Five Staples

The Tetons from Hurricane Pass

The summer morning air was crisp in Grand Teton National Park, with just an edge of chill, hinting at the colder weather to come.  Gray shadows obscured the details of the pines along the trail we were about to follow.  Our group of about 50 hikers unloaded from the bus, ready to go.  Our group consisted of about 35 teenage boys and around 15 adults.  My son, Matt, was part of the group and wanted to hike with the faster advance group, so I joined in to spend time with him and his friends.

The gravel crunched beneath our boots as we left the parking area and began gaining elevation on our way to Hurricane Pass.  The trail led along a glassy lake where the sun was just now starting to burn off the thin mist.  After about 10 minutes of hiking, I noticed some movement in the water.  A cow moose and her calf were swimming to shore.  Minutes later they emerged and trotted up the hill, crossing the trail about 50 yards ahead of me.  We all stopped to enjoy the moment as the mother herded her baby into cover.  Later, we would see two more moose, both bulls in velvet, one of which was uncomfortably close.

The trail took a steep turn up into Cascade Canyon.  The thick pines eventually yielded to rocky outcroppings and berry choked bushes.  We browsed on wild raspberries and huckleberries that stained our fingers as we climbed.  By this point, the Grand Teton was nearly overhead.  I paused occasionally, photographing the summit and innumerable waterfalls with my Nikon Z7.  My Peak Design Capture hung on my backpack’s strap,  making it easy for my camera to remain accessible.  

By this point, our large group had naturally splintered into smaller groups.  There was a fast-moving group ahead of me while the bulk of the group was strung out behind me, the elevation and steep trail taking its toll.  Matt and his friend Gavin were willing to put up with my frequent stops to photograph the area.  The three of us followed the trail as it zig zagged through the canyon, causing us to use rustic, rough hewn log bridges to cross the turbulent stream.

As we approached another stream crossing, the boys decided to hop from rock to rock to cross the relatively shallow stretch of water.  Looking uphill to the right, I saw a bridge and took the few steps up to the top and began to walk across.  The bridge was about 4 feet above the water, so I began to cross and casually called out to the boys below.  I took a step, and then everything turned black.

The aftermath

The sound of water woke me up.  My eyes opened to see my camera still attached to my shoulder strap, but partially submerged in the stream.  For some reason I was laying belly down in the creek with my left arm between two boulders.  I began to stand up to get my camera out of the water.  As I stood, my head began to throb.  Matt was staring at me.

“Are you OK?” he asked.  Gavin stood by him unsure of what to say.

“I think so.  What happened?”  I said stepping out of the stream, though it was pretty obvious.

“You fell off the bridge!  As you fell, you twisted in the air and your backpack hit the boulders.”

That explained the ache in my back as well as the throbbing on the back of my head.  I reached out to touch the painful area on my skull.  Blood.  Lots of blood.

“Do either of you have a clean sock I could use?”  Before the hike, I had told the boy to bring a fresh pair of socks in case they needed to change them at the summit to keep their feet dry and avoid blisters.  Now, it looked like we would need them for something else.

“I do,” said Matt, fishing a fresh pair out of his pack.  

I took the sock and folded it into a rough square.  By this point the blood was making a mess of my pack, my shirt, even my thin beard.  I pulled my hat off and took in the blood-soaked fabric.  This was not good.  I pressed the sock against my scalp and held it there for a few minutes.  Miraculously, the bleeding stopped.  A large puddle of blood lay at my feet.  Later, I would hear that one of the other adults would see it and compare it to the blood trail of an elk that had been hit hard by an arrow.

I jammed my hat back on to hold the sock in place.  I could still walk, my senses were all wide awake, and I could think clearly.  I drank a lot of water and ate a bag of Doritos to help replace the volume of blood I had lost.  We were 8.5 miles in on a 21 mile hike.  At this point, it was easier to summit and hike down than try and go back, so that is what we did.

The rest of the hike was relatively uneventful.  We met up with some of our group at the summit of Hurricane Pass, and my appearance certainly prompted more than a few questions.  We made it down to the parking area in Teton Canyon where my truck was waiting for me.  All the boys in my group were there ready to go, so we drove back to camp.  Luckily, one of the other adults back at camp was a pediatrician who had a comprehensive medical kit.  He numbed me up, cleaned the wound, and stapled the gash closed with five staples while a crowd of 12 year olds watched in fascination.  

Two years later, I did the same hike again and looked at the bridge and the boulders where I fell.  A few inches in any direction could have ended tragically.  I said a silent prayer as I continued toward the summit, thanking my Maker for allowing me more time with my loved ones.

Gavin and Matt, left to right