By Annie Lamberto
This story starts somewhere in history. Somewhere in my history. Somewhere when I lost brain cells dedicated to self-preservation, logic, and common sense. But, I won’t begin the story there…especially since I cannot figure out that time and place.
For the current story…I suppose it starts on a glorious 4-day trip into the Enchantments. I had never been there before and enjoyed every second of the trip. We hiked, headed to the top of Little Annapurna, saw the obligatory mountain goats, and basked in the amazing scenery. On the last day, while hiking out, I began to experience pain in my lower left leg. I cannot explain much more than that. By the time I returned home, later that day, my lower leg was swollen. My shin had a large, red knot and it was painful to walk.
Here’s where I caution all who are reading. The desire to continue with your plans does not mean you can change reality. Looking back, I am sure I believed, “If I pretend nothing is wrong, it’ll all work out.” I also pretended to take care of things. Upon returning from the Enchantments on Friday night, I practiced R.I.C.E. for a whole 24 hours. On Sunday, I went to a Feral Fit workshop at the gym—my leg wrapped in an ACE bandage, jumping, climbing ropes, and vaulting over obstacles. All the while, my leg was in pain and swollen. I’m sure you are wondering, “Why would you do that?” My response is simple:“I didn’t want to miss anything.”
With that at the forefront of my logic, on the following Tuesday, August 23, I headed up to assist on the Wonderland Trail Outing. The plan was aggressive and exciting. The Wonderland Trail circumnavigates Mount Rainier. The trail is 93 miles and has a cumulative 22,000 ft of elevation gain. By most accounts, the estimated 200 people who complete the entire trail each year take an average of 10–14 days. However, remember our outing was aggressive and exciting, and filled with those whom have a common philosophy: “Why take 10 days, when you can do it in 5?”
Our Wonderland Outing Team was led by Gary Bishop, assisted by me, and consisted of Terry Donahe, Sue Ann Koniak, Duane Nelson, and Brad Tollefson. The plan was set—Day 1: 17.6 miles, Day 2: 20.8 miles, Day 3: 18.9 miles, Day 4: 20.3 miles, and Day 5: 14.5 miles. Gary, Sue Ann and I met Brad and Duane the evening of August 23 at Cougar Rock campground. Terry arrived the next morning, August 24. We left the trailhead at approximately 9:30 a.m. on Wednesday, August 24. We were excited, clean, and amped with anticipation. I was also still hurting. I had decided that I was probably suffering from stress fractures in my shin. I mentioned it to Gary on the ride up to Rainier, quickly dismissing it as a problem, assuring him that everything was fine.
Within the first 7 miles of the hike, the pain in my leg and swelling increased. By mile 8, I was playing a mind game with myself, thinking, “Well, I can still do this for 5 days. I’ll ice it and rest in camp each night.” By mile 9, I was doing the math. “It will take just as much mileage to return to the trailhead as it will to get to camp.” I was limping and it didn’t seem to matter whether I was heading uphill or downhill. At a break, I quietly told Gary that things were deteriorating. As the limping increased, word spread among the group that I was injured.
I should take a moment to explain my personality. At my core, I am fiercely independent and extremely reluctant to be perceived as weak. Maybe it’s a girl thing…I don’t know. I’m also anti-social and commonly confused as to how I ended up in the Mazamas. I didn’t want to tell people that I was hurting and internally struggled with my desperate desire to not fail. Maybe this is a conflict common to climbers. Maybe we always ask ourselves, “When do we turn around, when do we keep pushing?” Maybe most climbers know how to answer that question. I apparently did not.
Sometimes, deep down, I consider myself an imposter, brazenly pretending to be something I am not, pretending to be a climber, a hiker, an adventurer, a Mazama. If I admit I am hurting, then people will see that I am a fraud, a fake, a failure. Sometimes, I am surprised that no one has noticed, that no one calls me on it, that I am accepted.
I do not mean to be so revealing, but I think it is important that we search our motivations, our passions, our desires, and our selves. I think, by nature, I want to become more aware of who I am…and why I sometimes act like an idiot.
Back on the trail, I kept going, still only on day one. I remember by mile 10, the wonderful Sue Ann turning to look at me, recognizing the look of pain on my face, and attempting to wrap her arms around me in a hug. I pushed her away, instantly realizing that I could not finish, that I wanted to cry, that I had failed.
At approximately mile 15, the team reached Klapatche Park Camp. It was not the destination for the night; we still had about 3 more miles to go to reach North Puyallup River Camp. However, I had reached my limit. I could not continue. At the break, I let Gary know I would be stopping. We reviewed my gear and considered my ability to self-evacuate. The team, which included experienced climbers, EMT’s, and WFR’s, felt comfortable about my ability to get out on my own. More importantly, I insisted on it, and felt comfortable in my ability to do so. We looked at the map to determine my plans for exiting the trail the next day. It was decided that I could leave Klapatche in the morning via the St. Andrews Trail. After about 3 miles, I would intercept the Westside Road, which would then take me about 8 miles to a trailhead where I would hope to get a ride back to Longmire. Since the Westside Road was closed to traffic, I would likely have to make it to the trailhead before finding a ride. I said goodbye to the team, and set up camp for the night. I was thankful to be alone. When my leg would spasm into a cramp, I could wail into the night. I couldn’t help it. I slept fitfully until morning, hoping that being off my leg would provide some relief in the morning.
I woke up on Thursday, August 25, feeling like I had been in the wilderness for weeks. I broke down camp and set off on the St. Andrews trail. I never saw anyone, was still limping, and had much time with my own thoughts. I wasn’t worried or concerned. As I continued down the trail, I was comforted by the fact that I had gear, food, and the ability to set up camp if needed. As I came upon the Westside Road, I was glad to have minimal elevation change. It was relatively flat and wide. After about 4 miles of slowly heading out, I told myself, “I can always set up camp and rest; I can take days to get out if needed.” I would stop and rest when the pain seemed unbearable, but since it didn’t seem to relieve anything, I often just kept going.
After about 5 miles on the Westside Road, a ranger’s truck was coming towards me. She stopped and asked what I was doing. I explained that I was on the Wonderland last night, but had to come out due to an injury. She asked if I needed help. I said it would be great if she could give me a ride back to Longmire.
Getting “rescued” by a National Park Ranger was an interesting experience. Ranger Turiya called in to dispatch informing them of the situation. She then requested my identification, permit number, and placed my gear in the back seat of the truck. I was frisked and questioned for weapons. I was then allowed in the truck. As we drove, we talked about being a ranger, conservation, and my injury. The drive seemed long and I came to realize I would have never made it out in one day had Ranger Turiya not arrived. I was dropped off in the Longmire parking lot and refused medical assistance. My Wonderland Trial adventure was over. I drove home.
Looking back, I am thrilled to have experienced the tiny bit of the Wonderland Trail that day. It was mesmerizing and amazingly beautiful. It left me with the anticipation of going back, which I plan to do next year….because I am a hiker, a climber, and an adventurer (and Mazama). I also caution all other adventurers to listen to your bodies…and don’t become an idiot like me.
Postscript: The Wonderland Team continued to complete the trail. I returned to the park on Sunday, August 28th to meet them at the trailhead. They were filled with stories of glaciers, bears, and lots of elevation. My leg remained swollen and painful for about 2 weeks.
