Lost and Found and Another Mishap

DSCN5599

January 7, 2014

My rescuer Dave and I continue the fairly difficult 1.5 mile climb toward Bull Pasture, an actual pasture which early ranchers used for their cattle.  Very soon I begin to struggle.  I’m thinking my adrenaline is dropping from the fright of being lost in the desert.  I’m quickly out of breath and a little tired.  I tell Dave I need to stop and rest a minute, drink a little water, and get my heart rate back to normal.  He complies even though we had really only progressed a few paces.  We both drink water and chat for a few minutes.  I’m feeling much better so we begin again.  Immediately I am struggling again.  I just feel weak.  The trek is difficult but I have hiked much more difficult trails.  In September, Stephen and I completed a four-day backpacking trek in the High Sierras of Yosemite.  Just a few months ago I hiked to a glacier in Great Basin National Park with my 22-year-old son, Phillip; and kept up with his youthful legs just fine.  I tell Dave I don’t think I can make it all the way to Bull Pasture and encourage him to go on without me.

Dave leaves me on the trail and I just sit there trying to decide what to do.  I have no energy to return to the trailhead.  Plus I am not a quitter.  I know better than to push beyond my limits; but this is not above my abilities.  I really want to accomplish my goal and sign the book at Bull Pasture.  The decision is made for me because suddenly I feel very nauseous.  I scramble behind some cactus and proceed to loose my breakfast, picnic snack, and lunch. I tossed all of it.  And felt so much better!  Yay!  It was just nerves caused by being lost, confused, scared, and subsequently rescued!  I can continue the trek!  I can sign the book and let the world know that Ruthi made it all the way to Bull Pasture in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument!  And this time I will stay on the trail and not follow a wash.

With eyes focused on the trail, not on the scenery, I pick up the pace.  Maybe if I hurry I can catch Dave.  After a while I begin to get a headache.  Oh no!  Dehydration!  That’s what it is!  But I have been drinking and drinking and drinking.  I refuse to turn back now so I take two Advil and keep going.  I continue to drink water thinking my headache will eventually subside.  I make it to the spur for the ascent to Bull Pasture and, after a series of steep switchbacks, I arrive to find Dave, a spectacular view of Mount Ajo, and the sign-in book.

A few pics later, we begin the return 2-mile downhill trek to the trailhead and our vehicles.  My headache is not getting better, but it is not getting worse.  We hike for quite a while before I tell Dave to continue because I want to stop and throw up.  He moves down the trail and waits while I toss up the water I have been drinking.  He asks if I am ok and I tell him I think I am just dehydrated; although I have been dehydrated once before in Big Bend and the headache was a lot worse.  And I have been drinking plenty of water.   The entire return trip continued with this routine:  Dave moves down trail and waits, I throw up the water I  ingested the previous 15 minutes, Dave asks if I’m ok, and I tell him I am dehydrated, I’ll be fine once I get back to camp.  This sequence occurs four or five times until we reach the trailhead and our cars.  I thank Dave from Oregon for finding me when I was lost in the desert near the Mexican border, listening to my chatter when he wanted to be listening to the sounds of the desert,  and babysitting me while I vomited all the way back down the mountain.  I inform him he has a friend from Texas for the rest of his life, and get in my car.  What should have been a 2-3 hour moderately difficult trek turned into four hours of nauseous humiliation.  Stopping twice to throw up during the 11-mile all-gravel drive, I arrive at camp just before sunset, crawl into my tent, and attempt to rehydrate and sleep off the headache.  Only things continue to deteriorate.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s