I Love Hiking
My last hike was a disaster. I was on holiday in the town of Underberg, South Africa. I hired a guide to show me some local bushmen art. I felt that I was a competent hiker, having done roughly ten to fifteen solo hikes in and around Johannesburg, South Africa where I live. I had all the kit; I just have bought trekking poles for this hike.
I met up with the guide and we went hiking through the Drakensberg mountains. The first six kilometers went fine; I only used up one liter of my water, based on my previous experience. The first art site was nice. It had depictions of Eland; a spiritual creature to the now-extinct population.
The second site was another kilometer away. We hiked there in good spirits. There, I started to feel sick very, very quickly. I set on a rock as the guide was explaining his interpretation of the art. I told him that I'm not feeling well.
Suddenly I'm feeling an overwhelming, unstoppable need to sleep. I was supporting my head with my arm; my elbow was on my thigh. Within about ten seconds I was having quite a vivid dream. I think the guide woke me, by asking me if I'm OK. I wasn't. As I was coming out of my "dream" my head felt like it was spinning. It was spinning in the "head over heals" direction. It was doing cartwheels at a rate of about five per second.
Apparently I fainted. I felt the need to lie down; I tried to recover for thirty minutes. Then another thirty minutes. Standing up was barely possible. Walking (especially uphill) didn't work. I tried to eat something. That was rejected by the body. I tried to drink but it didn't stay in me for too long.
Eventually, (I was conscious all the time from the initial incident) we made a decision to evacuate me. The rugged terrain meant that no vehicle could get to me. The terrain was too difficult for a horse.
The guide was on his phone to base camp, seeing what options we had. The main prize was for me to walk off the mountain under my own steam. Even though I tried to drink water, I still couldn't walk more than forty meters. The uphills required more effort; and I just couldn't: the issue was my light-headiness. I didn't want to fall; I could be unlucky and fall on a rock. I felt very unstable on my feet: not something you want to be in rolling terrain.
My guide was on the phone to Steve. I later found out that Steve was the paramedic who will be attending to me. Steve made a decision that I should be air-lifted. I was serious enough for him to make a forty-five minute helicopter flight to get to me. The paramedic reserved the right to determine my fate once he examined me on site.
The guide handled all the logistics, as I lay there recovering. Often, I would look over at the rock art. I was recovering alone. I was alone for over an hour. The guide went to scout out a suitable landing spot; he stayed there waiting. I begun to worry about the rain clouds creeping in. Also, another worry was that the day will end soon. The forty-five minutes for the helicopter to arrive turned into one-hour hour. I tried to stand-up again; I could manage it. I made the decision to wait for the helicopter anyway. To conserve my energy, and to recover some more, I lay down again.
I was listening out for the helicopter. There wasn't anything; the was a sudden, surprising jump from nothing to a low volume sound of the approaching helicopter. As it circled they probably saw me lying on the ground. I took a glimpse of its call sign and immediately recognized a pattern: It had my initials in it. I had a good giggle; I eventually shared this with the pilot. As they approached the landing site, I got up. I could stand without too much spin in my head. I watched as the helicopter did a few attempts at landing. The guide used some toilet tissue as a wind-sock; my lime-green jacket as a flag.
I met the paramedic still standing. Seeing that I'm not in immediate danger, the paramedic and the pilot took a look at the rock art. I thought to myself, that is a nice perk for them. Then after a few minutes, the attention shifted back to me.
I was very weak; I didn't have the confidence to hike back. I was loaded into the Bell JetRanger, while getting the full attention of the paramedic. I handed over my car keys to the guide in order for him to repatriate my car to me. I didn't know if I'm going to hospital in Pietermaritzburg (over hundred kilometers away) or not.
I got an IV of fluids into me on the helicopter. My sugar level was good. My blood pressure was low. I had severe dehydration. My mind made the immediate connection between fainting and low blood pressure.
Having an interest in aviation, and having flown fixed wing aircraft, the helicopter ride was an interesting experience. I never experienced a gas turbine start up. Eventually the helicopter generated enough lift and we lifted off. I had a forward facing window seat, so I got a bit of a view of the mountain side.
At the local landing strip, I was greeted by the guide's wife. She was greatly concerned and worried about me. I was then transferred to a local security / medical team, who forwarded me to my accommodation, IV bag in hand. Underberg is a small town; they don't have a hospital. The ambulances are few and far between. The local community relies on a pro-profit business for their minor medical emergencies. The B&B / Backpackers where I stayed pays them a monthly fee for their services.
Prior to summoning the helicopter, I did inquire about the cost of the rescue. I was extremely lucky: it was covered by the Park's insurance policy. It is worked into the entrance fee. I am very grateful for this. I'm also grateful to all the people who were there for me.
I recovered from my dehydration within a few hours. The B&B / Backpackers where I was staying was abuzz with my story. I was up-and-about the next day, feeling normal. I completed the remainder of my planned holiday activities without a hitch.
I returned to work as planned in early January. There, while browsing the news, I picked up a story of a helicopter crash in the park I visited. It was a rescue helicopter that went down, about eighty to hundred kilometers from where I was picked up. I frantically tried to identify if it was my helicopter. I googled the call sign of the helicopter I flew in; the picture of the crashed helicopter didn't show its call sign. I compared the pictures and I was satisfied that it was another helicopter which has gone down. The reports say that the crew of two and a dog has survived. They were looking for a missing hiker.
Now, about 3 weeks later, my self-confidence to go solo hiking is severely shaken. I still need to figure out what the lesson there was...
[image deleted]
I met up with the guide and we went hiking through the Drakensberg mountains. The first six kilometers went fine; I only used up one liter of my water, based on my previous experience. The first art site was nice. It had depictions of Eland; a spiritual creature to the now-extinct population.
The second site was another kilometer away. We hiked there in good spirits. There, I started to feel sick very, very quickly. I set on a rock as the guide was explaining his interpretation of the art. I told him that I'm not feeling well.
Suddenly I'm feeling an overwhelming, unstoppable need to sleep. I was supporting my head with my arm; my elbow was on my thigh. Within about ten seconds I was having quite a vivid dream. I think the guide woke me, by asking me if I'm OK. I wasn't. As I was coming out of my "dream" my head felt like it was spinning. It was spinning in the "head over heals" direction. It was doing cartwheels at a rate of about five per second.
Apparently I fainted. I felt the need to lie down; I tried to recover for thirty minutes. Then another thirty minutes. Standing up was barely possible. Walking (especially uphill) didn't work. I tried to eat something. That was rejected by the body. I tried to drink but it didn't stay in me for too long.
Eventually, (I was conscious all the time from the initial incident) we made a decision to evacuate me. The rugged terrain meant that no vehicle could get to me. The terrain was too difficult for a horse.
The guide was on his phone to base camp, seeing what options we had. The main prize was for me to walk off the mountain under my own steam. Even though I tried to drink water, I still couldn't walk more than forty meters. The uphills required more effort; and I just couldn't: the issue was my light-headiness. I didn't want to fall; I could be unlucky and fall on a rock. I felt very unstable on my feet: not something you want to be in rolling terrain.
My guide was on the phone to Steve. I later found out that Steve was the paramedic who will be attending to me. Steve made a decision that I should be air-lifted. I was serious enough for him to make a forty-five minute helicopter flight to get to me. The paramedic reserved the right to determine my fate once he examined me on site.
The guide handled all the logistics, as I lay there recovering. Often, I would look over at the rock art. I was recovering alone. I was alone for over an hour. The guide went to scout out a suitable landing spot; he stayed there waiting. I begun to worry about the rain clouds creeping in. Also, another worry was that the day will end soon. The forty-five minutes for the helicopter to arrive turned into one-hour hour. I tried to stand-up again; I could manage it. I made the decision to wait for the helicopter anyway. To conserve my energy, and to recover some more, I lay down again.
I was listening out for the helicopter. There wasn't anything; the was a sudden, surprising jump from nothing to a low volume sound of the approaching helicopter. As it circled they probably saw me lying on the ground. I took a glimpse of its call sign and immediately recognized a pattern: It had my initials in it. I had a good giggle; I eventually shared this with the pilot. As they approached the landing site, I got up. I could stand without too much spin in my head. I watched as the helicopter did a few attempts at landing. The guide used some toilet tissue as a wind-sock; my lime-green jacket as a flag.
I met the paramedic still standing. Seeing that I'm not in immediate danger, the paramedic and the pilot took a look at the rock art. I thought to myself, that is a nice perk for them. Then after a few minutes, the attention shifted back to me.
I was very weak; I didn't have the confidence to hike back. I was loaded into the Bell JetRanger, while getting the full attention of the paramedic. I handed over my car keys to the guide in order for him to repatriate my car to me. I didn't know if I'm going to hospital in Pietermaritzburg (over hundred kilometers away) or not.
I got an IV of fluids into me on the helicopter. My sugar level was good. My blood pressure was low. I had severe dehydration. My mind made the immediate connection between fainting and low blood pressure.
Having an interest in aviation, and having flown fixed wing aircraft, the helicopter ride was an interesting experience. I never experienced a gas turbine start up. Eventually the helicopter generated enough lift and we lifted off. I had a forward facing window seat, so I got a bit of a view of the mountain side.
At the local landing strip, I was greeted by the guide's wife. She was greatly concerned and worried about me. I was then transferred to a local security / medical team, who forwarded me to my accommodation, IV bag in hand. Underberg is a small town; they don't have a hospital. The ambulances are few and far between. The local community relies on a pro-profit business for their minor medical emergencies. The B&B / Backpackers where I stayed pays them a monthly fee for their services.
Prior to summoning the helicopter, I did inquire about the cost of the rescue. I was extremely lucky: it was covered by the Park's insurance policy. It is worked into the entrance fee. I am very grateful for this. I'm also grateful to all the people who were there for me.
I recovered from my dehydration within a few hours. The B&B / Backpackers where I was staying was abuzz with my story. I was up-and-about the next day, feeling normal. I completed the remainder of my planned holiday activities without a hitch.
I returned to work as planned in early January. There, while browsing the news, I picked up a story of a helicopter crash in the park I visited. It was a rescue helicopter that went down, about eighty to hundred kilometers from where I was picked up. I frantically tried to identify if it was my helicopter. I googled the call sign of the helicopter I flew in; the picture of the crashed helicopter didn't show its call sign. I compared the pictures and I was satisfied that it was another helicopter which has gone down. The reports say that the crew of two and a dog has survived. They were looking for a missing hiker.
Now, about 3 weeks later, my self-confidence to go solo hiking is severely shaken. I still need to figure out what the lesson there was...
[image deleted]
