08-16-2022, 01:24 AM
It seemed a good idea at the time.
LCF and I have been debating doing a more challenging hike of late. The hills out behind Shoreline Theater are nice, but they seldom give us cardio. At least according to our fitbits.
So we decided to do Rancho San Antonio, something we used to do on occasion before my hip operations and balance issues. LCF gave me a choice. The standard hike or the ninja back entrance. The ninja back entrance isn't well-known, so it's kinda nice that way. But it's a steep trail from the get-go. For whatever reason I chose the ninja back entrance.
It's a hot day, so we're careful to take water bottles. LCF suggests I walk on the side of her away from the steep drop-off. But it's a wide trail, and I do okay. We're soon drenched, and my fitbit better give me cardio for this. Because I push myself. In fact, I suppose I kinda overdo it.
We get near the top where things level out and I'm beat. I think I'm very close to heat exhaustion. LCF suggests we push on a spell. I tell her I've had it, but will wait while she pushes on alone. She does, and I find a cool place in the shade and try to recover. I drink a little water, but have no thirst, which is a dangerous sign. I just need to rest, and cool down. By the time LCF returns maybe 20 minutes later, I feel better, and I'm even drinking water. It's a little hard standing up, but then I'm ready to venture down. That should be easier, except for one thing. It's easy to slip and fall on the loose dirt and pebbles. It's happened in the past, and there's no warning. The steeper parts are the most treacherous. LCF walks beside me, and on bad slopes she has her arm out, so I can grab hold of it if I slip. She also wants me to hold my water bottle in the hand hand opposite her, so I'll have a free hand to grab her with.
I'm descending with all due caution, and I only slip now and then.
Then it happens. We're on a medium slope, certainly not the worst, and there's a slip. But it's not me. LCF goes down suddenly into a sitting position, feet shooting out front. As she hits the ground, we both hear a snap. As near as I can recall, this happens about 4:30 pm. I help pull LCF gingerly to her feet. It's painful, and she puts as little weight on the foot as possible. I look around for branches to be used as crutches. There are none. I try to help support her, but she shoos me off. With my balance issues, I'm not a reliable crutch. We proceed down the trail very slowly, with me looking for branches. Sometimes I see one, but it's out of reach on the steep down-slope to the left or on the steep up-slope to the right. Finally we come to a relatively flat section where I can venture off the trail and get branches that sort of work as crutches. We continue downward. I go ahead and knock at the trailer at the bottom of the trail, but no one answers. We were hoping the gate could be unchained and I could drive a ways up the trail to pick her up sooner. No dice.
I figure she walked at least an hour on that foot, trying to do so as gingerly as possible. Then I drove her home, where we did the Big Kaiser dance on the phone, and finally I just drove her to the Emergency Room on Homestead. Eventually it got diagnosed as a broken fibula.
We got home about 9:30 pm. It was an eventful outing.
LCF and I have been debating doing a more challenging hike of late. The hills out behind Shoreline Theater are nice, but they seldom give us cardio. At least according to our fitbits.
So we decided to do Rancho San Antonio, something we used to do on occasion before my hip operations and balance issues. LCF gave me a choice. The standard hike or the ninja back entrance. The ninja back entrance isn't well-known, so it's kinda nice that way. But it's a steep trail from the get-go. For whatever reason I chose the ninja back entrance.
It's a hot day, so we're careful to take water bottles. LCF suggests I walk on the side of her away from the steep drop-off. But it's a wide trail, and I do okay. We're soon drenched, and my fitbit better give me cardio for this. Because I push myself. In fact, I suppose I kinda overdo it.
We get near the top where things level out and I'm beat. I think I'm very close to heat exhaustion. LCF suggests we push on a spell. I tell her I've had it, but will wait while she pushes on alone. She does, and I find a cool place in the shade and try to recover. I drink a little water, but have no thirst, which is a dangerous sign. I just need to rest, and cool down. By the time LCF returns maybe 20 minutes later, I feel better, and I'm even drinking water. It's a little hard standing up, but then I'm ready to venture down. That should be easier, except for one thing. It's easy to slip and fall on the loose dirt and pebbles. It's happened in the past, and there's no warning. The steeper parts are the most treacherous. LCF walks beside me, and on bad slopes she has her arm out, so I can grab hold of it if I slip. She also wants me to hold my water bottle in the hand hand opposite her, so I'll have a free hand to grab her with.
I'm descending with all due caution, and I only slip now and then.
Then it happens. We're on a medium slope, certainly not the worst, and there's a slip. But it's not me. LCF goes down suddenly into a sitting position, feet shooting out front. As she hits the ground, we both hear a snap. As near as I can recall, this happens about 4:30 pm. I help pull LCF gingerly to her feet. It's painful, and she puts as little weight on the foot as possible. I look around for branches to be used as crutches. There are none. I try to help support her, but she shoos me off. With my balance issues, I'm not a reliable crutch. We proceed down the trail very slowly, with me looking for branches. Sometimes I see one, but it's out of reach on the steep down-slope to the left or on the steep up-slope to the right. Finally we come to a relatively flat section where I can venture off the trail and get branches that sort of work as crutches. We continue downward. I go ahead and knock at the trailer at the bottom of the trail, but no one answers. We were hoping the gate could be unchained and I could drive a ways up the trail to pick her up sooner. No dice.
I figure she walked at least an hour on that foot, trying to do so as gingerly as possible. Then I drove her home, where we did the Big Kaiser dance on the phone, and finally I just drove her to the Emergency Room on Homestead. Eventually it got diagnosed as a broken fibula.
We got home about 9:30 pm. It was an eventful outing.