The Saturday of Memorial Day weekend dawned with great promise. I had plans to hike the Moats with my coworker Sue and her partner Sandy. It was going to be a warm day, but was forecast to be sunny and breezy, a nice combination especially during bug season (the wind keeps the bugs away). The plan was to head in from the Diana’s Baths parking lot, up Red Ridge to the Moat Mountain Trail, over Middle and South Moat, and down to a car spotted at the Dugway Road end of the trail. We’d all, on separate hikes, been on the Moats before in bad weather with limited views, and were looking forward to seeing the views from the open ridge line and summits.
We met and left a car at Dugway Road then headed up West Side Road to the parking area for Diana’s Baths. From there it was an easy 0.6 miles on a nicely-graded, handicap-accessible path to the cascades that form well-reputed swimming holes. We knew that with the forecast warmth it would be a popular destination for many that day. The cascades looked beautiful, but we had no time to explore them.
From there, the Moat Mountain Trail meandered through the woods until the junction with the end of the Red Ridge Trail. We immediately had to cross Lucy Brook. This is a flat, easy crossing; however, the issue with flat crossings is that it only takes a few inches of water to make it difficult to keep your feet dry. The small stepping stones were just barely enough. Of course, it would have been easy and safe to have gone across bootless through the water. And fortunately we did not have the knee-deep conditions that The Unstrung Harp had a few weeks ago.
From this point the trail wandered through the woods, which were breezeless and getting warm. The bugs weren’t bad, either, so long as we kept moving. We crossed a fire road, followed a brook, and about three miles from the road we made one final crossing and started up the base of Red Ridge.
This was a remarkable spot, as the forest character immediately changed. We rose steeply on solid, variated rock strewn with moss, evergreen needles, stubby trees and scrubby vegetation. It wasn’t long before we had our first view, looking down the ravine. It only got better as we rose up, passing through stands of trees alternating with open spots and ledges. Unfortunately, as the views opened up, so also did the black flies get worse. A lot worse.
We came to a beautiful open spot on Red Ridge and settled down for lunch. The black flies immediately swarmed. I covered myself in DEET but was forced to also put on a bug net when I discovered that I was already bleeding from the numerous bites behind my ears. Lunch was tasty, we’d gone a considerable distance without any food at all, and we soaked in the views until we could stand the bugs no more. That was when I discovered my first mistake: I’d set my pack down on the mouthpiece of my hydration bladder and drained most of my water out onto the ground (and soaked my pack and camera bag, though thankfully not the camera itself). I had about a quarter-liter left, plus a full-but-frozen liter. I kept the bottle out of my pack to thaw along the way.
We encountered some other hikers at the junction, rejoined the Moat Mountain Trail, and started our descent off the ridgetop towards Middle Moat. That’s when I screwed up.
It was an easy step down on the trail, only about 18″ of vertical from a sloping rock face back into the trail corridor. My right foot was on the rock as my left foot reached forward, when suddenly my right foot slid on the rock and I came down hard onto my left foot, slamming it (I think) into the side of the trail. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I felt a “pop” in my left ankle and went down. Apparently I let out a blood-curdling scream but I cannot confirm or deny that, I just know I was down on the ground on my knees, in excruciating pain so bad that I could not move a muscle. It was several minutes before I could even gather my wits to move.
I was able to stand up, carefully, so long as I kept most of my weight on my right foot and what I did put on my left foot, I put perfectly straight onto my heel. Sue and Sandy caught up and were extremely concerned given the scream and the look on my face; however, I was convinced it was only a sprain and wanted to go onward. We were close to four miles from the car, and my only desire was to get there and be done with the hike.
I pulled out my hiking poles and continued very slowly down the trail. It was shortly after one o’clock. The ascent to Middle Moat wasn’t bad, and the views outstanding. Fortunately, there’s not much of a col between Middle and South Moat, though I by now had given up the battle against the black flies and was wearing my bug net full-time.
It was harder to descend without pain or instability, so the journey off South Moat was somewhat grueling. This is some pretty neat terrain, a mix of smooth, slippery ledges, vegetation, and trees. Of course, that made it all the more difficult for me. Even though the last half-mile of trail is beautifully graded and smooth, overall it took four hours to get to the car from the accident site.
Now, before I go on, I need to emphasize that this was a terrific hike. I enjoyed both the company and the views. I would also highly recommend the Moats and especially the Red Ridge Trail. Despite my injury and a zillion black fly bites, I finished this hike with a big smile.
When I got back to camp I found quite a bruise on the side of my ankle, and assumed that besides spraining it I had knocked it into a rock. The next day it was swollen fierce, and still hurt badly, so instead of hiking I spent the better part of the day soaking it in the campground swimming pool. As you might guess, a New Hampshire pool in late May is not warm, and it felt great.
Monday morning, however, it was clear there was a problem. The swelling was out of control, and the bruising downright scary. We made our way home in end-of-holiday traffic only to find that the local clinic was closed for the holiday. Figuring that there wasn’t much difference between late afternoon Monday and first thing in the morning Tuesday, I chose to wait. I was at the Waltham Urgent Care Center the moment they opened, and was quickly seen and x-rayed.
The x-ray technician put it best when she said “I think I see your problem.” The doctor quickly confirmed: I had fractured my fibula. They sent the x-rays over to an orthopedic surgeon at Newton-Wellesley Hospital and even made an appointment for me to see him later that day. He gave me relatively excellent news: the fracture was barely a millimeter out of alignment, a better precision than he could get with surgery. All I would have to do is wear a walking cast (big black velcro thing) for a week while the swelling went down, then get a real cast for another five weeks. The entire medical staff was shocked that I could walk and wasn’t in extreme pain.
So that’s where things stand (hah!) right now: it sucks, and it’s going to suck until mid-July. But all things considered, I made out pretty well: I didn’t have to be evacuated, I don’t need surgery, I’m not in very much pain, I can drive and work. The biggest problem I have is distinguishing the pain: is it the bruising, soreness from immobility, or the actual fracture? The latter is a concern, the former two less so. I also have to drastically cut my calorie intake, since I won’t be hiking, bicycling, or really even walking around.
Good times!
We met and left a car at Dugway Road then headed up West Side Road to the parking area for Diana’s Baths. From there it was an easy 0.6 miles on a nicely-graded, handicap-accessible path to the cascades that form well-reputed swimming holes. We knew that with the forecast warmth it would be a popular destination for many that day. The cascades looked beautiful, but we had no time to explore them.
From there, the Moat Mountain Trail meandered through the woods until the junction with the end of the Red Ridge Trail. We immediately had to cross Lucy Brook. This is a flat, easy crossing; however, the issue with flat crossings is that it only takes a few inches of water to make it difficult to keep your feet dry. The small stepping stones were just barely enough. Of course, it would have been easy and safe to have gone across bootless through the water. And fortunately we did not have the knee-deep conditions that The Unstrung Harp had a few weeks ago.
From this point the trail wandered through the woods, which were breezeless and getting warm. The bugs weren’t bad, either, so long as we kept moving. We crossed a fire road, followed a brook, and about three miles from the road we made one final crossing and started up the base of Red Ridge.
This was a remarkable spot, as the forest character immediately changed. We rose steeply on solid, variated rock strewn with moss, evergreen needles, stubby trees and scrubby vegetation. It wasn’t long before we had our first view, looking down the ravine. It only got better as we rose up, passing through stands of trees alternating with open spots and ledges. Unfortunately, as the views opened up, so also did the black flies get worse. A lot worse.
We came to a beautiful open spot on Red Ridge and settled down for lunch. The black flies immediately swarmed. I covered myself in DEET but was forced to also put on a bug net when I discovered that I was already bleeding from the numerous bites behind my ears. Lunch was tasty, we’d gone a considerable distance without any food at all, and we soaked in the views until we could stand the bugs no more. That was when I discovered my first mistake: I’d set my pack down on the mouthpiece of my hydration bladder and drained most of my water out onto the ground (and soaked my pack and camera bag, though thankfully not the camera itself). I had about a quarter-liter left, plus a full-but-frozen liter. I kept the bottle out of my pack to thaw along the way.
We encountered some other hikers at the junction, rejoined the Moat Mountain Trail, and started our descent off the ridgetop towards Middle Moat. That’s when I screwed up.
It was an easy step down on the trail, only about 18″ of vertical from a sloping rock face back into the trail corridor. My right foot was on the rock as my left foot reached forward, when suddenly my right foot slid on the rock and I came down hard onto my left foot, slamming it (I think) into the side of the trail. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I felt a “pop” in my left ankle and went down. Apparently I let out a blood-curdling scream but I cannot confirm or deny that, I just know I was down on the ground on my knees, in excruciating pain so bad that I could not move a muscle. It was several minutes before I could even gather my wits to move.
I was able to stand up, carefully, so long as I kept most of my weight on my right foot and what I did put on my left foot, I put perfectly straight onto my heel. Sue and Sandy caught up and were extremely concerned given the scream and the look on my face; however, I was convinced it was only a sprain and wanted to go onward. We were close to four miles from the car, and my only desire was to get there and be done with the hike.
I pulled out my hiking poles and continued very slowly down the trail. It was shortly after one o’clock. The ascent to Middle Moat wasn’t bad, and the views outstanding. Fortunately, there’s not much of a col between Middle and South Moat, though I by now had given up the battle against the black flies and was wearing my bug net full-time.
It was harder to descend without pain or instability, so the journey off South Moat was somewhat grueling. This is some pretty neat terrain, a mix of smooth, slippery ledges, vegetation, and trees. Of course, that made it all the more difficult for me. Even though the last half-mile of trail is beautifully graded and smooth, overall it took four hours to get to the car from the accident site.
Now, before I go on, I need to emphasize that this was a terrific hike. I enjoyed both the company and the views. I would also highly recommend the Moats and especially the Red Ridge Trail. Despite my injury and a zillion black fly bites, I finished this hike with a big smile.
When I got back to camp I found quite a bruise on the side of my ankle, and assumed that besides spraining it I had knocked it into a rock. The next day it was swollen fierce, and still hurt badly, so instead of hiking I spent the better part of the day soaking it in the campground swimming pool. As you might guess, a New Hampshire pool in late May is not warm, and it felt great.
Monday morning, however, it was clear there was a problem. The swelling was out of control, and the bruising downright scary. We made our way home in end-of-holiday traffic only to find that the local clinic was closed for the holiday. Figuring that there wasn’t much difference between late afternoon Monday and first thing in the morning Tuesday, I chose to wait. I was at the Waltham Urgent Care Center the moment they opened, and was quickly seen and x-rayed.
The x-ray technician put it best when she said “I think I see your problem.” The doctor quickly confirmed: I had fractured my fibula. They sent the x-rays over to an orthopedic surgeon at Newton-Wellesley Hospital and even made an appointment for me to see him later that day. He gave me relatively excellent news: the fracture was barely a millimeter out of alignment, a better precision than he could get with surgery. All I would have to do is wear a walking cast (big black velcro thing) for a week while the swelling went down, then get a real cast for another five weeks. The entire medical staff was shocked that I could walk and wasn’t in extreme pain.
So that’s where things stand (hah!) right now: it sucks, and it’s going to suck until mid-July. But all things considered, I made out pretty well: I didn’t have to be evacuated, I don’t need surgery, I’m not in very much pain, I can drive and work. The biggest problem I have is distinguishing the pain: is it the bruising, soreness from immobility, or the actual fracture? The latter is a concern, the former two less so. I also have to drastically cut my calorie intake, since I won’t be hiking, bicycling, or really even walking around.
Good times!
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