The Hike That Broke More Than My Ankle

An accident on the trail during a recent hike forced Lisa to come face to face with a feeling she’d never experienced before: self-doubt.

I stepped off a rock and swiped a low hanging branch aside, but something wasn’t right. When I looked down my foot was facing the wrong way.  My left ankle was bent at a crazy angle.

I swore and shouted and my partner crashed through the scrub behind me. 

‘What do you mean? You’ve done something bad to your leg?’

‘Call an ambulance’, I said, lowering myself slowly to the ground.

First Hike of the Season

I was up early that morning; it’d been a minute since I’d hit the trail. Tasmania’s Wine Glass Bay in March was my last hike so it was time to lace up my Salomons, fire up my hiking app, and log some kilometres on the Suunto. 

What better place to start the WA hiking season than one of my favourite hikes: Rocky Pool in Kalamunda. 

Some rain earlier in the week promised water in the pools so I was pumped. The Rocky Pool hike is a moderate 5km loop and we hoped to be home by 11am; we had lunch plans with mates. Easy.

Cruisy times ahead!

The Trail Less Travelled

We, or more accurately, I, opted for the trail less travelled.

My partner had quietly muttered ‘You don’t think we should follow the Bibbulmun Track?’ 

‘Nah, this is a good one,’ I called back over my shoulder. ‘It leads to the same place and I’ve hiked it before.’

To his credit, in the weeks since, he hasn’t actually said ‘I told you so’. Not out loud anyway.

Around 50m in I stumbled on a rock. ‘Be careful’ he said before reminding me of my friend who had slipped and broken her wrist a couple of weeks before whilst hiking. 

I laughed.

I was happily filming on my GoPro, feeling lighter than usual without my backpack or camera gear. The trail twisted though the bush, the sun was shining, birds were doing their thing, and I was filled with that ‘first hike of the season’ glow.

A little still from the GoPro. Yeah, it was a NICE day

A Rock, a Hard Place and a Broken Bone

We hadn’t even covered a kilometre when it happened. 

The last step I’d take on my left foot for quite some time.

At 61 I’d never broken a bone; but not through lack of trying. I’ve fallen off horses, mountain bikes, road bikes, and on running trails. I’m actually a bit of a klutz. I thought I’d avoided joining the ‘broken bone club’ altogether because these days I take things a little easier.

My partner lifted my hiking pants, drew a breath, and swore.

‘Yep, I’ll call an ambulance’. 

I didn’t ask about the state of my ankle; sometimes it’s best not to know. 

I probably could have fallen somewhere more convenient

Emergency Rescue

The pain was coming in waves. I breathed my way through it, channeling childbirth memories.

Despite feeling pretty ill, my practical side kicked in. I switched off my Suunto GPS watch and uploaded my walk, noting our location. The Medivac point was too far away for a helicopter rescue, which at least meant I wouldn’t end up on the evening news.  

Shock set in; my whole body shaking, pins and needles through all my limbs. I could hear my partner explaining our location to the ambos while I stared through the trees at shafts of sunlight. I even managed a photo.

POV: You destroyed your ankle

Sounds of Silence and Self Doubt

Eventually Anthony left to meet the paramedics leaving me with a jacket under my head and too much time to think.  

Rocks dug into my back and every itch felt like something crawling on me. Just my luck I thought, I’ve probably landed on an ant’s nest.

Then came silence. Maybe an hour had passed. We’d definitely chosen the track least travelled. 

Finally, I heard voices calling my name, they’d arrived. But they were on the Bibbulmun track across the rocky gully with their one wheel gurney. They turned back.

More silence. 

That’s when self doubt began to creep in. 

I don’t usually do short hikes. A standard weekend hike for me is around 12 to 15 kilometres. Sometimes I see no one all day. 

I’m always telling people to let someone know where they’re going. Do I always do it myself? Honestly, no. I’m a spur-of-the-moment adventurer. No wind; go paddling. Feel like heading bush? Off I go. Usually at dawn. 

Sure, I carry a phone and a small first aid kit, but plenty of Western Australia’s trails have sketchy phone coverage.

And then, the thought that rattled me the most. Am I getting too old to be bashing around in the bush alone? 

Wait, what?

Read more: What to Pack in Your Hiking First Aid Kit

Rescue and the Legendary Green Whistle

Thankfully, paramedic Alan arrived before my thoughts could become any more unhinged. Breathless from having crossed the gully alone, he checked my pain levels, took my blood pressure, started a drip, and handed me the legendary green whistle 

Briefly, all was right with the world. 

He then sliced through my favourite Aldi hiking sock, strapped my wayward ankle and stayed beside me while the others brought the one-wheel gurney around.

The ambos chatted while they worked; apparently bringing in the one-wheel gurney was a bit of an adventure for them too. Through my brain fog I was pleased to have made their day more interesting. 

I suspect they may have changed their minds after they’d dragged me through the bush backwards on the gurney. The return journey was rough for all of us.

Here’s that gurney again, less fun than it looks!

Emergency Department

In the back of the ambulance they gave me fentanyl and drove me straight to the emergency department at Midland Hospital. 

Over the next 20 hours, while still picking sticks and twigs from my hair, I was X-rayed, scanned, and had my leg reset by a team of four. It’s not something I want to repeat without a general anaesthetic. 

But the real MVP of the day – apart from the paramedics, doctors, and my partner – was my zip off hiking pants. The doctors were most excited that they didn’t have to cut them off. Game changer!

Hiking pants still on in this photo thanks to the wonder of zip-offs

Discharged, But Not Done

The following morning they turned me loose with a heavy plaster cast, painkillers, and enough mobility equipment to start a small medical supply store.

Four days later, I had surgery.

My orthopaedic surgeon told me I’d sustained a severe fracture, significant ankle dislocation, and had bone fragments inside my joint. Apparently you could ‘drive a truck’ between my ankle and shin bone!

Titanium plates now hold everything together, so I’ll set off airport security for the rest of my life. The surgeon performed keyhole surgery to remove the bone fragments.  

For 12 wonderful hours I felt nothing due to a complete block from my knee down. When it wore off once I got home I was in a whole world of pain.

They pretty much opened a door into my ankle

Six weeks of keeping my leg elevated means I’ve spent more time sitting than I ever have in my entire adult life. However the pain, like my watch tan line, is fading day by day. 

I have one of those cool knee scooters to experience the wind in my hair when I do get outside again. I can already see a light at the end.  

I’ve also gained a healthy understanding of how hard it is to navigate the world with one leg; how each tiny step, doorway or shower suddenly becomes an obstacle.

As for the self-doubt? I still haven’t completely worked through how solo hiking will feel from here. But I do know this: I’m determined to be fit enough to go walking in New Zealand in September. 

I’m not finished yet!

Catch me if you can!