Trip/accident report: To Err is Human

Saturday 2 June
New River Gorge

First, I'd like to commend the NPS rangers, the EMTs, and all the climbers who participated in my carry-out. It was a hour of hard work, especially for the nonclimbers, some of whom weren't in the best possible shape for that sort of thing. They got me out safely and expeditiously. My heartfelt thanks to all.

Bottom line -- A back brace for four months, no climbing for six, no permanent damage.

Wednesday 6/6 -- Arrive home. After my family goes to bed, I feverishly log in to rec.climbing, expecting to see a long thread about the accident. After all, there were apparently over 30 people in the carry out. Nothing, which is a relief. Being home, a bigger relief. The concern of my family, their eagerness to make me comfortable, a great relief. Sleep is only a little easier though. Before finally drifting off, I replay the fall, and recriminate myself twenty different ways for being so stupid. If only I had this, or that. It could have been worse, I tell myself. But it could have been so much less bad.

Roll back: Friday  6/1-- Pete and I make the long drive to the New. Pete doesn't really know the place at all, while I nap he drives past Rte 19. A forty minute detour. No alpine start, but Saturday morning we're out of Cathedral Cafe by 9:30. Hike into Fern, rap next to the creek (neither of us has been that far to the north end of the cliff). We're there for 5.10 crack climbing, Springboard seems the epitome of what we're about, though I have a hit list of twenty and more routes. We work our way down the cliff, warming up with S and M (my lead) and Cresenta (Pete's).

Cresenta was pretty hard for 10a, Pete took a long time leading it, especially at the hardest move, especially for a 5.12 leader. Going past that into the uncling traverse, he was able to reach up to holds that I could touch but not move on. In order to clean an unusual-for-Pete two piece placement, and to figure out the next moves, I hang out for a long time on a thumb-down left-hand jam, some point on the rock digging into the back of my hand, which eventually goes numb. There's still a bit of numbness/tingliness a week later, but the neurologist agrees it's probably just from that hold. Between cleaning and hanging out figuring out hot to avoid a bad traverse fall, Cresenta pumped me a bit.

It was now after 2:00, it wouldn't start getting dark until 8:00, but it was time to head straight down to Orchard Wall. Springboard looks great, and we eat lunch and look at all the other 10s on the wall as well. Triple Treat looks amazing, and Pete is  already talking about coming back here tomorrow.

It's my turn up and I start Springboard. The crux seems to be fairly low, basically the first 20 feet, but the gear seems okay. This first part of the route is getting to the top of a feature that's sort of like a big giant vertical chockstone filling an offwidth, creating a sort of thin twin crack system, with only a few really good holds. Once atop that it looks like steep hand jamming the rest of the way. I make a couple of moves off the ground and get a great nut. I only really need one more placement to be able to commit to getting to the top of the chockstone. A really good two-and-a-half-finger one-knuckle-deep jam-crimp on the left gets me through a mediocre hold on the right. With one small foot I reach up and slot a great right hand fingerlock; On that I crank up and have the top of the chockstone in my hands.Hang out looking for feet, getting to the crack above is further than I thought and I need them. I downclimb to the ground, go back up, finally fall on my high piece, lower, try it a couple more times, I give up and go up to get my gear off.

I clean the higher piece, hang on the lower one, and from there put in a lower one, a large nut in a good v-notch, open at the top but fine for  downward. Then I unweight the now-higher nut clean it. Suddenly I lose my holds. A second later and I'm slamming into the ground, the flat of my lower back flat against the rocks. Immense pain, but I'm still falling, or at least moving. The ground slopes quite a bit and I'm aware enough to turn my movement into a controlled roll, head over heels,  orienting myself as if an ice self-arrest. After the one roll I stop moving. Pete is shouting something. "I'm okay, I'm okay" I scream, meaning I can still feel everything. "I'm not okay" I shout next, meaning the pain is intense, our day is over, and I'm not getting out of here easily.

Pete helps me slide myself down a foot or two to a more level spot, and puts rope and pack under me to get me more stable and comfortable. Neither of us wants to move my neck or spine, but I know I'm going to be there a while and I need to get my back supported with something other than my bruised back muscles, which are not spasming, but are in constant tension and use. Some guys had walked past a little while ago, Pete goes to see if they're still around. They are, and they use their cellphone to alert the NPS. Their leader finishes his lead to be at the cliff top to help identify my location.

Some other climbers come by, they're experienced in wilderness first response and take my blood pressure and pulse and the accident report details. I'm on a first responder squad at work so I don't even wait for their questions. Eventually the EMTs and the rangers arrive, with a backboard. I knew from ANAM reports how time dialates, but it was still amazing. The fall was no later than 3:30, the rangers were there between 4:30 and 5:00, the carry-out didn't start until 6:00, it took an hour. By the time I got to the hospital in Beckley, I was "down" for almost five hours.

The the real time dilation began. The initial X-rays were quick, because they needed them to assess my immediate condition. The CAT scan took much longer. Then those images needed to be enhanced and re-rendered. The ER doctor decided I ought to be seen by a neurosurgeon, requiring that I go back onto the backboard for transport to the hospital in Charleston. I was finally out of my second ER of the day and into a room at around 4:00 a.m.

For the medico types, I have a burst fracture of L1. The first hospital thought it was an unstable fracture, hence the need to redo the CAT images and ship me off to the neurosurgeons. In fact, it was stable enough not to need surgery. Apparently the compression was in the safe and healable range of 30 or 35%. The neurosurgeon up here in NJ wants me to wear the back brace for four months, and thought that by six months, I'll be able to do whatever I want. (By the way, I asked him what he thought of the back brace itself and he complimented it, saying it was better than what I'd probably have gotten up here.)

For the post-mortem types, essentially I didn't really make a plan for myself for cleaning the first nut I placed. I could have just lowered off it and decided how to get it. I could have just fallen on the additional nut I placed, even if it blew my feet would have been under me and for a six foot fall I probably would have sprained my ankle and nothing more. In point of fact when I slipped I just grabbed at it and pulled it upward and therefore out. As a consequence too, I was still leaning back a bit and didn't have my feet under me.

For the psychology types, it could have been worse, it can always be worse, but I think I paid a pretty heavy price for relatively small error. I'm mortified that everyone at work, and everyone my wife deals with at work or church, now feels that climbing is as unsafe as they've always assumed it to be. I'm embarrassed at having to be rescued. I'm angry with myself that I have to cancel a trip to Seneca with one friend, the Tetons with another, and to mess up the summer for my regular partner. I've put my wife out quite a bit, and scared her much more. And I've always considered myself a very safe climber, and my friends have always thought of me that way too. How can I presume to teach their boyfriends, or visiting Canadians, or anyone else? How can anyone trust me to go to the back country with them? How can I trust myself?

I'm sure I'll feel differently about climbing for a long time, which maybe isn't such a bad thing. I've pushed my way into 5.10 too quickly, and should have backed off. I've been too full of myself over some very modest little successes, and too obsessive about climbing every weekend. A four or six month layoff should rid me of my pride as well as what little strength I have, and maybe a bunch of nagging tendon problems as well. This season is gone,, and I'm lucky that's all it will come to. I know I'll be glad to start my climbing career over again half a year from now, older, and if not wiser, at least humbler.

  -steven-
--