by Sheriff Joe » February 5th, 2010, 2:30 pm
Good thread, Ray! You coulda pulled an Aaron Ralston and cut your leg off...
Four come to mind, only two fishing related.
1. When I was 17 I spent the summer working at Philmont, the Boy Scout high adventure base in the Sangre De Cristos in New Mexico. One afternoon we were high on the Mt. Baldy ridge at about 12,000 ft, totally exposed. We saw a storm coming in, thunder all around, and made a run for the trees a few hundred feet below. A couple strikes of lightning were so close that there was no discernible gap between flash and noise, and one was close enough to knock my friend down. We stopped by a boulder right at the trees, threw off our packs, and lay down flat on the ground for 15 minutes or so, during which our pack frames began to buzz (back in the external-frame days), I smelled ozone for the first time, and I was sure I was going to die.
2. In Alaska in summer 2003, three friends and I took a hike to the Bomber Glacier in the Talkeetna Mountains. Beautiful hike, pretty far out there (by lower 48 standards, at least). Third day in, we shot a bearing to a pass, climbed up and over, and realized that we had to traverse a glacier to get where we wanted to be. It was maybe a half-mile or so across the glacier to the other side of the ridge, and we quickly realized that, even though the ice felt hard and stable, it was too steep to traverse across without crampons. We slid to the bottom, then walked to the other side of the glacier at the bottom, and I went up with my friend Rich to scout a route back up. The snow was much softer at the bottom, and I had to kick steps up a relatively steep slope. I was just mentioning to Rich, as we were about 100 steps up, that maybe this wasn't a good idea and we should probably have a rope, when my front foot fell through the ice, and the snow broke away to reveal a big-ass crack that went maybe 10 feet on either side of me horizontally and was about 30 feet deep. It started about person-wide, then narrowed to maybe a foot wide at the bottom. Just big enough to slide in and down maybe 20 feet and be totally stuck with two broken legs. I yelled out and leaned back against the slope, and Rich, one step behind me, grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back (into knee deep snow steps), and we slid down a few feet. Scared the S%*$ out of me, made me realize that we were way out of our league in terms of gear and preparedness, and is the only time I really felt like I would have died had someone not actively saved my life. Needless to say, we went back down, tromped out of the valley and around the ridge to the next valley, and up to our spot on dirt, not glacier.
3. Once in Sequoia with my sister and girlfriend (who became my wife), we hiked up to Twin Lakes. It was buggy and rainy, so the girls took naps while I scouted around the lake and fished. A few hundred yards away across the lake I came to a stretch of boulders about VW-Bug size. They were wet, I had my rod, and I wanted to get past them, so I found a rock with a sloping top that got steeper as you scramble up the face (maybe 15 feet high or so). I got on top of the boulder, put my rod in my teeth, took a running start and got most of the way up to where I had a toehold, both arms holding the top lip above my head, and I was semi-stuck. Just as I stopped moving and flexed my arms, my feet gave way and I slid down the rockface, dislocating my right shoulder. Most. Painful. Thing. Ever! It felt like the ultimate funny-bone smashing (in my shoulder), with huge white-hot pain, a limp arm, and that awful dislocated unnatural feeling. I sat down, took a deep breath, and put both hands in my lap and moved my arms upward. Sickening crunching, rolling shoulder ball-and-socket feeling, and it popped back in. Hurt like *, but could have been a lot worse if I hadn't been able to pop it back in, if I were alone, and if it would have been something that would have prevented me from walking. Lucky...
4. Once in Glacier, I was fishing around dusk by myself on a flat stretch of a river. Zoned out, focused on the water, in my own world. All of a sudden, a huge echoing "BANG" noise scares the * out of me, and I look upstream, and there's a big beaver, slapping his tail on the surface of the water to warn me. It scared the living crap out of me.....
Joe
Slap a cold trout on it!