spooky Blair Witch cement building oozed impenetrable blackness, and we were sure Pennywise from It as in there waiting for us. We lost another couple of hours just getting to this point. If we were on the right trail, we knew it was shorter distance to get to the end than to turn around, which at this point was probably about ten miles back.
What the hell was this thing doing back there?
But things didn’t get better. We had to climb and descend and then climb again. We were on the top of our third mountain (not one) when we realized that we were facing southwest with the sun rapidly beginning it descent. In other words, we were heading in the wrong direction.
There was no choice. We had to turn around at 5:30 pm, get back over three mountains, and all the way through Pima Canyon because there was no assurance we were going to get out if we kept climbing.
My knee blew out on the way down the first mountain. We then had to inch our way as I tried to use every inch of strength to navigate the demanding terrain with one leg to the best of my ability.
The whole thing was like the recurring nightmares I have when I keep climbing bleak mountains only to never get anywhere.
Every time I had to use my right leg to get over a boulder, it felt as if my knee was being crushed to dust.
We kept moving forward, seemingly making no progress. We finally made it back to the spring, and began working our way back out of the canyon. We had no idea how far in we had gone. Sun was fading fast.
It got dark. Temperatures dropped into the thirties. We used headlamps and a flashlight to try to stay on the trail, but the trail is very difficult to find due to all the of boulders, curves, and switchbacks through the canyon.
At 11 pm both my arms went numb and my legs stopped working. I thought I was having a heart attack. I called 911, and thankfully got through. Also, thankfully I brought a remote phone charger with us.
I gave 911 my phone number and my daughter’s phone number. They ended up talking to kiddo throughout the rescue process. She did such a fantastic job of talking to the fire rescue team.
When they asked me how far we were from the trailhead, I said 2-3 miles. Wrong. We were still about 6 miles in. So, when we saw the plane circling the canyon looking for us, it was far from where we actually were.
They called my daughter back and finally nailed our coordinates using our cell phones. They found our actual bodies using infrared, but the canyon is too narrow to get a helicopter in for rescue.
In the meanwhile, kiddo called her dad who headed in with warm clothes, a cane, and electrolytes to try to find us. It took him probably two hours until he could hear our yells.
Then we continued to work our way out. Bean held my hand each time I had to climb a boulder, so I could squeeze it and yell to endure the pain.
It must have been about 2 am by the time a rescue crew on foot reached us. A team of about 8 fire rescue men worked with me to get me additional miles up the trail to where another team of rescue workers was waiting with a big basket, like a human wheelbarrow, which they would use to wheel me out of the canyon. One of the men had severely injured his ankle on the way in to get me. As it turns out, as soon as they got me out, they had to go back in and get him. That’s how treacherous this terrain is.
Preparing to be loaded into the human wheel barrow.
It took a dozen men constantly rotating and working together to wheel me over steep rocks and narrow trails.
I was freezing and going into hypothermia. To test my awareness, they asked me the standard questions.
“Kim, do you know what month this is?”
After thinking, I answered, “March.”
Then: “Kim, what is the name of our president”
I blurted out “I’m not saying that fucker’s name.”
My team of heroes went silent. I kept trying to convince them that I hate Hillary just as much. I fucked up.
They did finally get me out of the canyon. During the entire terrifying basket ride, I alternated between moaning and sobbing and asking if my daughter was okay.
When we got to the end, I insisted they let me pee. They forced me to drink all kinds of liquids before putting me in that basket, and my bladder was going to explode. I convinced them to let me go, but they would only let me pee right there in the parking lot while they held a blanket up. It was utterly embarrassing, and all the rescue workers were astounded at the amount of pee that came out of me. Austin Powers pee to the Nth.
The loaded me into the ambulance, and my kiddo told me she loved me as they begin plugging me into IVs and testing my stats etc.
When they finally got me on an ER hospital bed, I looked at the clock and asked if it was broken. It said 4:30. The clock wasn’t broken. They didn’t get me out of the canyon until 4:15 am.
My body temp was in the mid 80s and the EKG revealed irregularities which probably resulted from the hypothermia. They wanted to keep me overnight. I self-discharged at 6:30 am, went home and slept for two hours, and went to work.
I then somehow pushed my way through the work week, including one 14 hour and one 18 hour workday.
I have yet to recover. I have spent the past 24 hours in bed. I’m still very wobbly and disoriented.
So that’s why I have been largely absent.
One morning this week while I was brushing my teeth, I heard a small plane or helicopter circling overhead, and went into shock. I will never hear that sound the same again.
The cats have been watching over me with demonstrable concern. I’m just looking forward to the day when I feel right again. I hope this experience doesn’t stop me and kiddo from hiking together again, but I did tell her from now on, let’s set our limits at seven miles total. She agreed that’s probably a good idea. I am way too old for overnight rescue evacs!
If you have FB, I am the first rescue listed in this update.
That’s about all I can get out of me now. Just letting you know where I’ve been.
Peace, love, and phucking phew.