On Monday, May 28th, I paddled the C-to-G section of the American River with a small Gold Country Paddling crew--six of us in total. In preparation for this trip, I worked with an NLP practitioner around my fear of kayaking. I love the sport, but I often get freaked out on the river in a way that far exceeds the actual danger. He asked me if there were any concerns before he "fixed the phobia"--in other words, would it be OK with me if I didn't have fear on the river? I've been a river guide for 12 years, know the dangers of the river, and know the protocols of how to protect myself and others, so I saw no problem with giving up a phobia. We had a 20-minute session, and two weeks later, I went to the river curious about what would happen...
On the river: I was surfing in Barking Dog. Now that I have a more trustable roll, I'm starting to really get in there, feel more freedom on the river, and have fun! In fact, it was one of the first times on the river that I hadn't felt fear. It was my second time back in the hole, and I was having a jolly good time. This time, after I got spit out upside down, I had trouble setting up for my roll and I totally missed my first attempt. The water was quite chaotic, and my boat didn't seem to get settled, and I missed my second roll. As I started to get bumped around by rocks and the water became shallower, I said to myself "I'm outta here" and wet-exited. That was my first mistake.
Lesson 1: Staying in the boat really does seem to be safer than swimming. As a swimmer--out of my boat--I was getting beat up by the rocks pretty good and was probably in a more dangerous position than upside down in my boat. Because it was so rocky, I was in avoidance mode, trying to stay in the current and focusing on keeping my feet up and out of the rocks, while also trying to protect my pelvis. Rather than wet-exiting so quickly, I think a much better choice would have been to setup again and go for a third, and maybe fourth roll, even with all the rocks and shallow water.
After a while, I ended up in a rocky shelf, where I was able to perch on a rock and resist the current, even though I was still in the middle of the river. Another GCPer passed by me with my boat in tow. I was in the middle of the river and couldn't get to the bank from where I was, and with my boat now downriver, I decided to follow my kayak down, so I let go of my perch and put myself back in the flow, thinking I'd swim to the next eddy below. I missed that eddy, and ended up going over a really shallow rapid. I was pushing off rocks with my feet trying to protect my backside, but my toe got caught in a small crevice, and I was pushed up and over the rock. My foot was bent backwards underneath myself, and I to avoid breaking it, I ended up nose-diving head-first down the river. It wasn't quite a foot entrapment, but I now better understand how foot entrapments happen, and how quickly they occur.
Lesson 2: At one point, I was stopped. Rather than making a quick decision to follow my boat down the river, I should have stayed stopped, gotten a better perspective, and given my crew time to get in a better position to help me. Instead, I made a quick decision to follow my boat, when in truth, it just wasn't necessary to make a quick decision, and I should have taken more time to assess the situation.
Lesson 3: My third lesson is to remember to respect the river--in whatever class rapid I may be. If I had respected the power of the river, I would have tried harder to stay in my boat, and I certainly would have stayed perched on the rocky shelf rather than getting back in the flow. It's only because I wasn't respecting the power of the river (it wasn't a class IV or V) that I made the choices I did.
The sprain was bad, but I've been a WFR for 12 years--I retrain every two years--and an EMT was also on the trip. There was no crepitus in the ankle, there was very little pain, there was no point tendernous, and I had good CSMs (circulation, sensation, and movement.) I could stand on the leg just fine, and I could walk OK as long as I took very small steps. The only other issues were that there was a lot of swelling and my ankle mobility was low. So, it didn't seem necessary to go to the ER. They would just tell me to rest it, ice it, elevate it, and use compression and IB Profin to reduce the swelling. And I was leaving for St. Louis the next day to lead a Communication program, so I didn't have time to go see my regular doctor.
For six days, I limped around using a cane to support my bad ankle, but the swelling continued. A week later, I went on a camping trip, and went on a short stroll--about 1 mile each way. When I got back, the foot swelled even more, which seemed out-of-the-ordinary, and so I decided to see a doctor to find out what was going on internally. After the doctor took x-rays, she walked into my examination room with a smile and said, "Well, you walked in here, but you’re not walking out. I don't know if you're just completely determined or if you have a very high tolerance for pain, but your leg--your fibula to be precise--is broken in two places--clean across the bone. I’m shocked that you have been walking on it. My guess is that the tendons in your foot must be strong, because when your foot bent back, rather than the tendons releasing, they held on tight and literally pulled the fibula apart. " I was shocked: "Broken?" And the break was not in my foot nor in my ankle--the breaks are on the lower leg, four inches above the ankle.
Lesson 4: If there's any doubt, get x-rays! No matter how minor the symptoms present, when there is sufficient mechanism of injury, you just don't know what's going on inside (unless you have x-ray vision.)
So, I'm in a cast and on crutches for the next 8 weeks, and am exploring my relationship to my body, which allowed me to be oblivious to the extent of the injury for a week. I've canceled my backpacking tips, put my flying test on hold, and pushed my move to Nevada City back to September... But, I'm taking it all in stride, and with all this new free time, I hope to make major advances in my book over the next few months. I am interested to see how this experience continues to unfold and the lessons that I will continue to learn.
