The cheery woman and her husband overtook my lackadaisical pace at the top of Section 16 in Bear Creek Park. “I like your bucket hat,” she called out as they gamboled by. I admired her sunny vibe.
About 45 minutes later, I came upon them again, only now she was curled up like a shrimp in the dirt. Her frantic husband crouched next to her, trying to comfort and help her as she had a medical emergency of some sort. It wasn’t clear what was happening. Three other hikers stood off to the side, also unsure what to do.
I recognized her blond hair and all-black outfit, but she was now a shell of her former self — shaking, moaning, freezing, throwing up, saying she was about to pass out and how scared she was. It was a frightening scene and my heart went out to this stranger who surely didn’t expect to find herself sprawled in the woods and feeling like her body was about to implode on a Sunday afternoon.
It’s hard to know what to do in moments like this, when you’re presented with someone in shock and pain. Your muscles twitch and your mind races through all the ways you can be helpful. 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 fortunately one of the other hikers was able to get through to 911, though she was put on hold due to a large number of calls for service.
When the dispatcher came on a few minutes later, she was able to give them the location, which was about a mile away from Gold Camp Road.
There wasn’t much for me to do, but I stayed put, as did the other hikers. Sometimes all you can offer is your presence and comfort.
And though the sick woman didn’t want to be moved from her spot on the dirt, the group felt she needed to be moved off the trail as quickly as possible. Her husband scooped her up and headed down, alternating carrying her with another male hiker who happened along and offered to help. Between the two, they carried her onto High Drive, close to Gold Camp Road, where a trio of EMTs met us with a stretcher.
We all left the couple there, not wanting to be rubberneckers or crowd the situation. There was no exchange of names or information, so I don’t know what happened. I hope she’s OK.
I thought about it for a long time afterward — how we do or don’t decide to be a helper in a crisis, to run toward rather than away, and how humans are pretty decent, when you get right down to it. How this group of strangers wanted to help and did, in their own tiny ways: calling 911, giving her a sweater because she was freezing, praying over her. And then a total stranger helped carry her a mile down the trail. It took a tiny village to get her help.
It also reminded me to carry a few additional items on hikes, just in case of future emergencies: candy for low blood sugar, an extra layer of clothing, air-activated hand warmers, maybe packets of electrolytes, and always lots of water.
And somewhat off-topic, but I also decided, while tromping through the woods this summer, to carry a portable dog water bowl. I saw too many big, fluffy dogs go by me on 90-degree days with nary a bit of water on their owner and natural water sources a couple of miles away. And that just casts a pall on my hikes, so from now on if I see a panting pooch and there’s no water to be had, I’m pulling out my foldable bowl and becoming a dog bartender.
Our animals deserve a village, too.
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