Sometimes the hardest part is coming down

It's officially been one week since I arrived in Oregon, and it feels like I'm starting to settle in.

This week has been a mix of exploring and paperwork. I got approved for Oregon health insurance, found a mailing address, and started the process of transferring my driver's license. I'm still waiting on proof of address before I can file everything, but at least the ball is rolling. I've also spent the week getting to know Altan a little better and checking out some of the trails around the Gorge.

A couple of days ago I had planned a pretty ambitious hike. My goal was to make one big loop and see Multnomah Falls, Wahkeena Falls, Fairy Falls, and maybe even Angel's Rest if I was making good time. Unfortunately, I forgot that it was the Friday before the Fourth of July.

The Gorge was packed.

Every parking lot anywhere near the trailheads was completely full. I drove around for quite a while before finally giving up and parking much farther away than I had planned. Then I couldn't even figure out where the trail started. There were what felt like four different paths leading into the woods, and naturally I picked all of the wrong ones first. Every trail seemed to end at some giant basalt rock wall that probably looked like a fun challenge to a rock climber but definitely not to me.

Eventually I found the Gorge 400 Trail and decided I'd just start hiking and see where it took me.

Honestly, that ended up being a pretty good decision.

The Pacific Northwest is exactly what I imagined Oregon would be. Everything is unbelievably green. Ferns cover the forest floor, moss grows on just about everything, little creeks wind through the woods, and the whole place feels cool, peaceful, and almost magical. I absolutely love it here.

Altan was having just as much fun as I was, sniffing every interesting smell he could find and stopping to splash through every creek along the way.

I had packed for what I thought might end up being a ten-mile day. Plenty of water for both of us, snacks, electrolytes, my first aid kit, and a few emergency supplies all went into my backpack. It wasn't exactly light, but I'd rather carry things I don't need than need something I didn't bring.

As it turned out, I only hiked about six miles.

That probably doesn't sound like much, but here's the thing people don't always realize: six miles with almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain isn't an easy hike. It's considered a strenuous one. I've done longer hikes before, but climbing almost 3,000 feet and then turning around to descend all of it is exhausting in a completely different way. The uphill burns your lungs. The downhill punishes your knees. By the time I reached the top of Multnomah Falls, I knew the hardest part of the day was probably going to be getting back down.

Along the way I found this beautiful little creek and decided it was the perfect place to stop for lunch. I sat with my feet in the freezing cold water while Altan happily ran around splashing through it. Every now and then he'd shake himself off, making sure I got just as wet as he did.

There wasn't another person around.

It was quiet.

Peaceful.

And apparently the perfect place for me to once again decide that pants were optional.

After a little break, some fruit, granola, and electrolytes, we kept going until we reached the top of Multnomah Falls. Looking down from up there and realizing just how far I'd climbed was pretty satisfying.

The hike back started like every other hike back does.

Very carefully.

Going downhill has always been harder for me than going up. My knees aren't the biggest fans of steep descents, which is exactly why I carry trekking poles. They give me a lot more stability and take some of the strain off my joints.

Unfortunately, they were about to earn their keep.

The section of trail near Cougar Rock is narrow, and the vegetation has grown in from both sides. You can only clearly see the middle of the trail. On one side the hillside goes up. On the other it drops away pretty steeply, but all the brush hides where the edge actually is.

At one point my left foot landed on a loose rock.
The rock moved. I didn't. At least not in the direction I wanted.

My left leg started sliding down the hillside while the rest of me was trying very hard to stay on the trail. Thankfully I had my trekking poles. I managed to jam them into the ground while my right knee slammed into a rock and twisted awkwardly underneath me. Somehow that stopped my fall before I ended up sliding down the hill.

After pulling myself pack on the trail I just lay there for a minute letting the adrenaline do its thing.

My pants were ripped, my knee definitely hurt, but I wasn't bleeding badly and I could still walk. At that point my only goal was getting back to the truck where I could figure out exactly what I'd done.

The hike back was slow. But what I remember most wasn't my knee.

It was Altan.

Earlier in the day he'd been running ahead, exploring everything he could find. After I fell, I kept giving him the command to go ahead of me like he normally does. He refused. Every single time.

Instead, he stayed directly behind me for the rest of the hike. Step for step.

Later I looked it up because I'd never seen a dog do that before. Apparently dogs are incredibly good at recognizing when we're hurt. They notice changes in the way we move, our body language, even the stress hormones our bodies release. Whether that's exactly what was happening or not, I don't know.

What I do know is that the goofy, carefree dog I'd been hiking with all morning suddenly decided his job wasn't exploring anymore.

His job was making sure I got back safely.

We eventually made it back to the truck, and I drove home without any problems. I got Altan settled with food and water, took a shower, and started icing and elevating my knee.

At first I wasn't overly worried. I figured I'd banged it up pretty good and it would probably be sore for a few days.

A couple hours later, though, things changed. The pain wasn't what concerned me. It was the instability.

Earlier I'd managed to hike almost three miles back to the truck. Now I could barely put weight on my leg without my knee wanting to buckle underneath me.

Years ago I tore my MCL and meniscus snowboarding. Being young and stubborn, I walked around on it for six months before finally going to a doctor. This injury actually hurt more than I remembered that one hurting, and this time I also had a dog I was responsible for taking care of.

That was enough to convince me not to wait.

Urgent care had stopped accepting walk-ins, so they sent me over to the emergency room instead.

Not exactly how I imagined using my brand-new Oregon health insurance for the first time.

The good news is that nothing is broken. X-rays looked good. The bad news is that there's still a pretty good chance I sprained or tore my MCL, so they put me in a knee immobilizer and referred me to an orthopedic doctor.

Needless to say, my Fourth of July ended up looking a little different than I'd expected.

I'd already promised Jesse I'd take both dogs out for some exercise, so the next morning I strapped on the brace, grabbed my trekking poles, and figured I'd take them down to the river where they could run around while I mostly stood still.

Turns out my definition of "a short walk" and reality are two very different things.

The river is about three miles round trip. Healthy Kara apparently forgot that detail. So we took it slow... Very slow.

Ragnar entertained himself just fine. Altan, on the other hand, still wanted to stay right beside me. I eventually started throwing his ball as we walked just to convince him to burn off some energy instead of constantly checking to make sure I was okay.

By the time we got back to the house that afternoon, I was completely wiped out.

So instead of going out to find fireworks or a parade, I spent the evening on the couch with my leg elevated.

Honestly, it turned out to be exactly where I needed to be.

I could still see fireworks through the windows, and more importantly, I was there to keep Altan company. He wasn't a fan of all the explosions outside, so we watched the show together from the safety of the living room instead.

Today has mostly been another day of resting, icing, and trying to be patient.

Tomorrow it's back to paperwork, phone calls, and now one more thing on the to-do list: finding an orthopedic doctor.

I guess that's how life goes sometimes.

You make plans for waterfalls, end up in the emergency room instead, and somehow the thing you remember most isn't the injury at all.

It's the dog who quietly decided that getting you home was more important than exploring the trail.Read more