What have you done in the mountains that could have resulted in a rescue, but didn't?

[mtnpa]

Downhill skiing at Killington, last run of the day. My buddy sees untracked powdah in open woods off the trail. He is unable to resist and I follow him through the trees. Soon we are well below the ridge where the trail is. As daylight wanes I get out the map and realize there is no trail below us. We try to work back toward the trail but deep snow and thick spruce growth make this imposssible. Put the skis back on and head down. Fortunately we come out on a service road then posthole back to civilization.

Hiking Owls Head in winter. Coming back across the top from the new summit. There is a 10 foot dip just before the trail goes between two trees. As I pop through the trees I meet the butt end of a fallen tree with my chest. The next ten minutes are spent slumped over the tree first trying to get my breath back then shaking off the cobwebs. Made the long hike out and it only hurt for a couple months.

XCskiing up the back side of Wildcat from Carter Notch Rd. Bluebird day with tons of snow. Shortly after we begin to descend I catch an edge and tear my hamstring. I remember lying in the snow fighting the urge to pass out as waves of heat surge through my body. Eventually I get up and try to ski. As soon as I torque the leg I go down and feel blood pressure drop. One more try ends among the trees since I can’t turn. After several deep breaths I remember an ace bandage in my First-Aid kit. I wrapped that sucker around my leg as tight as I could. This gave enough support to ski gingerly to the trailhead.

Friends consider me a safe hiker.
It can happen to anyone.

 

[SherpaWill]

First snow trip in April '92. The plan was to go from Ethan Pond to Mt. Lafayette in five days. First 2 days we had great weather. We camped at Ethan Pond and above Zealand Falls. By the end of day 3 the weather turned and we spent a long night dug in somewhere between Guyot and South Twin. We were all soaked from head to toe, due to our lousy gear and the waterproofing on our Sorels wearing off. The next day was a 13 hour slog out in the rain/sleet/snow/wind. We went over North Twin and down North Twin Trail, which we lost several times along the way. When we made it to the Little River it was impassable, so we had to bushwhack out, jumping across tributaries that were overflowing. I think we all fell in one at least once. Soaked, we finally made it to the end of Haystack Rd. By the time we walked out to route 3 and hitched back to our car at Willey's we were physically and mentally exhausted. We planned poorly were very lucky we didn't end up lost, hurt or hypothermic. I learned a lot from that trip on what and what not to do. Two almost funny things I learned, you can get a sun burn on the roof of your mouth and you can burn snow when you melt it for drinking water.

 

[NeoAkela]

A beautiful mid-summer day with a clear forecast - perfect day for a hike. A friend whom I had recently introduced to the mountains says he is now eager to try a 4K peak, so I suggest Mooselauke. Now, this guy tips the scales at well over 300 pounds, but he is an avid skiier and I've been on smaller hikes with him that he has handled well. I don't anticipate a problem.

Day starts great heading up Gorge Brook, finally hitting the summit at 1 PM. After a lunch stay on top, we head over to South Peak, arriving at 2. Soon, we start our descent via the Carriage road.

I hang back for a bit to call home to report our progress. No signal - no surprise there. I hurry ahead to catch up with my friend, who I find sitting on a rock with a bemused look on his face, rubbing his ankle.

"I tripped", he said. "I think I twisted my foot or something".

It didn't take long to realize it was worse than that. Putting any weight down on his foot was causing extreme pain. We were above 4000 feet with several miles between us and the bottom of the mountain. With a 300+ pound patient who couldn't stand on one foot. Suddenly, the fun summer day flipped completely upside down.

My friend, in a bit of a panic, asked if we could "call for a helicopter", or get a crew to come up with a stretcher. The first was not an option, and I knew from experience that any crew called out for that mission would be in for a miserable time. I also wasn't looking forward to Channel 9 meeting us at the bottom.

At that point, I realized several other things. Due to the great weather forecast, I had not packed a map, nor a GPS or compass, nor extra food or water for emergencies. Nor had I checked my friend's pack to see that he had not packed any warm clothing. A great guide I was turning out to be!

We fashioned a rudimentary splint and crutch out of what was around us and I convinced him to hobble downtrail, one agonizing step/hop at a time, keeping the weight off the one foot. I think I could count to 10 between each step.

Fortunately, I had brought several headlamps which we soon strapped on. Prior to this, I watched a beautiful sunset from the Carriage Road as I waited - but my mind was not in the mood for enjoying it. Instead, I became a cheerleader, coaxing and encouraging each step, carefully convincing and re-convincing that calling a crew was not needed - we could walk it out.

The night set in and with it came the cold air. I had brought extra clothes for myself, which I extended to my friend to use as best he could - they were a bit too small, though. The steps went incredibly slow.... I could not believe how many freaking steps were needed to descend that mountain!

Further down, in the dark, I am looking for the Snapper Trail which from memory takes a left turn off Carriage Road to the base lodge. To miss this turn in the dark would mean descending Carriage to a point far from the car. Since I stupidly left the map at home, I have no idea where the trail is going to be, so I agonize that we have missed it for hours. Still no cell service, so I envision my family calling 911 to report my absence. Good thing I won't be home to see myself on the 11 o'clock news.

Finally, the Snapper trail! The rejoicing is short-lived, however, as the Snapper also seems to go on for eons. Oh - and did I mention that not once do we meet a single person on the way down? Where did the 30 people we saw on the summit get off to?

1:30 AM - almost 12 hours since leaving the summit - we reach the Lodge where a party is goin-on. I grabbed the first kid I saw and informed him I was driving my car down to get my friend as we were not walking one more freaking step. No argument there. Soon we were on our way.... finally got a cell signal and was relieved to hear that no authorities had been called! Diagnosis was a broken foot with several months in a boot. I came away with a greater appreciation for how quickly things can go wrong, and a thankfulness that the weather and other factors remained mild so as not to call attention to my lack of proper preparedness. There is an extra map and compass permanently enclosed deep in my pack, along with the emergency supplies and water. You'd think after 30 years of hiking I would have learned that already

 

[nyestreet]

Excellent thread! My story took place in Scotland, with my 2 sons. We were attempting to climb Ben Nevis via the CMD Arete, a roundabout route requiring good navagation skills. A nice sunny warm start evolved into a cool damp windy misty day as we gained elevation. A wrong turn took us to a dead end and the mist cleared for a few seconds, giving us a sighting of the proper route and the intimidating knife edge. We reached the beginning of the ridge and proceeded. My older son Jack was in his element and was bounding along, while my younger son Dan was quite nervous as we went along more cautiously. There were gusty winds and Dan was worried about being blown off the ridge, maybe a 1000' steep drop on either side. Jack was nearing the end of the knife edge when he stumbled, then cried out in pain. I hurried over to help, thinking this was a BAD place to get hurt. My son was grasping a large imbedded boulder doing squats telling me he's OK. Suddenly the boulder dislodged and my son lost his balance and tumbled down the edge. I thought I was going to watch him plunge to his death. Miraculously a strong gust of wind gave him enough gravity resistance to grasp the ground and clambor back up the 10' or so that he dropped (Jack's explanation). As he reached us, he was very agitated and asking if my foot was alright. Puzzled, I realized my ankle was SORE. The boulder had rolled over my foot, and I hadn't noticed probably due to adreneline rush. It was a BAD place to get hurt, we had seen only 1 other walker (going the opposite way) since leaving the tourist path. The easiest way to civilization was to continue the ascent over the Ben and take the tourist path out, maybe another 600' climb. We had no cell phone so calling for help was not an option, and frankly I didn't think it was necessary, I didn't know yet my leg was broken. 5 agonizing hours later we reached the Glen Nevis youth hostel where we were staying. All things considered a happy ending, altho our dream vacation was ruined. We flew home a few days later, my foot in a cast and highly impressed with the Scottish health care system, another story for a different thread.

 

[dug]

I came off the summit of Garfield, running to catch up with my older brothers. I was supposed to go right, but thinking I had already come off the cone, I went left. A family friend caught up to me as I was well on my way toward Lafayette.

I slipped coming down Owl's Head Slide, and after tumbling 20-30 feet, I came to with a smashed thumb, a knock on my head, and my dog licking my face.

I didn't make a tight turn on skis, and tumbled into a frozen drainage along the Mt. Marcy trail. No damage, and waddled my way back on trail without issue.

I broke a snowshoe deep in the Pemi, but managed to duct tape it back together to get back a-ok.

I broke through some ice, freezing both arms to their pits, and both legs to my crotch, and while it was uncomfortable, I was on my way out so it was OK.

Snowblindness off Mt. Jackson, but caught myself after a few minutes going down the wrong trail.

I have almost drowned in two swollen rivers.

Most of these were solo, pre-cell phone days.

 

[DMOutdoors]

Wow, these are all really great to read. It seems we all experience a wide variety of close calls.

Here are the two close calls that I can remember. Some of you may remember them from my blog. These were both last year in December and January, respectively:

I was nearing the end of an early December Pemi Loop last year. I was standing on the Garfield summit, and the sun was starting to go down. All I had to do was make it over the Franconia Ridge. What I thought would be easy because I felt I was familiar with the trail, turned into a mistake. When I had reached Lafayette's summit it was around 10pm, and there was some blowing snow. The winds and blowing snow were not treacherous, but somehow the long exposed ridge of Lafayette's shoulders, combined with my low energy and low water intake, made me not realize I was hiking back towards Garfield instead of descending towards Lincoln. I didn't realize it until it was about 12am, and I came upon the Garfield shelter 1/4 sign near the summit. I had no choice but to descend the Garfield Trail out to Route 3. It was around 3am when I finally was picked up by a guy my age headed to do a Presi Traverse that morning. It was a bad decision to continue on from Garfield with light fading, but I thought my familiarity of the Franconia Ridge and rest of the route would allow me to finish, despite the late time. However, my familiarity was no match for pitch-blackness and blowing snow. I was getting cold, and seriously contemplating just getting into my sleeping bag and emergency bivy in a snow hole somewhere. I was able to make sporadic cell contact with family members near Garfield summit to let them know I had trouble, and that I was going out to the road. I finally made contact again after I had been brought back to my car at Lincoln Woods, and re-gained cell service back at Kancamagus exit area.

If I had fallen during my climb of the Sluice area in Tuckerman Ravine last year (during moderate avalanche danger), I would have been the subject of a MWA bulletin like we're all reading now. I was asked by the rangers if I had avalanche equipment, and I said no. I told them I was going in to "check it out", but ended up strapping on the crampons and going for it anyways. Thrilling, yes, rewarding yes, stupid, well yes, I would probably say so now. I had just taken a basic winter climbing class with EMS, and learned basic crampon and ice axe techniques. I fared fine and felt pretty confident with how it all went, and that I did well. Just thankfully, the mountain didn't have other plans for me. It was one of the most thrilling climbs, but traveling solo in avalanche terrain (particularly the ravines) is something I most likely won't attempt again. I'd take someone up there to do the same thing again with me, but only with at least a beacon, probe, shovel, and knowledge on how to use them, and assess all of the risks properly.

 

[sierra]

I was desending a talus field when the slope let go, resulting in my ankle getting stuck while I kept going, result broken ankle. The worst of it was I was doing a traverse of two 14ers ( Shavano and Tabe) and I was on the second peak. I had to reclimb the first peak and hobble out, using my two trekking poles taped together as a crutch. I took 20 advil in the 14hrs it took me.
I was solo and nobody knew where I was, so that provided all the inspiration I needed to get myself out.

 

[IQuest]

Three situations that come to mind for me are:

January '01- We ascended, while breaking trail, up the North Slide of Mt Tripyramid in a set of Tubbs 30x10 snowshoes. It was two steps forward, one step sliding backwards. I remember clinging to every small tree and exposed rock that I could, not knowing for sure if my purchase on the snow/ice would hold or if I was going to slide all the way back to the bottom.

March '01- We lost the trail descending from Mt Eisenhower along Edmands Path. A closer look at the map shows that the trail actually goes uphill 50' while circling the summit cone. By the time we realized this we had lost too much elevation, climbed out of too many spruce traps, end were totally exhausted. We ended up on the ridge north of Edmands Path and decided to just drop into the drainage and try to relocate the trail once the terrain flattened out. There had to have been close to eight feet of snow in the drainage.

Christmas Eve '06- After a day of light rain I decided head up Falling Waters Tr to Little Hatstack/Lincoln/Lafayette. I was first up the trail and once above treeline I was treated with every tree and rock being covered in a thick 1/2" of ice and some very strong wind/poor visibility. I don't know why, but I decided to carry on and cross the ridge anyway. I had no traction other than the rubber on my boots and had to walk with one or two hands on the ground at all times. It was along this ridge that I realized how grave of a situation I was potentially in and how foolish it was. I made it to Lafayette and was very relieved that I made it down to Greenleaf Hut uninjured. At the hut all of the other tracks from the day had turned around and when I returned to the parking lot it was vacant other than my truck. I was very lucky that day.

Boy, I sure have done some foolish things in my youth.

 

[JacobH]

1) Last March on a very warm day returning from Jefferson I made a poor decision to cut off the ascent up to Clay by going through the "snowfield" (see: spruce trap field) to Jewell and postholed the entire way in my 32" Tubbs. I ran out of water about halfway and started melting snow. Luckily I was with friends and they were able to bail me out or else I probably would have sat there for an hour or 2 waiting for my snow to melt so I could continue. I was completely exhausted and dehydrated (and got a really bad sunburn, don't let anyone ever tell you you can't get sunburned in Winter in the Whites). If it wasn't an extremely warm day I would have been in trouble. Then again if it wasn't an extremely warm day I probably wouldn't have postholed every step and became exhausted. Lesson learned: 2 liters of water may not be enough even if that's what everyone else brings.

2) Flume Slide trail (alone) I slipped and slid probably 10 feet on my stomach and knees. Luckily this trail isn't exposed but I'm pretty sure I was the last one up for the day and no one would have found me until the next morning if I wouldn't have been able to call for help. I actually did injure my knee a bit and had to take a few months off to fully heal.

 

[expat]

About thirty years ago I and two friends hiked Tripyramid north slide in late November. About halfway up we realized that the verglas ice on the slabs was getting worse, and that hand and footholds were becoming scarce. We looked back, but we were clearly at a point where descent had become more dangerous than ascent. We tried the sides of the slide, but the thickness of the trees kept us from getting off the slide. We were using "spruce belay" by holding on to the small shrubs that grow in the cracks. At one point, while I was holding onto something the size of a low-bush blueberry, I lowered one of my legs, so my friend could use it to pull himself up to the small ledge I was edging on.

Somehow we made it to the top and realized how fortunate we were to not have slipped. We have since used "Tripyramid North" as a cautionary warning when one of us suggested something that we thought might be risky.