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I didn’t expect Olivia to show up for the hike, but when I arrived in the parking lot, both she and Kathy were there. I don’t know what I had done to make Olivia avoid me, but obviously I had done something wrong. But this morning, I sensed a shift. Both women greeted me with a cheerful, “Good morning.” Olivia wore an expression of—it was hard to put a finger on it—ah, an expression of guilt. I had seen that look before on Nik’s face some time after he knocked me out of my boat in the National Championship race. First came the rage, later the guilt.
“Thank you both for taking me on this final hike of the summer,” I said.
“We better get cracking then,” Kathy said with her usual enthusiasm to go out and bust a gusset climbing a mountain. We climbed into the Kawasaki. Like the first time, Olivia drove, Kathy sat next to her. Only this time I brought my down coat. I put it on and climbed into the back. Olivia started the Mule, breaking the pristine silence of morning with the growl of the engine, slipped it into gear with a jerk, and headed up the road. The cold and crisp morning air promised that autumn had arrived.
Soon, we came upon the now familiar weathered sign nailed to a tree stump that had McGregor Mountain Trail Summit, 7 Mi. etched into it. I added the elevation gain of seven thousand feet, over two thousand meters, in my mind. Olivia pulled off the road and parked the Mule. We each jumped out. I took off my down coat and stuffed it into the bottom of my backpack, and we each donned our packs.
As we dove into the forest on the trail, this felt to be the bookend of my summer. Hiking this mountain was one of the first things I had done after arriving, and now it was capping off the season before I traveled back home.
Kathy took off at a rapid pace, followed by Olivia then me as we trod the soft and welcoming trail of dirt and forest loam. The trail climbed and we settled into a comfortable pace.
No chatter broke the silence this time around, as we all seemed lost in our own thoughts. I caught Olivia glancing back at me now and then. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe just to make sure I was keeping up. After a couple of hours, we took a break. We found a sunny spot where the tall trees graciously allowed sunlight to penetrate, and each found a spot to sit, me on the grass, Kathy and Olivia on rocks. We all took off our packs, drank deeply from our canteens, and dipped into snacks.
I think we all began to feel sleepy as the sun warmed us, but Kathy broke the silence.
“Luka, it won’t be long before you catch the Lady for your last ride outta here. What are your plans?”
Ah yes, plans. The real world. Back to my authentic life. This had just been a brief and much-needed intermission. An immersion into a foreign world to take my mind off, well, off everything that had come before this moment in my life. “I’m going back home to Croatia.”
“To a job?” Kathy prodded.
“Maybe something new,” I said. The thought of returning to the power company conjured up dreadful memories.
“You’ll keep competing? Like the races where you met West?” Kathy asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Kayaking used to be my entire life, and I can’t let it go.”
Olivia listened to our conversation but said nothing. What a puzzle she was. Without a word, we all stood at the same time, put on our packs, and continued our ascent.
I felt good and knew that this time, if I kept my head about me, I could make the entire climb. The trail ascended toward the steep drop-offs. After four hours of hiking, we approached the spot where the trail began to change from soft loam to talus when Olivia’s gait changed.
At first, she began to limp subtly, and list off to one side. Then it got worse. She looked as if she were trudging through mud in slow motion, as if she could barely lift her feet. I thought she made a small whimper.
“Olivia?” I asked, reaching out in case she fell.
Kathy turned around and saw Olivia. “Oh shit,” she said.
Olivia seemed to be turning to stone. Her legs stiffened and her hiking books now drug through the dirt. “No,” she moaned. “No, no, no!”
Kathy stopped and we both rushed to her side. She looked at each of us with wide, glassy eyes. Tears began to spill over.
“What’s wrong?” I pleaded. “Tell us what’s wrong.”
“I know what’s wrong,” Kathy said flatly.
“Don’t say it,” Olivia commanded in a harsh voice that didn’t sound at all like her. “He doesn’t need to know.”
“Know what?” Confusion engulfed me. “Is she having a stroke? A heart attack? What’s happening?” Then without thinking I took her into my arms. “I’ll help you. Whatever you need, tell me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She felt stiff in my arms, like hugging a broom.
“Luka,” Kathy snapped me out my rising panic, “can you carry her? Can you carry her all the way back down the trail? We have to get her out of here.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out a radio. “Park Service, Park Service, we have a Mayday on McGregor. This is Kathy from Stehekin Wilderness Ranch. We have an emergency and need an air ambulance stat. I think we can get to the Stehekin Valley Road near the Old Wagon Wheel trailhead in a few hours.”
The radio hissed with static, then a voice came through. “Roger that, Kathy. We’ll call it in. What’s the nature of the emergency?”
Kathy’s blue eyes settled on Olivia, who in turn seemed to be pleading with her.
“We have an incapacitated female, age thirty-eight, conscious but unable to walk. That’s all I have.”
“Roger. Air ambulance will meet you on the road near the trail head. Do we need to send out a rescue team? Over.”
“Can you get her down the mountain, Luka?” Kathy focused her penetrating gaze on me.
“Yes,” I answered.
Kathy hesitated then nodded. “No team required,” she spoke into the radio. “Over and out.”
“Good luck,” came the voice over the radio.
“I’ll take both your packs.” Kathy added both packs to her own. “And Luka, whether you carry her or drag her, you have to put your own safety first. It won’t do anyone any good if you injure yourself and become part of the problem rather than the solution. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said, adrenaline shooting through me. I remembered the fireman’s carry we had been taught in the army. I squatted in front of Olivia and wrapped my right arm around her right knee. Then I stood and raised her right thigh over my right shoulder, draping her over my back like a shawl. I started down the trail. What had seemed like an easy descent the first time now seemed filled with treachery. Rocks threatened to roll out from beneath my boots like marbles. Roots reached out to snag my boots trying to trip me. I couldn’t drop Olivia, no matter what.
Olivia, light and petite, had gone limp and hung on me like dead weight. She stayed conscious, and occasionally whispered “Are you doing okay, Luka?” But her quiet voice seemed strained. After an hour, the adrenaline wore off and my muscles bore the brunt of the effort. At first, it was no big deal, but soon the lactic acid burn I was accustomed to in upper body when I paddled in a marathon race settled into my larger muscles—my thighs and butt. But I couldn’t let anything stop me or slow me down. I would do whatever it took to get Olivia off the mountain safely.
Every now and then, Kathy would pipe up. “How you doing, Luka?”
“Good,” I would grunt, then save my breath for the task at hand.
It took three hours to make it back down the trail. When we were nearly out, Kathy became a little more talkative. “You’re doing great, Luka. Really great. The National Park Service has their own air ambulance helicopters. They should be waiting for us. We’re almost there.”
We heard the helicopter approach as we descended, and when I hit the flat area of the trail, I picked up the pace until there, in the middle of the road, sat a single-rotor red, white, and blue helicopter. It reminded me of the medevac units used for training in the Yugoslav army.
Two people in uniform jumped to attention when they spotted us. The pilot stayed in the cockpit. The other two, a guy who said he was an EMT and a woman who introduced herself as an RN, picked up a stretcher and met me halfway. They took Olivia from my back and placed her gently on the stretcher, then leaned over her, taking vital signs before lifting her into the chopper. Kathy spoke with the doctor and nurse for a moment, her voice drowned out by the roar of the engine and the reverberation of the rotor as it began to spin.
Kathy ducked and jogged over to join me.
“I want to go with her,” I said.
“Can’t. They said they’re flying her to Harborview in Seattle. That’s where you’ll have to go to see her.”
The wind whipped dirt, pine needles, and forest debris into the air, slapping us in the face as the helicopter lifted off and climbed into the air. We watched it until it disappeared.
Without Olivia’s weight on my back, I felt lighter than air, but suddenly empty. So empty.
“You know, don’t you, what’s wrong with her,” I accused Kathy.
She looked at me with a determined, grim expression. “I’m sworn not to tell anyone. I’m sorry, Luka. You’re a hero. You were amazing today.”
“Where is this Harborview?”
She put a hand on my shoulder, a gentle touch. “Let’s go back, have some coffee, maybe a bite to eat, and I’ll show you on a map.”
As we headed to the four-wheeler, I took one backward glance toward the trail. I would never make it to the top of McGregor Mountain, but that goal seemed meaningless now. I only cared about one thing. Olivia.
