A cheerful woman and her husband overtook my indifferent pace at the top of Section 16 at Bear Creek Park.
“I like your bucket hat,” she called as they passed. I admired her sunny atmosphere.
After about 45 minutes I ran into them again, but now they were curled up like a shrimp in dirt. Her frantic husband crouched next to her, trying to comfort and help her when she had a medical emergency. It was not clear what was going on. Three other tourists stood aside, also unsure of what to do.
I recognized her blonde hair and all black outfit, but now she was a shell of her former self – shaking, moaning, freezing, throwing up, saying she was going to pass out and how scared she was. It was a horrifying scene and my heart went out to this stranger who certainly didn’t expect to find herself sprawled out in the woods feeling like her body was going to implode on a Sunday afternoon.
It’s hard to know what to do in moments like this when you’re exposed to someone in shock and pain. Your muscles are twitching and your mind is racing with all the ways you can be useful. I offered water, snacks, grapes. No, she wouldn’t eat or drink anything. I offered to run down and try to get better cell service, but luckily one of the other hikers was able to get through to 911 even though she was put on hold due to the volume of calls for service.
When the dispatcher called a few minutes later, she was able to tell them the location, which was about a mile off Gold Camp Road.
I didn’t have much to do, but I stayed put, just like the other tourists. Sometimes all you can offer is your presence and comfort.
And even though the sick woman didn’t want to be moved from her spot on the dirt, the group felt the need to move her off the trail as quickly as possible. Her husband picked her up and headed downstairs, taking turns carrying her with another man who came over to offer help. Between the two, she was carried to High Drive near Gold Camp Road, where we were met by a trio of EMTs with stretchers.
We all left a few there, we didn’t want to be rubbernecks or the crowd. No names or information were exchanged so I don’t know what happened. I hope he is ok.
I thought about it for a long time afterward—how we decide to help or not to help in a crisis, to run toward rather than away, and how people are pretty decent when you get down to it. How this group of strangers wanted to help and did it in their own little ways: calling 911, giving her a sweater because she was freezing, praying for her. And then a complete stranger helped carry her a mile down the trail. It took a small village to help her.
It also reminded me to bring a few extra things on hikes, in case of future emergencies: low blood sugar candy, an extra layer of clothing, air-activated hand warmers, maybe electrolyte packs, and always plenty of water.
And somewhat off topic, but I also decided to carry a portable dog water bowl when I was rambling through the woods this summer. I’ve seen too many big, hairy dogs walk past me on 90 degree days without their owner having some water and natural water sources a few miles away. And that just puts a damper on my hikes, so from now on, if I see a panting pooch and I don’t have water, I’ll pull out my collapsible bowl and become a dog bartender.
Our animals also deserve a village.
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