OnlyDirtRoads

The screw holding my leg together

On January 15th, I broke my leg.

A moment of inattention caused me to slip on an icy sidewalk, lose my balance and fall badly, landing worse. It was a “typical tib-fib” break and involved surgery. The fall not only broke two bones, but badly sprained my ankle and displaced the lower end of both the tibia and fibula. In order to wind up with a healthy ankle; it was necessary to run a screw through both bones; maintaining the correct spacing while the bones and soft tissue healed.

It sounded good in theory, but I was surprised when I saw the x-ray and the size of the screw used. I kept expecting the sharp end to poke through my skin!

For 9 weeks, I was on crutches and had to rent a car with an automatic.  While this sucked, it's pretty minor in the scheme of things. If this is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I'm ok with that. I'll be 100% eventually. I'll be back on my bike, and back in rivers, fishing. For a time I worked from home, thanks to FaceTime and awesomely understanding colleagues and clients. This is just a reminder that life can change in the blink of an eye. Make every day count!

 

A break....

After a six-month hiatus; I’m going to try to resuscitate this blog. I’ve had too much going on and something had to give.  Two months ago, I got a break I wasn’t really looking for…while walking to my truck, on a sidewalk in Boulder, I slipped on ice and broke my leg. After I fell, I wasn’t in pain, so I walked two blocks to my truck. My left ankle seemed stiff. I got into the FJ, started the engine and pushed in the clutch. It was then I realized something was wrong.

I drove to the ER, and learned there I’d broken my tibia and fibula and badly sprained my ankle.

So…so two months and a week, I was in a cast…no real exercise, couldn’t drive at all for a few weeks, then could only drive a rental with an automatic.

The FJ sat all that time; batteries getting lower and lower. Periodically, Nancy would run the engine for a while to try to keep ahead of the batteries.

This experience has many perspectives: helping me see the need to slow down; me realizing it’s OK to ask for help. And more.

Fishing with Moose

We’d fished most of the morning in the headwaters of a well-known river. At 10,000 feet; the river was more of a small stream; but the trout population was a great mix of eager brookies and shy but much larger cutthroat. While only a brisk two hour walk from pavement; the valley in which we were fishing sees few anglers; the fishing was easy and fun. With a #16 stimulator you could raise a fish on almost every cast, although the bigger cutts required sneaking up to the deeper bend pools on your knees.

 We had a blast fishing; interrupted by only one or two hikers passing through; one authoritatively announcing “There isn’t enough water in there for fish”. A second later a nice 10” brook trout took the fly with a loud splash…Mr. Fishing Expert wordlessly walked away. The fishing was so good, I became focused on the water; and we walked around this small alpine valley peering into the water looking for the tell-tale moving shadow of a trout in his feeding lane.

I pushed through the willows on the west bank and walked through the (barely) shin-deep stream. Nancy followed a bit behind me; gazing at the 13,000 ft peaks surrounding us.  As I stepped onto the far bank; a large female moose suddenly arose from the willows; obviously awakened from her mid-day nap. Nancy and I froze as the moose thrashed about; trying to ascertain what had startled her. We froze; and, as she looked about; we slowly and quietly crept backwards, using the willows on our side of the stream to shield us from her view. We sat on the ground and waited while the moose calmed down and eventually began munching on willows, slowly moving away from us, intent on finding the most tender willow shoots. Eventually, she was 100 yards downstream from us, seemingly intent on her snack. We stood up and began speaking loudly; she ignored us. I suggested we walk across the stream one at a time; just in case. If we got separated, we’d meet up at the ghost town a mile downstream.

I again waded through the willows and into the stream. Stepping onto the far bank; I could see two things happen at once: on my left, a small form stood up from the willows; a baby moose. At the same time, “mom” suddenly wheeled, snorted and ran at me. I sprinted up the bank; a steep scramble of 30 meters or so. The mother moose sped up the side of the bank; incredibly fast for such a large animal. She got the angle on me; but in doing so she ran into a large tangle of downed trees; I could hear branches breaking as I continued sprinting over the top of a ridge; and the beat of her hooves as she bore down on me. On my left was a large rock; I cut behind it to get out of her vision; and ran into a small stand of trees, and froze. I held my breath as she galloped past; and exhaled as she started to disappear down the other side of the ridge. As I did so, she stopped, wheeled to her left and charged at me. I held my breath again (a feat after sprinting uphill for 100 meters at 10,000 feet!) and she pulled up 30 feet short of me; her ears casting about for a clue and snorting loudly. She stamped the ground in front of her and walked in circles around the trees. I was shaking and my vision was blurring from holding my breath…I realized that I could not stay there long and hold my breath indefinitely. When she was 10 feet behind me, facing away from me; I took off down the way I’d come up, gasping for breath. Behind me, I could hear rocks scuttling across the ground and branches breaking. I fell/slid/scrambled down the bank; the moose was close enough to knock rocks past me. I splashed across the stream and sprinted for the heavier woods on the west side of the valley and, after a few seconds, realized that, if she was still chasing me, she would have caught me by then. A look over my shoulder revealed that she’d stopped where the calf was. Still shaken I ran into the woods and stood behind a large tree; and eventually walked downstream, through the trees to the ghost town where Nancy was nervously waiting. I looked over my shoulder all the way back to the car. To this day, I can’t remember how many fish I caught.