Twice in the past three years, I’ve opted to walk around a dangerous looking section of mountain bike trail only to end up in the ER. Call it clumsiness, call it good intentions gone awry, call it bad luck- it happened.
Three summers ago riding the river trail with local Julien Havac, we came to a tricky rock strewn section. I said: “just to be safe, let’s walk it.”
Two steps onto the rocks and I slipped and fell hard. I got up looked around and that’s when I noticed blood spurting out of my lower right leg.
Quick-thinking Havac pulled off his t-shirt, ripped it apart and created a tourniquet. Off we rode to the Westside BMC, me tracking blood across the floor as I gimped in.
Some nine internal and countless more external stitches and I was out the door and off the bike and pretty well restricted for two weeks.
Now comes this past Saturday’s chapter in playing it safe.
On a section of the North Umpqua Trail, I was riding solo (read cautious) and got off to walk around a pretty bad section of trail. A fall here and you’d go down a steep embankment and then over a 15-foot cliff into a rock pile.
As I walked my bike through this section, I slipped and next thing I knew was cartwheeling down the embankment and then over the cliff. Luckily, small alder tress stopped my fall short of the rocks.
After checking to see if I was all there and that extremities worked, I realized I was virtually blind without my glasses, which had been torn off. A river of blood flowed down onto my face from a serious gash on my forehead.
I collected myself and started to climb out only to discover that my right thigh, left knee and left buttock were severely bruised. I crawled to where the cliff could be climbed and slowly inched my way upward.
Once back on the trail, it took me a few more minutes to retrieve my bike. It had fallen to the cliff’s edge. Hanging onto a small alder tree and using it as my lifeline, I was able to retrieve my bike.
Thus ensued a three-mile walk out followed by a five-mile ride down the highway to get my car. Car found, I drove back to where I’d exited the trail to wait for my wife who was hiking.
I was a mess and thanks several mountain bikers, hikers and fishermen who saw to it that I wasn’t in critical condition.
The rest of the story involves four hours in the ER at Mercy Medical Center in Roseburg and an array of staples in my forehead. After the staples are removed any chance of becoming a screen star are long gone, except for perhaps bits parts of a truly mean, well-scarred character.
The bruises are deep, my ability to sleep is nil, the psychological wounds apparent.
Is it time to hang it up. I mean if you keep getting hurt while playing it safe, there has to be some sort of warning in that. Perhaps a more contemplative life is in order?
This article appears in Aug 26 – Sep 1, 2010.
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Dang, Woody, it ain’t no fun getting hurt! Heal up, dood, you’ll be back in the saddle in no time! At least you can’t get too injured shooting photos….see ya at Thrilla.
Oh, Woody—so sorry you’re hurt, man. I’m sending healing thoughts yer way, and hanging out with the irony of the dangers of playing it safe.
I can relate. As I was being extra careful and ‘safely’ trying to maneuver around a fallen log on a very steep downhill on the Deschutes River Trail below Dillon falls, my bike got hung up on something and I went right over my bike and impaled my arm on a 1/4 branch. I removed my arm from the branch and blood ran freely from a severed vein. Luckily I was only half a mile from the car park and boat put-in and some very friendly recreationists, one of whom drove me and my bloody bike down to the BMC urgent care for some stitches.
I always tell myself, ‘I have to go to work on Monday’ So I try to be careful, but there are those freak accidents, just waiting for you in the middle of nowhere.
Heal up Woody! our thoughts are with you and a care package is on the way!
Hay did you ever think of taking up Jacks.
Sunday the wife an I tuck a ride out to sheep bridge an on hi 43 there were people riding there bikes in the MIDDEL of the road there are people pulling there boats an there trailer.The people on these bikes have no idea how close they are to dying.They are asking four it. If a truck comes around the corner going one way pulling a boat an a truck pulling trailer coming the other way.I don’t want to be the bike. Because there is no place to go.
I’m discovering that one of Life’s major challenges is finding ways to gracefully and slowly exit the sharing of risky but beloved activities with my best buddies whether it be rock climbing, mountain biking or mountaineering while simultaneously avoiding serious injury. I see you are faced with the same challenge. Any advice for me besides going cold turkey and taking up Jacks, Tiddlywinks or golf?
Gee, another fun-filled weekend, eh?
This story illustrates why Central Oregon is indeed paradise — for orthopedic surgeons.