Knee vs. volcano
Injuries and learning to trust them once healed
The injury
In February of last year I developed a parameniscal cyst on my right knee that took me out of dancing for a few months, and even walking well for a few weeks. It was not my first battle of the knees. It was the second for righty and my third all together.
That’s the thing about dancing, it is not nice to your body. Theoretically, our bodies are supposed to be able to twist, to take impact, to balance, but something about throwing a bit of turn out onto those movements calls for disaster.
I was in the middle of preparing a showcase for my dance club. It was crunch time to say the least. Myself and my vice president were working day and night to choreograph, teach, clean, plan, and fundraise for this show.
And it was actually going quite well. With over 30 dancers ourselves, and a few different college clubs performing as well, we were actually piecing together an 1.5 hour showcase, all by ourselves. I think it was the first time I realized I was a bit of an adult.
And then all of my planning came tumbling down in a knee injury held aloft by a crutch and braces and ice packs and so much Advil that frat parties probably couldn’t compete with the liver damage I was likely creating.
But, a few months later, I was tentatively able to perform a pared back version of the dances I had put myself in. I still got on that stage, cried in front of an audience of over 500, and danced a solo. It was a blast, a whirlwind, and wow was I grateful to be in that show (the last one I was out with a knee injury in lefty).
It’s been over a year now since the start of that injury, and I am still learning to trust my legs and the strength they have gained since. I’m tentative especially on loose ground, on long staircases, and anything that looks uneven. I probably don’t need to be, but it is still there, that ever present worry that I might trip or twist the wrong way and reinjure myself.
Honestly? It’s terrible. I’m 22, exploring New Zealand “The Adventure Capital of the World” and I’m nervous to go on a hike without taping up or bringing extra braces and Advil. They’re things I shouldn’t be worried about, and yet I still am.
But, this past Saturday, at the top of a volcano, 2500 meters above sea level, I found myself putting more faith in my knees than I had since before my first injury in high school. And, to my disbelief, they held up so well that my muscle soreness was the only noticeable pain the next day.
The climb
I started the hike oblivious of what was to come. T had done most of the planning to get us up this summit climb, and as I often am around him, I was the blissfully unaware fiancé.
It began as just a steep, well paved, tire tread road. It was a huge grade, but it was doable with some periodic pauses and sips of water.
The view was unreal. With a dense forest surrounding us, it almost felt like Alaska, until I began noticing the palm trees, cicadas, and tropical plants that turned up at every switchback. And as soon as the trees opened to the sun? I immediately dug my camera out of my backpack.
The volcano looked photoshopped in real life, not just in my Nikon’s capture of it. White clouds were swift in their journey across our view and blue sky struggled to stay visible.
This was also the moment when I realized what I’d gotten into. The summit was at the top of this peak, and we had a long ways to go.
An hour or so later, we were climbing, hands and feet, up loose pebbles and rocks, often sliding back a few feet for each step we took.
By the time we made it through that section, we were faced with rocks akin to a bouldering gym. We climbed those for an hour until the summit.
I won’t lie to you all, my summit came early, out of fear for my knees. So I enjoyed the sun on the sheltered side of the mountain while T embarked on the 20 minute journey to the top. This was 7 kilometers in and just about 1500 meters climbed (4.5 miles, 4900 feet).
The temperatures dropped to the 30s around the bend to the summit so I was perfectly happy basking in the warmth of where I sat.
The backwards climb
The journey down was nothing short of disastrous. A few slides down the loose rock section, T realized his phone was still at the summit. My legs were done, so I continued on my slow journey down the mountain while he faced his second summit of the day.
There was a well deserved bit of fear in both of us as we parted, headed opposite ways on a 2500 meter mountain, it took a lot of trust, and knowledge in each others wits and ability to get safely back to our van.
Immediately after he was out of sight, I faced these loose rocks on my own. It honestly was quite scary, not because of my fear of heights, it wasn’t cliffy, but because we too much momentum, this could turn into a personal water slide made of rocks. There wouldn’t have been anything T could’ve done if he was hiking down with me, but some moral support sounded pretty nice.
After skidding 10 feet on my ass, I found some in a group of British guys (I think) hiking down with their dads (wtf!?). They were skiing down those rocks with no cares in the world, and that was the confidence boost I needed. I sped up, laughed with them when we all fell, and made it through the section almost unscathed.
(I will be nursing a purple thigh bruise for probably 2 more weeks at this rate).
Just after making it through the loose rock section, I received a text from T through another hikers phone:
“Got phone on way down- T”.
When I made it to the end of the trail, I guessed he was about an hour behind me. I busied myself filling our waters, peeling oranges, making him food, and planning our needed groceries (electrolytes, dinner, etc). And, while I paced the car park, I planned his rescue if he wasn’t back in the time frame of 2 hours.
This proved difficult as our van was manual, (I can’t drive manual) and his phone had zero service, so it would involve a lot of nice people finding him, driving me or me and our van to the hospital, etc. Basically I spent an hour panicking about not knowing how T was doing on that mountain.
An hour later, he ran into the car park (yes he jogged the last stretch), blasting his classic rock playlist from his phone, collapsed on the grass, and I proceeded to feed him orange slices.
Yes, we survived, yes I’ve left out the majority of his account of this climb, yes I’m glad I didn’t have to summit again.
In summary
I was quickly humbled as an Alaska grown girl. Many hikes we see here in NZ are walks from my perspective, but this climb has taken the cake for the hardest hike I’ve done. Yes, it is worse in my brain than it actually is because of our mishaps on the climb, but I probably would never do it again if given the chance.
Prior to this, the worst I’d faced was a sudden blizzard on top of Verstovia in Sitka. Maybe that is more dangerous, but I know that trail well enough that we made it down totally fine.
And finally,
Knees 1 : Volcano 0
Thank you for joining me on this journey, I hope you enjoyed it. And in all honesty, what an incredible climb this was.
I enjoyed reading this story. Once again, great story telling! That's fancy kt tape. I've learned that my skin can't handle the adhesive, even the kind for sensitive skin. I'm glad you don't have that problem and delighted that you were able to climb that mountain. It feels great to overcome something so difficult. I felt that way about climbing Edgecumbe. I too will never hike it again. But I'm so glad I did. I still have the clear view from the summit as the wallpaper on my phone! I'm looking forward to hearing T's story about the climb.
I tried quite hard to add photos and captions to this but gave up on my phone, I’ll try to add more when I’m on my laptop again.