In about 12 hours I’ll be going to Cambodia again. It is always a surreal experience for me, as I am such an unlikely candidate for such far away travel. I’m old enough to be a grandmother and never had expectations of going farther away than the edges of my own country. I don’t necessarily have a yearning for travel and can’t imagine why it has happened to me (for the fifth time now!) except to say that an unseen hand must have picked me up and dropped me on the plane.
These days preceding the flight have been filled with hectic activity, not leaving much time to think about the trip, but when I have thought about it…
How different will it be for me, doing it alone this time?
I don’t have suitcases full of toys, crafts, and medical supplies this time. What am I supposed to do with all that room? Take clothes?
What will I do with those 26 hours of travel time if there are no good movies? if it’s hard to get up and walk around? if I can’t sleep?
I hope I don’t break the hot pink headphones I borrowed from Gracie.
At last I’ll get to be that person at the airport looking for someone holding a card with my name on it.
I wonder what the taxi fare will be – have no clue. I should have handled more of my own money matters on trips before.
I wonder if I will remember the children’s names, or even recognize them after two years. They’ve grown so much. I wonder if they will remember me…
A real hotel this time, not a guest house with known hosts. The Double Leaf Boutique, at the exorbitant price of $40 per night. Times have changed!
I wonder if my aging computer will make it through the two weeks. And my phone’s camera…
But I’m not going to take as many pictures (haha – I say this every time). I’m just going to put new dates on the old ones.
I’m not going to buy anything at the markets. No, not a thing. I don’t need anything.
I’ve seen their chickens. How am I ever going to stay on my paleo diet?
Two weeks without my favorite pillow, should be interesting. I’m tired already. And beds in southeast Asia are mostly hard in my experience.
I shouldn’t have cut my own hair – this is how they are going to remember me forever. There will be photos…
How has the country changed? I wonder if the roads have gotten any better.
How many hours of TV will the husband log while I’m away?
It’s the last few hours and I’m making myself finish packing. I’m hoping that once I get there the long trip will be forgotten and I will regain my enthusiasm, but for now, I have to admit I’m lacking in that category. I’m asking God to show me, definitively, why I am doing this. And I know he will.
Today was a good day. I accomplished two things. I tested out a new pair of hiking boots and I stretched myself physically to see if anything was going to break. So far, nothing has.
We are visiting our daughter in North Carolina. I have been looking forward to this visit for several reasons – one of them being the hiking terrain that’s available there. Today was Julia’s day off from work so we went looking for some mountains.
About an hour from Greensboro is Hanging Rock State Park and there are mountains there very similar to other places on the AT that I have hiked in the past. The rock outcroppings at the tops of these wooded ridges are so dramatic. I couldn’t help but thinking of the violent seismic forces that must have pushed them up at such angles. And what a beautiful ride there! North Carolina is all leafed out and green, fields are planted, and rhododendron is blooming along the roadside as you get to higher elevations. The sun was shining and there was just enough breeze to keep us cool.
The state park has no admission fee so we drove in, parked near the visitor center and got a trail map. The girl manning the information desk marked out a trail for us. I told her we were ambitious and wanted some up and down time, so she suggested an 11 mile route that visited five outstanding spots. We honestly had no idea how this was going to feel for us, and I was glad there were several optional places to quit our route and get back to the car.
Photo op after peeling off first layer of jackets
We set off around 1 pm, Julie had Tess the dog with her, and I carried the backpack with water and snacks. We soon peeled off our first layer of jackets, mostly out of embarrassment as we passed people in shorts and tank tops, and partly because we started climbing and sweating right away. The main feature, Hanging Rock, was first on the list. We saw lots of people on this trail, all ages and hiking abilities. There were benches at convenient resting spots. The trail is well maintained but it is rocky in places with uneven footing. It’s sometimes steep, but the view at the top is worth the climb. The rocky outcroppings allow one to see wide expanses of the valleys on both sides, east and west. Although there is ample room at the top for people to spread out and rest awhile on the rocks, there are no barriers anywhere and the vertical drops are scary. (What I’m saying is that if you had carried your young child up there, you would want to hold on to them. Every. Minute.)
Tess was so good on this trip, but she was on leash up here, for sure.
We had a snack and then doubled back on the trail to the next outcropping, Wolf Rock. It and the next two, House Rock and Cook Wall, were reached along the next five or six miles along a ridge. Ridgewalking is somewhat of a relief because it has fewer steep climbs or descents. This trail is forested and shady except on the outcroppings. The path varies from soft forest floor to tangled root stair steps and ragged rock slabs and boulders. You spend a lot of time looking down for safe places for feet to land. There were fewer people to share the trail with us after Hanging Rock since the other features are visited less. However, they were all worth seeing. We decided to head back without going to Moores Wall, the last on our route. Our feet were beginning to feel the rocks and over eight miles (five hours) of unaccustomed hiking were making my legs feel a little rubbery. Besides, the dog was really tired.
A gorgeous spot along one of the ridges
It is true that the descending path can be harder or as hard as the climb up – you feel the strain in other places though. The last mile was mostly level ground that followed a clear brook, spilling out of Magnolia Spring and emptying into a beautiful lake. I saw there a sign for a trail I hadn’t heard about before, The MTS or Mountain to Sea, not that I need another trail to add to the list.
Julia, with a milkshake on her mind. Can you tell?
Julia is a wizard at finding her favorite treats and evidently a milk shake had been on her mind for the last few miles of the hike. We found one of those at the Milk Bar in Walnut Cove. It was the perfect end to a great day of hiking.
The first reason for having this fine thing for a favorite is that its word is a fun palindrome. Kayak is kayak no matter which way you look at it. I love words that look quirky too and having those k’s at the beginning and end give it a nice balanced look. Balance is a very good thing for a kayak to have, believe me.
I had a birthday recently and one of my hopes for every birthday is to do something mildly scary (or new) that makes me know I am still alive and meeting challenges. I also love to share my birthday experience with someone, but this year there was no one free to help me out. I had to do something alone, and that was probably the needed scary factor – doing it alone.
I decided that I would go out in my kayak to a new place, Lake Manatee, which is a reservoir on the Manatee River east of the town where I live. I have done a birthday kayak outing once before but at that time I rented a kayak. Having my own now, the first challenge was to get it on top of my car and fastened in place, by myself. Doing something a bit difficult and awkward with someone watching on makes me feel a little like a two-year-old screaming “I do it myself!” but that’s the way it had to be since I had to know if I could do it.
Yeah, just try to figure one of these out….
The most difficult thing was figuring out how to work the ratchet straps. I’ve never studied them long enough to really “get it” but now I do. They are very handy things but you have to know how they work.
Since I’m always a nervous driver when something is strapped on to the outside of my car, this process of loading up was very important to me. Can you imagine my kayak laying out in the middle of I-75? That’s not just mildly scary, it’s nightmare material.
I’m happy to say I did it, I enjoyed it and I lived to write about it. In the interest of keeping posts short, I’ll post my picture story and be done.
Here’s how I travel. Safely in the parking lot at the lake.Looking a bit wild. It was windy. But, I am all color coordinated which is the important thing.I saw an alligator in one of the backwaters I investigated. I left rather quickly.It’s even more windy in the middle of a lake, and of course, that’s where I went. I don’t know why.It was beautiful along the shore, sun made the water sparkle.An outing is no good without food. I found this sheltered shore with a “hitching post” and had my snack.I rescued this balloon out of the water. Things like this can pose danger for water birds and other wildlife.
What do you like to do on your birthday that makes it memorable. Don’t say “eat cake” please…
I will remind readers that this hike took place in 2004. I am revisiting it in order to have in mind the good and the not so good as I prepare to finish more sections of the fascinating AT this year.
Day 5
There was wind. It was chilly. We stayed in the tent till almost 9 wondering whether it would rain again. There wasn’t much to do except start walking and find out. I knew I didn’t want to climb the infamous Albert Mountain, so was planning on the bypass trail. Esther’s knee was hurting, even before the weight of her pack was added. We knew we would be crossing several forest service roads and felt that if a ride out came our way, we would take it.
As you sit safe at home reading this, you can’t really grasp what it’s like to feel hurt, uncertain and fairly helpless and then come upon a scene like this. God bless men with trucks.
We started at 11 am and had a good two hours of nice flat and down stretches. The sun came out, there were flowers everywhere and fresh bear scat on the trail (just to keep things real). While eating lunch at Betty Creek, we heard a truck in the distance,beeping as it backed up. However, it must have been on another trail, and farther than we could run to to catch it. On we went to Mooney Gap with Lorraine and Kenton leading the way, as we were now quite a bit slower.
As we approached the next road, there were Lorraine and Kenton talking with a whole crew of men from the Nantahala Hiking Club. They had been working on the trail (putting in an elevator at Albert Mountain, they said. Giving CPR to a blackbird, they said.) and were about to head back to Franklin. They were concerned about Esther and happy to pack us into the back of one of their trucks and take us back to town.
It was a little surreal, two hours later, to be back at the Microtel taking a shower instead of on the trail in jeopardy of hurting ourselves. I thanked the Lord for taking care of us. We will live to see another day, maybe even hike again. We took Kenton’s car which she left at the motel and drove to Wayah Crest to retrieve my Aztek. Found a Thai restaurant! Back at the motel, went to bed on a real mattress!
Day 6
Things I learned:
In early May take gloves and warm jacket and hat
Take a good rain suit and cover for my pack
Go lighter still – it can be done
Take treats and morning coffee – you need them and they don’t weigh that much
Hiking can be pleasant and the scenery beautiful but the most amazing thing is finding yourself dependent upon God, and pretty much out of control of your own welfare. I felt the experience was as much an exercise of faith, discipline and persistence as it was for our muscles. That has become a big reason why I love hiking in remote places.
Esther and I had a great day checking out Franklin, visiting the outfitter’s store and a book place. We ate lunch at a creekside cafe with robins singing over our heads and the brook singing underneath our balcony – very Appalachian. We found a great park to lounge around in and read our books. Succumbing to the mundane, we had pizza for supper and relaxed watching a thrilling episode of Extreme Home Makeover on TV.
Day 7
I had breakfast (that’s me, always), Esther didn’t (usual for her) and then we got ourselves packed up and into the Aztek for the rendezvous with Lorraine and Kenton. We parked where the trail crossed the main highway at Winding Stair Gap. Esther’s knee wouldn’t let her go very far up the trail but I intended to meet the girls, identifying flowers along the way with my new book. I only got a short way up the trail to discover Lorraine and Kenton sitting, eating morning snack and thinking they were still a couple miles from the meeting point.
They were in good shape but also content with cutting the hike a little shorter than originally planned. We whisked them back to the motel for a quick shower (for which we were not charged, even though it was past checkout time, yay!) We had a celebratory meal at the renowned “Fat Buddy’s Barbecue”. It was a place worth another visit and even Esther (vegetarian) found some good stuff there. Lorraine didn’t mind heading home right away so we left about 3 pm and had a safe trip home to Florida. There are many other details I could have written but, basically, that’s the story (morning glory).
Does this story make you want to go hiking, or not? Are you curious about any element of the story?
Four hikers set out in the rain. Bonding misery takes place.
Esther, goofing around at a dry, warm lunch stop (just trying to keep mom alive).
Day 3
Did I mention that the temp dropped? 38 degrees F.! Most everyone has hats, gloves, sweaters and warm stuff on and I am thinking sadly of the clothing I decided to leave home. Jerry and Shelley, Gingerbear and Mercury , the newlyweds and others who shared the shelter with us, all got themselves fed and headed out. We draped our wet things on our packs and, wearing all our dry things, headed for Bly Gap. We reached it around lunch time and had just taken a few bites when it started to rain, again. We put our wet clothes back on in order to save our dry ones, and quickly got going for the next shelter.
The next four hours had three long climbs, in wind that nearly blew us over, and very little environmental shelter. It was easier to stay warm if I kept moving but when the only choice was to move up, I was hardly going fast enough to be considered in motion. Esther was ahead of me singing “the hills are alive with the sound of… blah, blah”. I was thinking it was good the hills were alive, since I was almost dead. But her singing kept me going. I think she was afraid I would sit down and succumb to hypothermia.
We got to Muskrat Creek Shelter about 4 pm. I played Elijah (from the Bible story) and made some wet wood burn – truly a miracle which amazed everyone. Electing to go without mice this time, Esther set up the tent for us. We crawled into our sacks feeling almost too cold to sleep.
She, whose fingers still worked, set up the tent with this wonderful attitude.
Day 4
Ice on the picnic table! I am so glad we slept in the tent last night. It was warmer and less drafty than the shelter, but that is still not saying it was warm. I slept in fetal position all night. My fingers were so cold I could hardly get the damp tent folded up and packed. Esther made breakfast. At least it was a clear and sunny morning.
On the trail by 9 am. By 10 am we were stopping to take off layers of clothes – how quickly things changed. Lunch at Deep Gap and we were finally warm! It was so beautiful there.
Hiking long ridges is absolutely the BEST!
This was our longest day, hiking 12 miles, but it was mostly flat or downhill with only gradual climbs. Esther started to feel some twinges in her knee on the downhill stretches and we had to consider what we would do if it got worse for her.
We made Carter Gap at 6:30 and we had the shelter all to ourselves! Esther and I scouted out the nearby spring and, never one to forego cleanliness, Esther decided to wash her hair (not easy in a freezing mountain spring, coming out of a hole in the ground, brrr).
My legs and feet were sore and I felt generally awful. We had been warned that there were bear around with no fear of humans, and that a pack had been torn apart, so I hung a bear rope all by myself and prepared to string our food packs up. Esther set up the tent again. We ate supper and talked with Dave from Australia who wandered in. To sleep around 9 pm.
I have tried for days now to find my journal of the first AT hike – I’m coming up with nothing, although I know I’ve seen it somewhere. But I have the record of the second hike from 2004.
Finding people to hike with can be a bit of a problem. Someone has to be able to get time off and really want to do this. That narrows down the prospective pool of hikers. I found three women online who were interested in planning with me and we corresponded for a couple months before our hike. One of them hurt her ankle right before the hike and couldn’t go.
Day 1
Our packs look a little overwhelming, but we need it all, probably.
A good start from my daughter’s house in Tampa. Just enough clouds to make easy driving. We met Lorraine for the first time in person. She was nice and talked easily so we got to know each other pretty well. I forgot all my vitamins and pills at Esther’s so we stopped at a grocery store to replace it all (plus a cake server, don’t ask…). Other than that we only stopped once for breakfast in Gainesville, and once for gas in Tifton, getting into Franklin N.C. about 4:30 pm. Another of our hiking buddies, Elyse, and her husband were waiting at the motel. The last member, Kenton, came a few minutes later.
We decided to do the car drop at our end point, Wayah Gap. What a beautiful drive up in the mountains! We had a real dinner (maybe our last for a while) and then went back to the motel to go through our gear one final time. Our packs still look too heavy.
Hopefully not our last meal, but perhaps our last GOOD meal for a while.
Day 2
I am up first and out to the lobby to journal. There are big storm clouds out there and 70% chance of rain. Are we being stupid?
I barely survived the ride to Dick’s Creek crammed in Elyse’s small Blazer (actually I was stuck to the ceiling). Dick’s Creek. Who is Dick? I want to know. We took parting pictures and got on the trail by 10 am.
Kenton, Lorraine, Elyse, me and Esther. This is a hike, not a fashion show.
We had only a few sprinkles for the first two hours, which was kind of cool and pleasant. Then it started to pour, which was nothing but cold and unpleasant. We put garbage bags over our packs and that worked fairly well. But our ponchos only kept part of our bodies dry. By the time we reached Plum Orchard Gap we were soaked head to foot, either with rain or sweat, it didn’t much matter which.
We crowded into a trail shelter with 10 other wet, smelly people at about 1 pm. This left a lot of afternoon and evening to sit and do… yes, what? Dry off? Hardly. The temperature started dropping so we huddled in our sleeping bags after supper and listened to mice for the next eight hours. May I never have to repeat a night like this. Saw my first “bear bag” cables.
Esther in her deluxe upper shelf (where most of the mice were). This was before five other hikers joined her. My cold, wet finger on the lens, sorry.
Last night when I should have been sleeping I was instead thinking about how I would get back to my car after hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail. This is a step beyond getting time to do it, or finding a suitable section to hike. I am in the commitment stage.
It has been a long time since my first hike in 2002, with four high school girls. We were all newbies.
Seriously, we were blessed to have made it out alive.
And thirteen years since my last hike in2004 (when we could have died in freezing rain).
The lady with the crutches backed out (for obvious reasons). 39 degrees, brrrr. Seriously, we were blessed to have made it out alive.
It takes longer than that for a dream to die however, and countless times I have gotten the maps out, looked at the pictures and considered possible hiking companions. I finally have hopes of getting back on the trail, possibly for this year’s birthday treat in April. The excitement is building.
Hiking the AT is kind of like birthing a baby. It’s an arduous process, but if you wait long enough you forget the horrible parts and remember the joy. I want to re-visit those times, all of them, and make sure I remember the ones that are crucial to health and safety.
One of my reasons for wanting to hike now is to see what damage the last thirteen years have done to my body. Another dream of mine, hiking down into the Grand Canyon, is scheduled for this fall and I need to know if I can do it. Since I have reasons for being in North Carolina these days (daughter Julie’s new home), some trips on the AT will be good conditioning and a test of my stamina. A friend has offered a place to stay in Franklin, NC and there are several sections near there that I’ve not done. It feels good to have a fun challenge and a goal on my list.
I didn’t have a blog back then and I’ve never published a good account of all we saw and did on those hikes. I’m going to do it now as a way of remembering. The 2017 A to Z Challenge is coming up in April too so I have a lot of writing to do in the days ahead. Hiking and writing, two of my favorite things, should make this a fun spring. Just sayin’…
The continuing saga of Hurricane Matthew in Jacksonville
Friday: It was a restless night. We kept hearing the noise of the wind and rain messing with the tarp on our roof. The logs holding it down kept rolling around, thumping, and we wondered when the leaking would start. When it was light enough, Julie decided to move her vet van out to the other side of the electric gate, in case the power would go out and leave her trapped. She thought it would be good to move my car out as well so it wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. I never had noticed all the power lines overhead, but now that it was time to avoid them, there they were.
The barn owner came over in his golf cart and suggested better placement of our vehicles, so out we went again, looking for high ground away from trees. The weather was not particularly scary so we decided to eat a good breakfast before leaving. The cats were going to stay put in the barn apartment so we fed them too. The horses, backs to the wind, heads down, were still grazing out in the field pond. Water, water everywhere and more coming down all the time.
We relocated to the main house around 11 and took up residence with Cliff, Monica and their kids, “hunkering down” as hurricane people call it in their solid, block house which Cliff assured us was going to be super safe in spite of being surrounded by huge trees. For several hours we cooked, watched tv, and did all those electric things that one takes for granted, until the power went out at 3 pm. The party spirit was not dampened in the slightest since the generator went on and powered lights and fans, tv and internet quite adequately. Out on the dining room table a four hour (agonizing) game of Risk took place at decibel levels that I’m sure were damaging to the ears. I blogged and caught up on my Solitaire challenges.
Somewhere in its progression Matthew took an eastward jog which newscasters credited with saving most of Jacksonville. The reports showed the devastation of the beach towns which were flooded, but even there the damage could have been much worse. Piers were washed away, people reported sharks in their front yards, trees were snapped off, all the routine hurricane stuff… Just sayin’…
It seemed like the wind was dying down where we were as well and I wanted to get out of the house and check on our things in the apartment before darkness was upon us. Julie and I set out in the golf cart during a lull, but before we got halfway to the barn the wind picked up again and, well, really impressed us, I’d have to say. It wasn’t a fearful moment, but definitely exhilarating to be aware of the power of the wind and driving rain, to have to wade through a foot of water to open the gate, and to arrive drenched in spite of rain gear.
The expected leak had begun but the buckets were catching most of it. The cats were fine. We grabbed some food to take back and braved the elements again going back to the house. More eating, waiting, watching tv until bedtime. We decided to sleep at the house where there were lights and fans and good company if we needed it. Still raining, but we were glad to hear the promise of better weather for the morning.
Saturday: From a west coast friend “it’s hard for me to understand why people choose to live where they have to prepare for possibly devastating weather. Every year.” I guess I would answer that I didn’t really choose Florida for its weather at all – I loved Wisconsin where I came from (although some people can’t understand choosing to live there either…). Sometimes the more pressing matter is where you have a job that will support your family. And I have to say that most of the year Florida weather is pretty desirable, judging by the crowd we get down here. Florida has been our home for 30 years and this is only the second time I have “hunkered down” during a hurricane. I do appreciate that we are given ample time to prepare and make decisions, even leave the path if we desire.
Today’s waiting is for the power to be restored and the water to run off. Most of us are a little stir crazy. I’ve been out to check the apartment, sweep debris and pile up fallen branches. We are still on generator power and it doesn’t run the AC so it’s getting a little damp and warm in the house, but overall, still comfortable. Although we have internet, my pictures will not upload so I will have to add them later. Check back if you wish. Thanks to everyone who cared about our welfare, and thanks to God for protection and comfort in the midst of the storm.
I’m not done recording details about the visit to Hayward, Wisconsin. The Chamber should be paying me for this…
then (1987)Now (2016)
It was thirty years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. Two moms, one with two little boys and one with two little girls, needed the kind of break from routine and stressful lives that only nature can provide. They were campers so they loaded up and traveled to an out of the way spot. It was an abandoned fish hatchery, state land I suppose. The cement tanks that had been embedded in the ground to harbor the young fingerlings had been removed and the field grasses had grown to cover the areas. The small road, two tracks with grass growing in the middle, crossed a stone bridge which covered a creek, Hatchery Creek. Chalk it up to mid-westerners to avoid having to name things, by just calling them what they are.
I was one of the moms. I had driven down the road one day looking for a place of childhood memories.
Sundays, with the whole family in the car, my dad would stop on the way home to look at the fish, in particular the large sturgeon who lived in his own special tank. Other tanks were rippling with the motion of the young fish waiting to be released into northern Wisconsin lakes and streams.
But in 1987 it was obvious that the program had been discontinued and the sign indicated that the natural stream that ran through the property was being restored as a trout habitat. There were no buildings left, no signs of recent activity, just a beautiful meadow surrounded by hills decorated with hardwoods and pines. It was the perfect place to camp. I could hardly wait.
In this day of protected lands, designated camping spots and required permits to camp, it is hard to imagine someone just picking a place in the woods and deciding it’s the place for them. If we were trespassing, I didn’t know it. Plus, we were gutsy women who loved to make independent decisions, and we made the decision of where to put the tent, where to make our campfire and told our kids where they could explore. That’s what they did all afternoon.
There is something so compelling about a creek. It’s more personal and approachable than a river. Rippling and clear, musical, fordable, a creek begs you to follow it up river because it has to start somewhere. What would that look like? This particular stream was easiest to follow if you got in it. The banks were sometimes purposely undercut to provide hiding places for fish and the grass and bushes on the banks were tall. A person who didn’t know the stream was there might have a hard time finding it. But you could walk in the middle in water never more than knee deep and every now and then there would be stones or boulders to stand or sit on. The kids were having the greatest time and we were watching, with cameras in hand.
I had to work my way through head high foliage to get to the place where it looked like water was welling up out of the bottom of the creek. It may not have been the birthplace of the stream but it was certainly adding the major portion of the flow. I have a weird fear of holes spewing an endless flow of water. If I stepped in there would I disappear, falling endlessly like Alice down the rabbit hole, only this hole is full of water which kind of rules out being able to breathe?
I’m again back in childhood, ice skating on the farm pond and hearing Dad tell us to stay away from a certain area where springs kept the ice thin. Springs were mysterious, like faucets that never get turned off.
The rest of our camping trip was spent cooking supper, sitting around the campfire with visiting grandparents, and sleeping through the night with one eye open. It was “that season” of the year and our tick phobia was full blown by the time we left, nevertheless it was a memorable time for me, and that is why I revisit Hatchery Creek most every time I go home to Hayward.
Two weeks ago daughter Esther and I went to the area where we had camped and observed the ritual of wading in the creek. She was the youngest of the four children present and does not remember the time and the place as clearly as I do. It has changed. It is now an access point for a series of trails including the Birkebeiner ski trail. It is used year round by many people who want to hike or single track through the woods, or skiers practicing their hill climbing and cross country skills. People do not camp there and I feel a bit sneaky (and smug, and fortunate) for having done so. The creek is still flowing, although it seems to have taken second place to the footpaths through the woods. I know where that spring is. I still find it mysterious and I still wonder how it keeps coming, and coming, and coming…
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A short walk up a trailwoodland beautyeven in death…
I have a talented daughter who is an equine veterinarian. Although I am a registered nurse for people, she occasionally allows me to ride on calls with her as she treats animals. We have adventures. I call myself VetMa. (OK, it’s a bit dramatic. So what?)
It was Thursday evening, the first of the long weekend on call. It was getting dark. As often happens two emergency calls came in at the same time, but this time the triage decision was easy. The horse with the eye laceration would have to wait, because the one with the heel bulb laceration would not. The heel bulb is the area directly above the hoof of the horse and in this case, the owners reported fairly heavy bleeding. An artery had likely been severed.
The horse was standing in the driveway surrounded by a small crowd of people. A blood soaked wrap was around it’s left front hoof and ankle. It became apparent that there was no lighted barn in which to care for the horse, not even a floodlight over the drive so cars were pointed with headlights shining on the horse.
Almost all work done on large animals that involves pain, requires some degree of sedation and although this patient was standing fairly quietly, he would definitely need something for the treatment ahead. Just like people, animals respond differently to sedatives. The doc estimated the animal’s weight and gave a starting dose before cleaning the wound. As it began to take effect, the bandage was removed.
Lacerations in this area are always going to be contaminated and prone to infection. This one was in the fleshy area in the back of the bulb and there were arteries involved. Just cleaning and examining the area was difficult – a tranquilized horse has trouble standing on three legs so holding it’s leg up in a convenient position proved impossible. Our doc decided to let the horse stand on all four while she worked. That meant working in an unexplainable position close to the ground, nearly under the horse, in the dark with flashlights to guide the way.
The perfect conditions and position for suturing, not.
The area around the laceration was blocked with local anesthetic and scrubbed clean. As the horse shifted its weight the laceration would open and close, each time making the small arterial bleeders spurt blood. It was difficult to see where to tie them off, but little by little the laceration was closed and the bleeding stopped.
While the tranquilizer was still in effect, the doc wrapped the ankle in batting and layers of gauze. A fiberglass cast was applied like a small boot to protect the area and allow the horse to stand and move while the cut healed. As the crowd dispersed, the doc gave instructions for care and dispensed antibiotics (and stretched her aching back).
All fixed up with a small boot cast.
It was back in the truck and on to the next call. Fortunately, the horse with the eye laceration was at an equine event where they had found another vet who was a participant. He was willing to stitch up the laceration so we went home, hoping for a quiet night.
I Just Have to Say... 