The Fall

Our toughest, most challenging parts done (Montana), we stared to feel a little invincible. As has been my experience, fate smacks you upside the head when that happens. Just a little reminder that, hey, you're human. Apparently, Alaine's guardian angel is no different than mine - after a confident day of climbing and claiming her road from passing vehicles, a little tough love never hurt (too much!) anyone.

Sometimes Alaine would say something to me when she was behind aways. Most of her big sighs or "wohoops" or accidental rings of her bell could be ignored; I was not to worry. So we came up with a code word if she really needed help. That was, "Owieowowowie." 

So this afternoon, after a long, gnarly stretch of hard, rocky, twisty and tight (with a jamboree number of Boy Scout vehicles from Utah trying to squeeze by us-- I stopped for them in the tight spots; Alaine internally said, "I was here first, pass when it's safe, Scouty!") hill climbing, followed by some more mellow riding along the southern border of Yellowstone, we had a sudden, steep, rutted rocky climb out of the Grassy Lake Reservoir. Because of a downhill car in her path, Alaine (respectfully, granted) dismounted a short bit into the hill and said she would head back to more level ground to get her tires to grip so she could make it up the few hundred feet. I was up ahead and had a near fall and was about to warn her of the nasty terrain, but... 

I pulled up really quickly when I heard, "Owieowowowie," behind me. Turning, I saw Alaine and her trusty mount splat down on the ground - Alaine sitting/half lying on the rock and holding her left arm to her left side. "Owieowowowie! I hurt, I hurt a lot!" she was rasping out. I made a speedy return down the rutted and rocky hill to her, helped her up and to the side of the road (she was in an adrenaline induced state of independence, demanding, in a wind-knocked-out-of-her voice, that she sit on that there bit of decaying log before anything else and then have her picture taken with the offending terrain), and I made quick assessment (thanks, fire service). 

As best I could tell, she had a (most likely) broken rib (even though she thought she had skewered her heart - maybe her lung, too - with the rib--she hurt so much). Her breathing, though rapid, didn't indicate any signs of a collapsed lung. I, being more the worrier, started talking about getting help, how we might find a serviceable phone to call an ambulance or somehow get her to help (thinking she wouldn't be able to bike)--maybe some of the hikers down at the Grassy Lake Reservoir we had just crossed could help...  But a few more minutes and she was convincing me she would be fine. Just let her rest a moment.

The definitive diagnosis was made once we - she - biked another 10 miles: except for a likely broken rib, there was nothing more serious going on. I was pretty certain that her heart and lungs were intact by that point.

Though we made it to one of the campsites we'd planned on for that night, Tough-as-Nails Borgias apologetically suggested she didn't feel up to trying to sleep a night nursing a broken rib laying on the ground, so we decided to push on to the following day's destination of Colter Bay in Grand Teton National Park, where we'd planned a lay day, but not until,the following day - 17 additional miles away. Alaine figured, "I can do that." (I failed to mention that the route included an additional 1,800 feet of climbing (adding to the 45 miles and 3,200 feet we'd already done that day).

She is one tough mama.

Up to the point of the fall, the ride from Warm River was gorgeous. And even after.

The picture never captures the steepness or the evil lurking... but it was truly bad. Her smiling on the outside convinced me to let her push on.

Day 18 of straight riding, Monday, July 14, Warm River CG, ID, to Coulter Bay, Grand Teton National Park, WY - 65 miles (29 miles injured), 8.1mph avg., 8:00 ride time, 4,985 feet elevation gain. Boy-oh!