I rushed to the man who was lying on his side and being attended to by his wife. AS I was one of the first on site after the apparent accident, I asked if anyone had called 911. No one could get a signal on their cell phones in this treacherously mountainous area. I pulled my much-hated blackberry from my pocket, fumbled with my password, and found that I did indeed have a signal. I immediately dialed 911. After far too many rings, the emergency operator picked up. I explained the situation with what little detail I had at the moment. The operator said she was dispatching help immediately.
As I was on the phone, several other drivers stopped to offer assistance. After talking to the wife, I discovered the man had swerved to avoid hitting a doe and in the process hit the young fawn following her, killing the little one and toppling the motorcycle in the process. The man was conscious, but in obvious pain. At about the moment I fully understood what had happened a police officer arrived. He made a quick assessment of the situation and asked me and a couple of others to help him move what remained of the bike.
Just as we cleared the road, three tour buses pulled up and an army officer in camo jumped off. He yelled at the other buss and out came about a dozen soldiers with full EMT gear in hand. They began to examine the injured man. When the local EMT’s arrived moments later, their first view was the man being cared for by an army doctor and surrounded by an entire platoon of soldiers in full camo.
As the situation seemed well in hand now, I offered the man’s wife my well wishes and excused myself. It felt good to be able to help, even in some meager way, but there was nothing more I could o. And so, I continued my drive another 50 miles south.
When I finally reached my destination, I noticed a number of fly-fishermen casing into the narrowly winding river. It reminded me of “A River Runs through It”, the Robert Redford film. It was quite a site to see the men cast to and fro as their lures taunted the fish below.
Finding the trail head I began to walk a short path alongside the fiver until the source of my attention draw about a quarter of a mile from my truck. The area was heavily fenced and had a plethora of signs speaking of imminent danger and possible death from exposure. Casting my eyes toward the opposite shore (a mere 20 yards away), I saw two stepped pools of bubbling light blue water. There was a hint of sulfur in the air, but not as pungent as some other hot springs I had seen. Steam rose off the pools and I watched as the boiling water ascended over two dwarf falls and finally merged with the river. What a site it must have been to have discovered this phenomenon.
With the time spent at the accident, my hiking day had come to an end. I returned along a dusty gravel road to my truck and headed home.
