Tag Archives: Engadine Valley

One more injury hiking the Engadin

Gentle Reader,

The 3rd and most dramatic day of my hiking-in-the-Alps adventure this past Sept. occurred on day 5.  Pedie Jolly and I left the other two hikers at the Via Engadina junction above Grevasalvas where they would pass the “Heidi” house. We trudged on up beyond the tree line to a high lake just below a dramatic escarpment, at 8261 ft.  The trail was far more exposed than anticipated with shear drops to the left of us and uneven boulders to climb over. We were both dangling our hiking sticks from the left hand while clinging to rocky outcroppings with the right.  There was no looking down.  It reminded me of climbing Mt. Shasta in 2006 when my right foot crampons had only the inside 5 spikes engaged with the icy ground and I steadied myself with a well planted ice axe.  Even a thin line of grass along the outside edge of the trail made me feel as though I would arrive safely at the lake.  It was an opportunity to study my mind and how just a bit of green changes fear to a sense of security.  Pedie and I were thrilled to arrive at this lake, hike in a moonscape, where two or three others were already having their lunch. 

The lake at the Lunghin Pass, above Maloja, is part of the most notable triple watershed in western Europe, from where the Inn (Engadin Valley where we hiked) flows via the Danube to the Black Sea, the Maira via the Po to the Mediterranean Sea, and the Julia via the Rhine to the North Sea.  Depending on which direction we emptied our water bottles, those droplets may have run north, south or east, something too grand to envision.

Finding the way over a knoll and down was tricky and the path was slick with thick frost anywhere the sun had not reached.  It was already 2:30 in the afternoon and we still had the entire descent to accomplish.  The view was breathtaking, and for one moment, I lost my focus on my feet.  The trail was steeply downhill, wet and covered with schist, extremely slippery. Down I went, putting my right hand out to catch myself.  Instantly I knew I had hurt my wrist.  The fingers and thumb still functioned but pain shot up my arm when I put any pressure on my hiking stick.  I collapsed it and stuck it in my pack.  Pedie, walking behind me, and I had a 1000 ft drop in 2 miles.  It was slow going.

We caught a bus to our hotel in Sils Maria whereupon a driver took me immediately to St. Moritz, the glitzy place we’d been avoiding. It was 5:30 on a Friday.  No problem for this emergency clinic used to mountain injuries.  After several x-rays, an examination and lengthy discussion of two young doctors, they decided to cast my arm.  Neither the x-ray tech nor I thought I had broken anything, but I was glad to have protection for the last day of hiking and all the hauling of luggage on and off trains over the next 5 days.  Here I am with my bright red cast riding the train to Pontresina at the end of our hike.

The final day of hiking was in the Italian speaking part of Switzerland along a contour trail with many slippery, water soaked ups and downs assisted by chains or hand rails.  I couldn’t use them as they were all positioned for the right arm.  My right arm was cradled in a sling.  I was relieved to climb over the last of the tree roots, climb the last rocky stretch and walk into the most beautiful, remote high mountain village we’d been in yet: Soglio.  A long soak in the hot bath revived me.  Cold beer and good food gave a sense of triumph.  We had made it, a 50 mile walk in 6 days from the lower Engadine River to its headwaters and then down the other side.

Our bus ride back to the starting point took a couple hours. We could spot the ending and beginning points of each day’s hike as we retraced our steps to Pontresina.

What does one do when injured hiking?  Keep moving.  Get the injured limb as comfortable as possible.  Find a skilled clinic.  The x-ray tech in St. Moritz told me she does 6-8 of these castings a day in the ski season.  She knew what she was doing.  I had travel insurance and have filed my claim.  The clinic visit was $1000.  I took plenty of my herbal pain relieve and really didn’t suffer much.  By the time I got to the Villa Lina north of Rome 5 days later, I took off the cast and participated fully in the writers’ workshop for the week.

Will I have arthritis in this wrist?  Possibly.  Just like any joint injury, trauma creates structural stress and one is likely to pay the price with increased arthritis in the future.  I am using this right hand, wrist and arm fully, noting any twinges and backing off when necessary.  The osteoarthritis I deal with doesn’t seem any worse. In fact it is only on the days that I don’t get out and walk that I have pain.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the hike stories and will share yours with my readers.  Have old injuries come up to haunt you?  What are you doing to stay limber and keep moving?  Take a minute to leave a comment.  Come on over to Face Book and friend me, www.facebook.com/betsyjbell.  Sign up to get the next posts.  I have some great new research from Johns Hopkins about knee replacement to share with you next week.  You won’t want to miss it.

Fondly, Betsy

Be Well, Do Well and Keep Moving

BetsyBell’s Health4u

www.GrandmaBetsyBell.com

206 933 1889  1 888 283 2077

betsy@hihohealth.com

 

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Heart attack? Climbing high

Gentle Reader,

How do you survive trekking at a high altitude?  The second day of our Engadine Valley hike in Switzerland began and ended from the little village of Zuoz, a bus and train ride from Guarda where our 1st day ended.

No more sciatica or lower back pain.  No more arthritis troubles with Pain Relief Complex on board.  Now the only task was to climb from 5700 ft to 8400 ft. to Escha Hut.  We knew it would be hard, but we managed to make it harder.  Instead of muscles spasms and a struggle with osteoarthritis, the pain and suffering of the day was mostly in my head.

As we climbed, I was short of breath. Then came the unsettled stomach.  Then a feeling of light headedness.  We passed a couple in their late 70’s from Zurich who had been in Zuoz over the weekend to play bridge and stayed on for a couple days to “take a little walk” in the area with their retired seeing-eye dog.  Looking very out of shape and carrying only a light nap sac, these two seemed to climb this trail with ease.  They did turn back when the path left the farm road and joined the cow tracks leading straight up the treeless slope.  Paging through all I know about women and heart disease, reviewing in detail my mother’s congestive heart failure symptoms and subsequent death AT MY EXACT AGE, I managed to get myself into a panic, anticipating a heart attack any moment.  At one point I called out “Would you just glance back here once in a while to see if I’m still upright?”  At this point Jaco, my Dutch friend, decided to walk behind me.  I later learned that all of us were struggling with shortness of breath. Chris, the 83 yr. old veteran of several Mt Rainier climbs, reminded us of deep inhales and slow, whistling out breaths.  The gals in front were already taking 10 steps and resting for a couple breaths.  I was absolutely sure I was having a heart attack.

At the top, we had the most delicious pumpkin soup, thick and creamy, sitting in the sun, our backs against the stone wall of Escha Hut, a busy place in the summer and even busier in the winter.  A mountain biker peddled up the way we went down, paused for a drink and went down the way we had just come up.  Way more impressive than Lance Armstrong.  No doubt powered by his own lungs, blood and muscle, this cyclist was out for recreation.

As we sat there gazing at the Bernina mountain range in the distance, completely covered with snow at 13,000 ft, I remember my first ascent to 10,000 ft on Mt. Shasta and realiz

ed I was suffering from altitude sickness, not heart disease.  The relief was so great, I fairly danced down the far side of the valley, past this amazing high mountain field of art. 

To avoid the precipitous downhill trail, we cut through a pass and circumnavigated the mountain in front of us, extending out trek by an additional 7 miles, making it a 14 miles day.  The benefit was this shot of a marmot late in the afternoon, one of many familiar critters scampering and diving into their burrows.  I’d been looking for them as all the telltale signs of marmot, just like in the Cascades, were everywhere.

One more physical challenge before our 6 days RyderWalker self guided trek was finished.  Tune in next Thursday for more pictures and that story.

 

 

 

 

Now let’s hear from you.  Have you had altitude sickness?  Were you aware of what was happening to you or did you think you were having a heart attack?  We’d like to hear your story.  If you enjoyed this read, pass it along.  Check me out on Facebook:  betsyjbell, and while you are there, ‘like’ my business page, https://www.facebook.com/BetsyBellsHealth4U.

Fondly, Betsy

Be Well, Do Well and Keep Moving

BetsyBell’s Health4u

www.GrandmaBetsyBell.com

206 933 1889  1 888 283 2077

betsy@hihohealth.com

 

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