I’m an expert crasher. I try to average at least one major dive a year. Seems pretty frivolous to mention after all of the important news from Nepal. But this is not like an earthquake. It’s preventable. Just ask my children, who feel that if I’m trying to kill myself, this is an unceremonious way to die and needs serious addressing. So I hasten to remind them that I have never, repeat never, fallen on a trek or a mountain (except once on the top of Mt. Washington, where I understandably tripped over my new, unfamiliar hiking poles) or even on the sidewalks of Asian countries like Myanmar, where one misstep can land you in an open sewer with a broken leg. I specialize in monasteries, trains of questionable quality, and city streets where the pavement is supposed to be smooth. And where you don’t expect potholes or crooked pavement. If only my recent mishap had occurred in New York City I could have sued for a million dollars and been on easy street. But, alas, I had to pick Tacoma, Washington, unfamiliar territory for my Guardian Angel, who was probably snoozing, anyway, while my own thoughts were on the hike I was about to take with my buddy, Jon Pollack, of Annapurna fame. And therein lies the rub.

I’m always amazed at how few Good Samaritans there are at such times. There I was, having smacked my head on the pavement and scraped myself to a fare-thee-well from top to bottom, and in the process of wiping the blood from my clothes, when a man walked by, cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Are you OK?” he asked, desultorily.

“Oh, sure,” I replied. “I sit on the ground every Friday and bleed. It’s a religious ritual.”

“Hrrumpff,” and off he went leaving me to pick myself up and move my car to the garage where Jon and I continued packing. Forty Band Aids later we took off, and in seven hours were in beautiful Columbia River territory setting up camp for a three day hike in the woods.

Three weeks later, the hiking having been superb and my purple shiner almost gone, I started to have numbness in my left hand. When it moved to the face and my speech started slurring I got scared. Thus began a series of tests…CAT scan, MRI, and MRA. It was an education for me, and not one I care to repeat. Seems I sustained a small subdural hematoma which was attempting to re-absorb into my head, while poking into my right brain and causing me to babble. That’s all you need to know, except that all is well and I promise never to fall, again. It just ain’t worth it!

Here is the beginning of my summer hikes.