So, I suppose I could've posted this a while ago, but between mental recovery, school, and Spring, it just hasn't happened. but here it is... the spring break story / story of my mom... Part I. Trip planning
Every spring break for the past 15 years I've made my annual pilgrimage to the desert to bike the white rim trail, a 120 mile loop along the white rim formation of Canyonlands National Park, Utah. The canyonlands are carved out of the Colorado Plateau by the Green and Colorado Rivers, with views to the La Sal ('salty'), Henry and Blue Mountains.
Each time is like the first. I return to watch the ravens soar on the currents hugging the canyon walls, and to watch the weather change in an instant. I return to feel my bare feet on the stone, to smell the sand and water and sage and onion. I return to be with my family and friends. I return to contemplate the few constellations i know, gaze at the craters of the moon and admire the layers of sandstone, dunestone, and mudstone, eroding into spires; Each spire standing-- awaiting its turn to fall.
I started mountain biking on the white rim when I was 12 years old, when my aunt and uncle convinced my parents to try out the trip. We all got new mountain bikes. I never really biked before, as we lived in the middle of nowhere, and I spent my time on horseback, and on foot. My first real bike was 3/4 size with no shocks. I'm pretty sure a combination of the rough trail and my terrible stiff form rattled my brain, and I've been back every year since. The crew usually consists of my parents and my sister, my aunt and uncle and a few friends. Due to weather and schedules our crew has fizzled in the past few years. This year in particular my aunt and uncle likely weren't able to get away from their snow bunny duties in the Wasatch, so I took on the trip leader role. The email that went out went something like this:
Hi all
Welcome to the most fabulous bike trip ever! For those non-newbies, the first paragraph is useful, and don't forget to pack underwear. For the rest, read on.
There will be 10 of us on this trip, (8 of us for most of it) and we'll be meeting at the parent's house in Chiloquin, driving to Utah, and meeting Jerry and Allyn there. Bring CD's, it is a LONG trip (12 hours from Chiloquin to Salt Lake, another 6 Hours to Canyonlands from there)
Food-wise, we have almost 5 pairs, and 5 days and nights, so each pair is responsible for one breakfast, lunch and dinner. If everyone could create meat-free and wheat-free options this would be fabulous, but warn us if this is not possible, and we'll figure something out. We'll go shopping for perishables in Price, Utah, but BEWARE, they do not sell real beer at the grocery store. So, come prepared with beer or wine and snacks, etc.
So, the pairs: Everyone Meet everyone:
Head and Ba, otherwise known as mom and Beags, or Judy and Bucky
Allyn and Jerry
Nick and Melissa
Wes and mel
Julie and pede
Head = crazy mom, looks like Jerry but with less hair
Ba = dad, bike mechanic, pit crew and sleeping bag warmer (this is not a positive quality)
Allyn = crazy aunt, artist
Jerry = crazy uncle, adventure king, EOE, tour guide
Nick = kick ass housemate, adventure cyclist, student
Melissa = me, professional student
Wes = crazy brother, mountain biker
Julie = from Iowa (not to be confused with Ohio or Idaho), partner in crime, we're riding across Iowa this summer
Pede = this is also me
Rookies read on:
The White Rim Trail is a ~100 mile jeep road loop along the White Rim formation in the Island in the Sky District of Canyonlands National Park, Utah. We will ditch a truck at our camp before entering the actual park, and take our sag wagon with us, trading off drivers as needed. Before we head out on bikes, we'll get our permit at the visitor's center and watch a short video about the sensitive ecologies of the canyon (Don't Step on the Mome Raths). We'll drop into the canyon overlooking the green river via Mineral Bottom road and ride along the river to our first campsite. There are no climbs our first day, one climb the second day (hardscrabble), one climb the third day (Murphy's), and a climb out on our last day. We'll spend 5 nights in the canyons (2 nights at one camp, so we'll have time to explore on foot).
There is no running water, so we will be grubby! There are, however, outhouses that are very nice. In the Desert, a good rule of thumb is to bring about a gallon of water per person per day, and stay hydrated. Make sure you bring a 5 gallon jug for water. We will fill it before entering the park.
The weather is unpredictable. We have had trips with 60-80 degree sunny weather. Two years ago we were snowed out and hiked out early. We have ridden through rain, snow, hail, thunderstorms and windstorms. Sometimes we eat sand in our oatmeal. Sometimes we hike in sandals, and sometimes in winter parkas. So, try to pack light, but not too light. Bring Sunscreen.
I have attached a list of stuffs to bring. If you have any other questions about the trip, send an email my way, or give me a call. Can't wait for the trip!!
Pede
Part II.
The drive out
Jerry dog was worried, but his plan was to hang out with Emilee for a couple nights, then spend the rest of the week with Conor. His week was looking like a day in the dog park. I cleaned out the truck, filled it up with gas, bought ice, and walked my bikes to the bike shop to switch my pedals from the road bike to the mountain bike. Nick & I packed up the truck, picked up coffee and chocolate cupcakes from the wandering goat and headed to south Eugene to pick up Jules.
South on I-5 with Crooked Still playing on the stereo to swing by my sister's house, pick up chocolate, tickle Alex and head on to Ashland to pick up Wes... then over another pass to my parents' house.
We wake at the ass crack of dawn to pack and roll out the miles across the basin and range formations of eastern Oregon, Nevada, through the Bonneville salt flats of Utah, past the Wasatch front, and down south into the Colorado plateau, headed for the canyonlands.
Lucky horseshoes
Our first night camping involved unpacking and repacking, hiking and biking. Partner in Crime Jules and I each found lucky horseshoes on the trail. My dad and i ran across a mining claim sign near the wash we wandered down. The gov. has been out here, just outside the park for the past ten years, probing and shocking the earth searching for oil. We hid the sign as if this action would be any sort of hindrance to THEM. But it felt good to carry out a bit of monkey-wrenching to save the desert.
Part III. The ride
Mineral Bottom Labyrinth
Miles of desert stretched out in front of us. The plateau seemed to carry on forever, masking the canyons beyond. We biked like the wind, feeling as though we were on choppers, barely feeling the bumps after significant time on road bikes. Dirt in our teeth, sun warming the sage, red earth, blue sky. We dropped into the canyons, a 2 mile downhill with switchbacks overlooking the green river. A few 1920's-40's cars wait with the colluvium off the edges, gradually creeping down to the canyon floor. All smiles at the bottom. Our sunny day kicks off the best White Rim trip in a long time.
Potato Bottom
a.m. wind storm. I opt to drive through the sandy bottoms and plan on riding back to ensure I don't miss a mile. There are areas of the trail that, if you drive over a stone the wrong way, you might rock into the vertical wall on your left, or you might shift over the cliff on your right. I tried not to think about this. I opted for almost taking the left mirror off of the truck instead of going over the cliff into the green river.
My dad and I swapped seats at the base of hardscrabble. Hardscrabble is a formation along the white rim that involves a very long and steep, somewhat technical climb from either direction. We have renamed it 'hurlscrabble'. The climb was rewarding but for the unwelcome wind at the top. The weather was unpredictable. Clouds, wind, intermittent rain, dark sky, sun.
We set up camp in the wind and rain. Looming black cloud to the west over the river. Blue skies to the east. We hid in the tamarisk, stole the oreo cookies, and widdled sticks for marshmallows we didn't have. An afternoon climb up through the formations gave us close ups of patterns in the stone and views of the canyon.
We were giddy with desert air and hot cocoa by nightfall. We traded posts on the moon-viewing platform and gazed at the moon for hours through binoculars, contemplating the craters. The cottonwood overhead fell in the sky over and over and over again as the clouds passed.
Murphy's Hogback
The days came and went too quickly. One morning we woke to a blanket of snow and cooked eggies under a tarp. Our sunshine dance was intended to send away the snow but by the end of breakfast, the temperature dropped, and we all went back to bed. Another afternoon hike with bouts of snow and sun. The temperature hit somewhere in the 70's, and we stripped our underlayers. Down to tanks and t's. it snowed 5 minutes later. The temp dropped again. When we arrived back at our tents we stole the peach pie my uncle had packed and ate it straight out of the pan with forks, and drank a bottle of wine... straight out of the bottle.
White Crack and Airport
I woke our last morning at Murphy's to a terrible nightmare. I won't repeat the gory and traumatic details but if you have ever taken mefloquine (malaria prevention) you might know the kind of dream i'm referring to. The content of my dream involved loosing my sister. What is this crazy recent fear of loosing my family members? I was so disturbed when I woke that I was determined to make it a quick ride to White Crack where I was sure there would be a cell signal. I had to make sure she was okay.
Riding went faster than expected, and we flew out to white crack. A first for me: after fifteen years of riding the White Rim, i finally made it up the sand trap hill out to white crack without stopping or falling over after hitting an instant velocity of 0. The promontory at White Crack reveals views in nearly all directions of the Needles and Maze districts of Canyonlands and the La Sals, Blues and Henry's. The La Sals had been hit hard with snow the night before, and were a beautiful glowing set of smooth diamonds to the northeast. I tried my cell. No luck. But I was feeling better after the ride, and knew it was just a dream.
As I rode, I rode mostly alone, clearing my head and contemplating the spires. Wondering how often they fall. Fifteen years of riding the trail. Usually for about 5 days, round up to a week if you count all the other time i've spent in the desert southwest. 15 weeks in the desert. I've heard a small slide from across the canyon, I saw the dust. I've never seen one fall. It seems you would have to be very lucky to see it. And I would feel like I had witnessed something BIG, and I would feel sad that it was time.
The day was another perfect day for riding: very little wind, just enough sun and no snow or rain. When we arrived at our last campsite we basked in the sun like we had never seen it. Breathing in the desert. Breathing in the world. When my mom and dad arrived with the truck we unpacked and made camp like ants. My mom checked her cell to make plans with the house and animal sitters, and to let my sister know where we were. I coerced my mom into calling my sister asap. I wanted to hear her voice. I didn't tell her about the dream.
We all went out for a stroll on the stones. Nick and Jules and I sat overlooking the canyons. I thought of time, erosion and deposition. I gazed out over the canyons and followed their contours. I admired the soft lines and colors, the clear air and shadows walking across the land.
My parents went off on their own searching out a path down. We could see them from our throne. My dad started to climb down, back up, down, bad foothold, back up, then down. My mom watched from a nook in the rim above. Then she followed.
Part IV. The fall
I think my heart stopped. My dad ran around the boulder and disappeared. Heart sank further. I wondered what was wrong with me, and what might have brought about this fatalistic attitude. My dad resurfaced. I was watching like a hawk. He whistled and yelled "NEED HELP"
"I knew it." It just came out
"Is he serious?" (Nick) I started running. Jules warned me not to run. I think I ran faster.
We tried to find the spot where they had gone down, but the desert has an illusory quality that prevented us from finding their route. we kept running. I saw my dad waiting for us. He guided us down the rim and onto white rim boulders that had peeled back from the wall, planted like giant stepping-stones down into the canyon. I saw my mom in a sheltered overhang at the bottom of the rockslide. Was it her knees? Ankles? What happened? It took a while to get any explanation out of my dad, and it was clear my mom wasn't answering.
My mom is like superwoman and when she is hurt she doesn't really like to admit she is hurt. So I left it hanging until my dad explained a couple minutes later. She was climbing down, and her handhold peeled loose. She fell 15 feet, slamming into boulders on the way down. The rock that peeled loose was leaning against the boulder next to her at the bottom. She was going in and out of consciousness. There was a hole in her leg, but she was standing.
My dad heard the fall, but didn't see anything and called out to see if she was okay. No reply. He ran around the rock to find her. The rock was lying on her leg. It must have weighed at least 100-150 lbs. "get this thing off me, I can't breathe" he moved the rock, and she passed out again. He called for help.
My dad and Nick helped her climb out from below as I helped her from above, guarding her unsteady stance, and holding her while she rested between moves. She was holding a conversation. She was coherent. She knew who she was, who we were and where we were. She didn't remember the fall or the removal of the rock, only the crushing feeling. We walked her back to the road, and Jules ran for the truck and we drove her back to camp.
Back in the tent we helped her take off her pants to check out the damage. Giant hole in her leg. She hit her head on the way down, as well as her back. Flashbacks of the unexpected death of my grandma under similar medical circumstances came over me in waves. Internal bleeding. Unknown damage from crush injuries. We have to take her to Moab. She is going to resist.
I went back out to consult the map with the troops. 11.6 miles to the paved road, another 30 or so into moab. The sun was setting. The worst part of the road hides in the shadow of the Wingate formation even during broad daylight. We had to go and we needed a plan.
I went back into the tent to work on coercing her into the drive, and quietly convincing my dad that this should happen. We talked about her head and checked her eyes. We convinced her to go only because she hit her head, none of us had training with head injuries. We tried to keep it light. It wasn't a big deal right? Not too far to Moab, we'll just stay the night in a motel, and come back in the morning to get the rest of our crew. We'll get out of the canyons before it is too dark. Everything will be fine. At least, this is what we were telling her and trying to believe.
We repacked the truck with anything that they wouldn't need for the night. We left food and water, sleeping stuffs, camp stove and a charged cell phone. We loaded my mom in the front of the truck. I know she felt every bump on that road. I wanted to block out the moans of pain, but felt guilty for this. It was cold. My hands were sweating. I was calculating our progress by the terrain and measuring the remaining light. Not much... She kept asking "are you sure it's not too dark?" and kept saying "we should just go back, this was a bad idea". I kept hoping that my dad wouldn't cave to her pleas. I kept hoping that I wouldn't either. She is not thinking clearly i kept telling myself
I knew it would be one of the longest car rides of my life. I knew it would be longer for my mom. I could only wonder how my dad was doing, was he aware of how serious this was? Was he thinking about it or was he in driving mode? My eyes dashed from the terrain to my dad to my mom to the shadows on the canyon walls, back to the clock. Only 15 minutes had gone by. Only a few miles down. I wondered if we would make it. I wondered if we could get out before it got too dark. I wondered if my mom would live, and thought to myself and to her "hang on little tomato" My new mantra for hill climbing.
I reminded myself to breath. Her leg was bleeding pretty badly, and we had to stop to get more gauze from our first aid kit in the back. There was blood on the door handle, blood on her face and her hands. There is blood on my backpack. She wiped the drops from her leg and the slight pressure forced a huge volume of blood out the opening.
When we reached Muscleman Arch, I knew the climb was just around a couple more bends. My mom said she knew where we were now, and I repeated the location. I could hear her heart sink in her voice. She thought we were closer. I said my goodbyes to the canyon for the year. It had gotten the better of us this time. Mother nature reminded us of her power, and our ephemeral existence. no matter what happens, I will be back soon.
We rounded a corner and the last of the sun in the distance hit the tips of the La Sals, turning them brilliant pink. Then it was dark. We started up the road in 4low, lights on, examining the road for any others that might be coming down. This is the type of road that you don't turn around on. The type of road you don't back up on, and you don't look over the edge. This is the road my mom and dad and nephew almost didn't make it out of two years ago in a snowstorm, but that is another story.
The Schaffer trail is a climb from the lowest part of the white rim out to the Navajo formations, which lie above the Wingate. The road gets washed out with every storm and is frequently closed. It is only wide enough in most places for one vehicle. I watched for headlights. Apparently so did my mom. Every now and then she would see lights and was convinced they were headed down. They were headed out.
My mom asked again if it was too dark. Then "Pedle, what do you think? Do you think this is a good decision?" with all the enthusiasm and light hearted feeling I had left I answered. "yup, it's still pretty light out, and we're almost there" then thought again to myself "hang on little tomato, we're almost there" and i hoped that she wouldn't remember this ride, and knew that it would be seared in my memory forever.
Thoughts of what would happen if she didn't make it. I think I would give up. Just wait in the desert until something happened. I wouldn't have the strength to go get the others. I wouldn't have the will power to care. I imagined my dad without my mom. I tried to quiet my head by closing my eyes. Telling myself, breath, you are doing all you can do, let her rest. Don't focus on the climb, the cliff, the darkness, the washed out edges and boulders in the road. She is going to be okay. As soon as we get her to the hospital everything will be okay. Her breathing and occasional moan was welcome after a while, just to let me know she was still conscious, still alive, but it hurt. It is a helpless place to be, strapped in a car, hoping time doesn't win, and hoping it is all just overreaction.
We finally made it to the pavement. 2 hours had passed. 30 more miles to Moab. We discussed how we would go over her history when we got there. We tried to call my uncle for a general location of the hospital and to let him know what had happened.
In the ER they took my mom in immediately and called the x-ray tech and the physician. Hours went by. They x-rays came back negative. No fractures to her pelvis or femur. They took her in for a CT of her head. I was nauseous. I hadn't eaten for 12 hours. I didn't want to. I have watched many orthopedic surgeries, and seen many gruesome sites and not felt ill. Not the same when it is my mom on the gurney.
I fell asleep on the cold, sterile couch in the waiting room, and heard the physician come back in with the CT results a while later. My dad got up to talk with them. I stayed. He came back faint, fanning his face. I asked about the CT results. He told me they were going to cut her open. I swallowed my heart. I tried to clarify and surely freaked my dad out more. "they are doing brain surgery!?" "no, they are doing surgery on their leg, you can go talk to them"
The damage to her leg was unclear. There was a possibility that my mom would loose her quad. She is already missing her hamstrings in that leg from a motorcycle accident in her 20's. Crush injuries in muscles cause severe swelling that if left untreated cause muscle cell death. When muscle cells are crushed, enzymes and myoglobin in the muscles are released into the body.
Your kidneys filter the fluid, but when the damage is too extensive, they cannot keep up. Kidneys shut down. We talked with the Docs and the staff to decide what we should do for the night. Her surgery wouldn't be for another couple of hours, and she would be admitted after. I think it was around 1am. We left the canyon at 6pm. We kissed her goodnight. There wasn't anything more we could do. Keeping her awake wasn't going to help.
We went to our hotel and showered. It was not the satisfying wonderful clean feeling you would expect after 6 days of camping and biking through the desert without washing. In fact, I felt much cleaner in the desert before I set foot in the hospital than I felt after the shower.
We set the alarm for 6 and spent the sleepless night wondering if the sun had come up or if it was just the motel 6 sign glowing outside our window. I heard my dad's breathing change 10 minutes before the alarm went off. He had finally fallen asleep.
We went back to the hospital. She was looking okay, but had not recovered from the anesthesia, trauma, or lack of sleep and was less coherent than the day before. She asked that we eat breakfast and pick up the others. She would be there for a while. Her leg was clamped open to release pressure, and to drain the fluids from the damaged tissue. Her status was unclear.
We ate at Denny's. I moved my eggs around on my plate, and vowed to not eat red meat for a while. It looked too much like her leg. My dad scarfed his breakfast, and admitted that he got the shakes last night because he hadn't eaten anything. We spent our moments within cell service calling the kennel, the house sitters, coworkers, bosses and family members telling and retelling the story. Too many questions we couldn't answer. I didn't have the heart to call my sister until that morning. I wasn't going to leave her that message. I wasn't going to tell her I didn't know what would happen.
We headed back in for our crew, with lighter hearts than before. I hadn't thought I would be coming back. I thought I would be staying in a hotel with my mom, waiting for the others. Instead, she was still in the hospital, discharge date yet to be determined. Condition? Could go either way. But she was alive.
I was riding out of the canyon either way. I knew it would make her happy, and I had to get rid of the adrenaline in my system somehow. Had to do something, had to clear my head. A long ride and a good climb should do the trick.
I pedaled and pedaled with fierce determination and anger and frustration and exhaustion and uncertainty and fear. I could have pedaled all day like that. When I got to Schaeffer trail I waited for the truck, and started my ascent. I was determined to make it without stopping. I pedaled some more. Up and up. Into the switchbacks, into the Wingate, then into the Navajo. No stops, no sweat. Well, only one drop. I let the drivers coming into the canyon know that there was a truck on its way up, not too far behind, knowing my dad and Jules were there.
At the top I heard a wooo hooo!! Echo off the canyon and looked back to see Jules cheering for me. I gave a satisfied replied that echoed and echoed, hoping my mom would hear in Moab.
The way home
We left my dad at mineral bottom after a strange and forced goodbye. My dad and i decided it might be best if i didn't head back into moab, and just headed back home with the others. Mom would likely still be on pain medication, and wouldn't remember my being there. We ate a quiet and sad meal in green river and i spent the drive hoping I wouldn't get a call from my dad. He called, but i couldn't bring myself to answer the phone for fear of crashing, so i was determined to wait until we made it to my uncle's house just outside of salt lake. When we arrived, my uncle was talking to my mom on the phone, and they had dinner waiting for us.
I can't explain how amazing it was to hear her little voice on the phone. I didn't need to talk to her, she was talking to my aunt and uncle, I just wanted to hear her voice. A complete 180 from that morning. My uncle said she sounded terrible. I thought she sounded wonderful. She was alive, very alive.
My mom was in the hospital until Wednesday. She was scheduled for release on Tuesday, but her labs came back unstable, and would have had to be readmitted in salt lake city. Because her kidneys shut down she gained about 20 pounds overnight, and my dad didn't recognize her the day she was released. Her entire body was bruised. She was walking about a week and a half later. The drains in her leg were taken out about 3 weeks later.
My mom must be superwoman. Yesterday she was building a fence with my dad. The fall happened a month ago.
Labels: white rim
