The afternoon begins well. After work I head over to the Blodgett Peak open space for some trail running and hiking with our dogs, Shobi and Samson. This is a great trail system a few miles from our house that ends at some rocky peaks with great views of the city. A nice rain shower cools us off on the way up, and after about 2 miles and 3000 vertical feet, I decide it is time to head back. The retreating storm leaves a bright rainbow over the city... wish I had brought a camera. Sadly, the rainbow was not an omen of good things to come.
I choose a slightly different route down the mountain, heading toward a ravine carved by a small creek, because I know after about half a mile I'll hit the trail that runs along this creek. There is technically no trail where I am now, but I know where I am going. (As I would soon learn, there is no trail here for a reason, and I did NOT know where I was going.) I start my jog down. After a few minutes of descending, I heard a loud "SNAP" and simultaneously realized that this noise came from my ankle as it rolled all the way over to the right, far past any natural angle for an ankle to bend. I fall to the ground, where I get over the initial pain/shock, then slowly try to put weight on the leg. The nerves in my foot tell me at once they are in no mood to be walked on. So I'm 2 miles up a very steep trail, have not seen another soul all day, am tending to two dogs, and have sprained my ankle so badly that I can't walk. Awesome. I call Shelah and tell her I'll be late for dinner. She offers to hike up and help me, but being such a rugged masculine specimen, I could never entertain such a preposterous idea. "It seems okay", I lie, "I'll be fine once I start walking."
I slide over to the nearest pile of tree branches and find one that can support my weight. I gingerly stand, using the branch as a crutch, and start slowing hobbling down the mountain. It's actually not too bad after I start going. Turns out the whole "walk it off" advice is pretty solid. I'm concentrating intently on each step and trying to find the easiest route down into the ravine. The way to the left looks promising, but pushing aside a few trees reveals a massive vertical drop in that direction. No luck there, I'll turn more right, into the brush, where my dogs are heading... Wait, where are........
Then I hear the sounds that are replaying relentlessly in my head as I write this. The small splash and the sliding of rock. The yelp of a dog. The silent pause, and the thundering crash of what sounds like boulders slamming against rocks and trees somewhere far away. "COME!", I scream in panic. Out of the bushes appears Samson... alone. "SHOBI!" ... Silence. "SHOBI!" ... Nothing. "No, no, no, no..." repeats in my head, probably out loud too. I tear through the bushes to see the same massive drop off in this direction. "No, no, no, no..." I can't get much closer to the edge of this cliff with Samson beside me, but I glance at the slippery edge long enough to know for sure that Shobi went over, and there is absolutely no way I can go down there. I frantically, hysterically begin running up a ridge that later slopes down around the side of this valley, looking for any way to the floor below. I have no need for the make-shift crutch now; the pain in my ankle is gone, or is dwarfed by other pain. I try turning down off the ridge, only to find another sheer cliff drop... so back up and around, panicking, screaming my dog's name, looking below, seeing nothing.
This moment was terror for me. I'm not too proud to admit that I was crying. My dogs are my kids right now, and there was no way Shobi could be okay. I was looking DOWN at the TOPS of pine trees growing below. This was a huge fall. Best I could hope for was a badly broken dog, whimpering but still alive. But my mind only filled with the darker images, and those I won't describe here. There was still no way down. The entire valley was a canyon... steep, sheer and deep. At this point, I knew I would need help when I found Shobi, one way or the other. So I took a deep breath and called Shelah. "I need you to come up to Blodgett Peak right now. Shobi fell, and I can't find her." I think it came out as calmly as I wanted, but Shelah told me later she had never heard me so freaked out. (By the way, if you know Shelah, you know that making this phone call is equally as stessful as the thought of what I would find in that canyon....She loves our kids as much as I do.) Anyway, Shelah was on her way.
Finally, I come to a slope down into the ravine! Sampson and I pick an angle down into the valley, sliding as we hustle down the steep slope. We reach the creek at the bottom, and sure enough, there is the trail I was hoping for. (Only I wasn't hoping for the 50 foot cliff faces that preceded it.) I scream for my dog and look up the creek toward the rock wall. "SHOBI!". Still nothing. I begin scrambling up the stream bed, when behind me Sampson lets out a loud bark. I turn and follow his eyes down the trail to.... Shobi. In the middle of the trail, just standing, almost waiting for us. She is completely covered in mud and shaking, but ALIVE! I cannot tell you the wave of relief that sweeps over my body. Unreal. I run my hands and eyes quickly over her legs, back, and stomach to check for blood and breakage. Nothing! Are you kidding??? So we again start our descent. She is limping badly, but she isn't crying or keeping weight off any legs; this is 1000 times better than I imagined. I call Shelah right away to tell her Shobi is okay, but having trouble walking.
By this time, Shelah has made it to the parking lot at the trailhead 1.5 miles below. A dirt service road follows the trail up about 1 mile, and Shelah wants to drive up this road to pick us up. Only problem... a locked gate prevents her from doing so. So she calls the park services, but they are closed. She calls 911 and explains the situation, something like: "My husband sprained his ankle hiking Blodgett Peak, and he's trying to get our two dogs down, one of which is hurt too. Can someone come open this gate so I can drive up the trail to meet him." Apparently it was a slow emergency night in Colorado Springs, because this call resulted in 1 ambulance, 1 police car, 2 fire trucks, 1 fire engine with an alpine rescue crew, and 1 HELICOPTER. No kidding, they were looking for me with a helicopter! I'm quite special. A fire truck comes up the road and carries Shobi and me down to the parking lot, while a nice EMT lady walks Samson down the rest of the way. At the base, they check my vitals, give me an ice pack, and tell me how to take care of the sprain. These people are honestly outstanding... they treated me with a smile, asking if there is anything else they could do, even offering to drive my car home for me. All this for a sprained ankle?! I know we are in GREAT hands if a serious emergency ever arises.
Of course, concerned parents Shelah and I hurry Shobi right to the 24 hr vet clinic. After 2 hours of exams, x-rays, and blood work the final diagnosis is: a broken tooth, a sprained/bruised shoulder or knee, a small cut, many sore muscles. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, nothing! This dog is something else. It makes me wonder what really happened after she went over that cliff. Did she hit a ledge after 10 feet then scramble down? Did it slope down more gently than I could see and she rolled? Did she fall vertically, but land in a big pool of mud, absorbing the impact? When my foot heals, I'm heading back up there to see for myself (without the dogs, this time!)
So, boys and girls, what have we learned from our adventure today?
Lesson #1: Do not let your dogs off-leash if you are not familiar with an area
Lesson #2: Do not let your dogs out of your sight when they are off-leash
Lesson #3: Dogs can fly
Lesson #4: Colorado Springs emergency response is the real deal
Lesson #5: Don't use the side of your foot like the bottom of your foot. That hurts.