The Aspiring Rescue

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The guy was not impressed that the newspaper referred to him as a middle aged man. We thought the assessment was very kind;, if he hadn’t reached middle age yet that meant he would certainly live to be 100! I was not impressed that the newspaper neglected to mention how charming the Canadian nurse, who had controlled the deadly bleed, was. She is, let me assure you, very charming indeed! Quin was not impressed with the antihistamine cream; he was up all night scratching.

I once read that New Zealand’s most famous mountain guide is a Tasmanian. I can’t rank the level of fame of any of the NZ mountain guides, but there is no denying that Geoff Wayatt is a well known mountaineer in these parts. He has guided Mount Cook dozens of times and Mount Aspiring more than 90 times in his 38 years in the Wanaka area. Our paths first crossed when Geoff was providing leadership at the Lake Louise Ski area. This was during the transitional years when the hill took over the responsibility for avalanche safety from Parks Canada.

Beryl Wayatt was born in Edmonton and was familiar with the lay of the land in the mountains of Alberta and BC, having climbed and skied with many of Canada’s finest mountaineers. She and Geoff married and she emigrated to NZ where the two started a family as well as the Mountain Recreation, School of Mountaineering. The business was thriving when they made a decision to pack up their kids, leave their home and have a go at life in the mountains of western Canada. The experiment was a success, but the lure of the Southern Alps was too much so they returned home to New Zealand.

The Mountain Recreation Avalanche Hut has a breathtaking view of Mount Aspiring and is located in the national park which bears the mountain’s name. We always feel very fortunate when hiking in any national park in any country; they are very special places. We felt extremely privileged to be invited by Geoff and Beryl to stay at their backcountry hut in the heart of the park. We were told to expect about a three hour hike through rolling pasture land occupied by the requisite herds of sheep and cows. The hiking track was mostly easy, fit for light running shoes. The main challenge came in the multiple stream crossings, 27 or so. Many required simply a step across; others provided significant rock hopping challenges. I suppose you could simply stop and take off your shoes and wade through the knee deep water, but the rock hopping just seemed more fun, and faster too or so we figured.

We walked, stepped across and rock hopped our way up the valley. We were making good time and even passed another party along the way. At well over the half way mark we decided to take out first break. We sat, munched and swatted sand flies, which are small black flies that resemble the small black flies that Canadians call Black Flies. Before resuming the stroll we noticed the family we just blew past on the trail. They forded the streams barefoot and that really slowed them down. The 5, 7 and 9 year old kids may have contributed to their pace, or maybe the wound on the father’s shin, but I assure you, we did blow by them. In any case, this is not meant to be a competitive story, the family of five approached the ford and we decided to help them out since it was one of the widest crossings so far. I approached the stream from one side and the father approached from the other. The large gauze dresssing taped to his left shin was almost off and did little good. I could see the bright red blood oozing down his leg from 20 metres away Angie, who was 10 meter farther back on the bank recognized right away that she should have a look at him.

I helped the kids with the crossing while Angie went in for a closer look at the substantially bleeding limb. We both maintained, he should go back to see a doctor. He explained, they were from England and it had taken his family 5 hours to get this far. He reasoned the Alpine Club hut was close and it would be much easier on the kids than heading back. We agreed with his rationale, decided to clean him up and help both he and his young family to the hut.

The gauze came off and it was all I could do not to say, “Holy moly look at the size of that hole, oh and by the way that white stuff is your shin bone!” It was at this time when the proud papa moment arrived with vigour. The Blake family rescue teamed snapped into action. Without prompting, Jordan and Quin both detected that the situation was more serious than we expected. Jordan gently swooped down on the three kids, told stories and prepared them for the walk. Quin assisted with the surgery by pulling out medical supplies and fetching water. Angie gloved up and cleaned the wound.

The injury wasn’t as bad as it first appeared but it was deep and needed stitches. We patched him up the best we could and ready him for travel. We could really empathize with the amount of effort they had put in and we knew they would certainly fondly remember their time in the backcountry hut. Steri-strips, sterile dressings, some fancy adhesive products that only a nurse would know how to use and some good old direct pressure did the trick. Angie stopped the bleeding, controlled the pain with some analgesic and the guy was ready to travel. We advised the guy he may not be able to walk out the next day, but still figured with only a few hours of light left, the hut was the reasonable answer.

Quin volunteered to carry the guy’s 16 kilo (35lb) pack and he soon had the nine year old son in tow through the fields. He imparted his twelve year old wisdom and insights, while they plodded along making good time. Jordan was like Mary Poppins telling the two daughters wondrous tales of magic, faeries and mythical creatures as they marched right along. Angie reassured the guy’s wife and told her what to expect the next day and gave her some pointers if it should bleed through the pressure dressings and when to call for help. Twenty minutes past and I glanced at the dressing, things were holding well. Not two minutes later the guy noticed a bit of red showing through. An instant later the dressing was saturated with blood which again ran down his leg. I told him to have a seat while I went to find the hut warden; we needed to reassess his wound and start making a plan to get him out of the valley.

We were less than one km from the Aspiring Hut, which is nicer than most hostels we stay in, so I was able to fetch the warden and return in about 15 minutes. Caroline was a Scott that had been enjoying her second summer as a hut warden, checking permits, working on trails and pulling non-native plants, thistles being the worse. We soon returned and the two of us just about burst into laughter at the scene. Quin had the kids in a circle around the fire he built using hand sanitizer to fuel the flames. He had changed into his PJ’s and was wearing his flip flops, apparently ready to spend the night if need be. The guy’s wife made hot chocolate for the kids and the tea was just ready for us on our arrival. Jordan assisted Angie in putting more absorbent dressings on the wound and again the bleeding was stopped.

Tea time, regardless of the hour, is always a pleasant experience and this occasion was no exception. The hour was getting late, the hut beckoned and the swarms of black flies prevented any real relaxation. We resumed the limp ??? along and this time we made it to the hut about an hour before nightfall. Spirits were high, the family had made their destination and Caroline radioed her base to make an evacuation plan for the next day. Angie felt it would be okay for them to spend the night but she would just have to check the wound one last time. Her last dressing held well and showed only a moderate amount of recent bleeding. The inner dressings were saturated so she thought it needed further assessment to investigate what was really happening with the wound. It would be, after all, 12 hours at least before the guy could see a doctor. Removing the fancy adhesives proved to be the most painful part of the procedure as large patches of hair were removed. Can you believe women pay to have that kind of procedure?

By now, with the amount of blood, the steri-strips had soaked off and the wound was open again. One wipe with a gauze pad to clean things up and look out! Arterial spurting sent blood 50 cm’s into the air and all over the world map on the wall, a direct hit on New Zealand and Australia. Angie and I glanced at each other; her subtle nod was enough to signal a change of plan. I told Caroline to get the helicopter fired up as Angie worked to control the bleed. Pressure and elevation did the trick and again a thick absorbent dressing was applied. Caroline made the necessary emergency calls and the chopper was on its way.

A media lawyer from England, lying on the couch, leg elevated with a registered nurse holding direct pressure on an arterial bleed, in a backcountry warden cabin in the southern alps of New Zealand is not likely to be at his best. All the while however, the guy seemed more worried about the loss of the hut experience that his children had looked so forward to. Angie and I assured him that, since his kids got served hot chocolate beside a roaring illegal fire, got to play in the Alpine Club hut and a warden cabin not to mention they helicopter ride, his family’s experience was only going to be enhanced by his little mishap. He thanked us many times and expressed that he felt extremely lucky to have had us happen along in his time of need. I said it was fortunate for him under the circumstances but if he was extremely lucky he wouldn’t have fallen and punctured himself in the first place. He didn’t think that was funny and thanked us again.

The helicopter arrived with two medics and a police officer, slow night I guess, and of course they wanted to speak to Angie about the patient’s condition. Not being bound by the same ethical and professional standards as Angie I urged her to steal away into the falling darkness before they arrived. We were on our way when Caroline had beckoned Angie to return. She met with the medics and relayed the information while the first load of kids and gear departed for the parking area in the swoopy A-star chopper. Two flights and a few stitches later, not to mention the personal escort of one very kind police officer, had the dad, mom and kids reunited at the Wanaka medical clinic. Never truly a life threatening emergency, the trip had proven to be harrowing and a very distressing event; one I’m sure they won’t soon forget.

Of course by now it is almost night and we have four kilometres and the most significant elevation gain to go. We slowly made our way along the roughest part of the trail through the dark forest and over some very cool, albeit slightly ancient suspension bridges. We had head lamps but decided to hold off until we absolutely needed them. Lucky for us as the light faded the trail quality improved and we found the well hidden hut in earnest darkness. Luckily we had brought a pre-cooked meal, which we never do on these types of trips, and we consumed it with enthusiasm. Over diner we alternated between nodding off and proudly recounting the story while congratulating each other on our respective roles in the day’s events. Dishes done and the jazz worn off, it was straight to bed and look only 1:00 am!

The next day we were treated to stellar views of Mount Aspiring as we took our time enjoying the hut and the valley before trekking for the trail head. It seemed that Aorearoa (the land cloud) had acknowledged our efforts and granted us clear skies on the high peaks. The people at UNESCO sure knew what they were doing when they designated this area a world heritage site.

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