A mountain run mis-adventure

Trail running is an awesome way to travel light and fast and access some truly remote and spectacular mountain scenery in a single day. But occasionally things don’t go quite to plan. This is the story of a trail-run accident I had 10 years ago, alone in the mountains, how I got myself out, recovery from surgery, plaster and crutches, and ultimately getting back to enjoying trail running again.

The setting

Ten years ago, at age 49,  I started looking forward to entering mountain run events that had an ‘over 50’ category.  I was still doing a lot of trail running back then, and in April 2009 I set off early  on a solo run along the northern tip of the Travers Range in Nelson Lakes. It was a beautiful autumn day, and I took Paddy’s Track which winds up onto the Robert Ridge route to Lake Angelus and signed in at the hut. I then continued on across the tarns towards Angelus Peak (2075m), climbing it up by the direct north ridge.  I’d run up here several times before via different routes – including the striking east ridge route that starts right at the Travers valley floor (listed in the Wild Things directory). But today was to be a more cruisy  outing, or so I thought.  It was around 10am, and the weather was crispy cool, settled and clear, and the views fantastic.

The accident

The plan was to head down to Hopeless Hut via Sunset Saddle and out via the Travers valley. Running off Angelus summit down rocky scree I spotted a gully which seemed to offer a more direct line.  But once in the gully, it became a bit too steep and loose, so I decided to traverse out. This just involved making a few steps across loose rocks. Since they looked like they might slide, I held on to a large boulder, which looked secure but I didn’t bother to test it (mistake!) – sure enough the rocks below my feet slid away,  then the large boulder I was holding also peeled off and I found myself falling backwards with it, along with lots of other loose rock.  My memory of what happened next was like in a slow motion movie – tumbling down with lots of falling rocks, and trying to get my footing but losing it again. When it was over I was lying on my back, head-down on the steep slope, with a sharp pain at the base of my right leg. I looked up and saw a large rock lying on end of my leg. I bent up and tried to moved it, but it seemed stuck. It wasn’t a great situation: no shelter, no water, 2000m up, in a hidden gully, miles from anyone or any major trail, pinned down upside down by a seemingly immovable rock, and with no cell-phone coverage. 

Escape

At that moment it was a huge relief to know that I had a locator beacon in my Camelback. I have never used one, but it seemed like I might need to. I sat up again, and with more adrenalin on board I finally managed to move the rock off. It was great to not be trapped any more, but looking down I saw I had a nasty, deep gash in the front of my lower leg just above my foot. I crawled out of the gulley and put on my jacket and thermal top, and had some energy gels as I felt faint and was starting to shiver from shock. I was thankful that despite numerous cuts and bruises, I hadn’t hit my head, hurt my back, or broken any major bones.

I was also relieved I had my first aid kit: using ‘Sleek’ tape and some other bits and pieces I was able to close up the wound and stop most of the bleeding. But I had no idea if I could stand, let alone walk. Standing up was painful, and so I sat down again and took some strong painkillers. I didn’t know it at the time but the rock had ruptured my anterior tibia tendon that runs down the front of the lower leg and holds up the foot from the inside. I just sat there for a while and enjoyed the views, happy to be basically in one piece.

Getting out

I decided to try and first get to Angelus hut (about 2.4km away), where there was shelter, water and a radio if I needed it. The first km hobbling along and down across rocky untracked terrain was slow, painful and pretty hard, especially with no poles or branches/trees to use for support. My foot was landing awkwardly, and every time it hit a rock there was a sharp pain. But once I got onto a track, and the painkillers started to cut in, things started to get easier. 

I strapped my leg some more, and gradually realized I could probably get out alone if I took it easy, since I had plenty of daylight left  and a small head-torch if I needed it. Near Angelus hut I decided to head down to the valley floor via the sheltered Cascade track that drops down to the a hut in the main valley, rather than risking the more exposed but shorter Robert Ridge route.  It was a good call, and after 17 km alternating between rests, careful walking with a stick, and occasional bursts of slow inelegant jogging, I made it to the car before dark and drove 4 hours to an all-night medical centre in Christchurch to get the wound cleaned and stitched up. 

Surgery, plaster and crutches

While it was a great relief to get out and be stitched up, my problems were only just beginning. An MRI scan revealed the extent of the tendon injury. At least one doctor confidently told me I would probably not be able to run again, at least on uneven trails. 

However, a more run-friendly doctor referred me to a local surgeon who offered to try reconstructive surgery. This would involve delicately cutting and sewing tendons together in my foot, followed by 10 weeks in plaster and crutches. It would be covered by ACC but this led to delays while ACC quibbled as to proof that it really was the result of this accident (I was told that if I had used my locator beacon this would have helped). The surgery went well,  but after 3 months in plaster and crutches (no load bearing) and a moon boot it’s amazing how much muscle you lose in your leg!  It took several days to start walking again, and more than six months before I was allowed to start running (slowly). 

(Photo: No running for a while: At home, a few days after tendon reconstruction surgery, with daughter and trail running buddy Emma)

Recovery

Curiously, I found the repair on my tendon resulted in my right foot feeling even better than it did before the accident (as in, everything had been ‘tightened up’).  I cautiously started to go back and run some old favourite routes (e.g. Cameron Hut return) and over time got faster and built up some lost muscle. I again wondered if I could compete in events, and in 2012 I signed up for two: Avalanche Peak challenge at Arthurs Pass, and the Arrowsmith high-country marathon. Somehow I managed to win both in the over-50 category (coming 3rd overall in the latter), and did the same the following year. Now 59, I’m not quite as fast as then, but still doing lots of old and new routes, pain-free, and looking forward for next year’s ‘over 60’ category.

 Lessons learned     

I’m not sure what I’d have done differently. Obviously taken more care with loose rock. But having spent many years (before trail running) climbing a number of the big peaks in the Southern Alps with friends, I was pretty aware of alpine hazards. Luckily I’d never had an accident there, but maybe because of that I’d been lulled into the false sense of invincibility and became a bit too casual. Some people have said I should have activated my locator beacon; I’m not so sure about that. In any case, it's certainly a very good idea to carry survival and rescue gear, even though you hope you’ll never need to use it. The experience has certainly taught me to appreciate what our bodies can do, and to look after them. These days I run not just for the freedom and joy of moving lightly and swiftly through our wonderful wilderness but also, more simply, because I can.