The seriousness of the situation hit me. I was alone, on singletrack, hidden amongst the scrub oak. I had told my wife where I was going, but I only said, "Horse Gulch." Horse Gulch covers more than 2,200 acres and 65 miles of trails. It was about 6:15 p.m.; sunset was in a bit more than an hour. It was spring, I was sitting at 6,500-feet elevation, and I didn't have a jacket. It was going to get cold very quickly and I was likely to go into shock soon.
How the hell am I going to get out of here?
I screamed.
A strong urge to get out came over me and made me feel jumpy. I looked at the bike and figured I could use it like a rolling crutch. I could tear my shirt and grab a few sticks to splint my leg. There wasn't much singletrack left, but what remained was twisty, rocky and loose. The risk of further injury was high.
I screamed again.
"Are you okay?"
A voice. Close. A man and woman, hiking toward me.
"No, I broke my leg."
She asked, "Do you have a phone? We didn't bring ours."
How to Treat a Wound on the Trail
A phone. I forgot I had a phone. All things considered, I thought I had been pretty clear-headed and rational. I wasn't. My first thought was a risky self-rescue—I hadn't considered the phone in my pocket.
She dialed 911 and soon Fire and Rescue is on the way. The man hiked down to the main road to help guide them toward me. The woman, Kathy, was calm and sweet and stayed with me. I apologized for ruining her hike.
When they arrive, rescuers strap me into The Levitator. It's an off-road gurney that rolls on an ATV tire and, I noted with some pleasure, is equipped with an Avid BB7 disc brake and Cane Creek Cloud 9 shocks. They loaded me into the ambulance and two hours after my crash I was safe in an emergency room.
I made many mistakes, but I got lucky: I was tired and still a bit sick, I was riding unfamiliar equipment, I was pushing too hard, I didn't give my wife a detailed ride plan, I was riding alone, I wasn't well prepared—the list goes on. And when the injury happened, I convinced myself I was thinking straight when I wasn't. My situation could have turned out worse, but I was fortunate: There were people around, I was close to a trailhead, and there was cellular service.
But you shouldn't rely on luck in an emergency. These tips can help you handle a potentially dangerous situation in the woods. I hope you never need them.
Remember, you are probably not as calm as you think you are. If alone, take a few deep breaths before making any decisions.
Carry a mobile phone. It is one of the best tools to available in an emergency, as long as the battery is charged and cell service is available. If you're trying to escape the office, don't leave the phone in the car, mute it. Keep it dry in a waterproof drybag—I like the Jersey Bin.
Use the buddy system. When you're hurt a (competent) friend can save your ass, especially if you're unconscious and can't initiate a rescue.
Communicate. Tell a friend or loved one where you're going, or write it down where someone can easily find the information. Provide precise details: 'I'll be riding in Sedona,' will be little help if you don't return when scheduled. Tell someone exactly what trails, roads, or route you're riding and don't deviate. Provide a start time and when you expect to finish. When you're done, let somebody know.
More: Overcoming an Injury
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