Un accidente pequeño...

Hey all,

Thought I'd tell everyone about the accident I had in Las Cajas National Park yesterday. Unfortunately it was extremely painful, though under the circumstances what actually happened was extremely lucky. It certainly could have been a lot worse.

It started at about 8am yesterday morning, which was a Saturday for those who are too lazy to check. My friends and I had arranged to meet to go for a cycle tour around the national park through a travel agency, which sounded like a lot of fun and was reasonably cheap for a full day out - only $43 after some high-class bartering. I'd been to Cajas once before and it really is a stunning place, full of mountains and lakes and pretty flora and fauna. We were also taking a guide (something which is REALLY recommended in Cajas) and hiring bicycles from the travel agency. Everything seemed to have been sorted out and lunch was included, so it looked to be a pretty awesome day. The sun was shining and everyone looked to be pretty happy.

After arriving at the park sometime after 9am, we started our downhill descent on the roads of Cajas. Ecuadorian roads are rough at the best of times and Cajas isn't typical because it's roads are really rough. This felt like it was giving me HAVS, but it was all in the name of fun even if I was trailing behind in the first stretch. After a while we started heading uphill again, which was extremely tiring considering I hadn't cycled in weeks and it's also 4000m above sea level where breathing isn't the most easy exercise imaginable.

After this short stretch we started heading downhill again, when everyone overtook me one by one - Daniela, then Heather, then Petra, then the guide... There I was at the back of the group freewheeling downhill on more or less the roughest road I'd ever been on, very happy but also extremely exhausted from the uphill stretch.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the wheel which I couldn't identify as I was too busy keeping my eye on the road ahead. The bikes we had taken were all of the quick-release wheel system, so I assumed everything was okay. In a few moments, there was another ping and then it happened - I flew over the handlebars and landed facefirst in the road.

Crikey, did I scream or what?! Unfortunately this was entirely to no avail, and within a few seconds I realised that I was quite badly injured, and that I needed to sort myself out as the rest of the group would be a few minutes ahead of me by now. Quickly I fished through my bag to find the first aid kit I'd stashed in there and began taking stock of the most serious injuries - ¡Qué intelligente! Antiseptic wipes were applied, blood was cleaned from my hands and I checked various grazes on my legs and arms. Nothing seemed to be too bad, except for the most grave injury to my face. At this time, that didn't hurt too much as I think I must have been in shock, so I tried to wash it with some water and get the majority of the blood away from the wound. It felt quite deep (and to this day I've not actually seen how deep it is) so I knew that it was important to get it covered up as much as possible. I applied (fairly roughly, might I add) a bandage, and began considering what I would do next.

In the interim, some locals went by on horseback, and with my broken Spanish I learnt that my compañeros were at the bottom of the hill waiting for me. They also indicated that my face was in a very bad way, but they didn't offer anything in the way of help. Friendly folks, the residents of Cajas (Except of course for Heather's good friend Tomas, to whom I owe a great debt)...

A little bit later, the guide and the rest of the group arrived at the scene of the accident and immediately began fussing about me. It was at this time that I realised the quick-release lock of the front wheel had, well, released. The front wheel had detached completely from the frame and was hanging on by the brakes, which were locked in position. It was no small wonder that I had come off the bike...

We sat around for a bit whilst the guide searched for the missing bike pieces, but to no avail. After a little while longer we decided that I'd have to cycle down to the rescue centre with my compañeras from the school and find a way back into Cuenca to get to hospital. By this time the adrenalin was wearing off and I could really feel how painful the wound was, but I knew that it made sense to do this as it was the quickest way back down.

So once again I mounted a bike and set off down the hill with Heather, Daniela and Petra in tow. This was the most difficult trek I'd ever done, as every single bump in the road made my scrapes and grazes and wounds throb and ache terribly. I was extremely shaken up by the time we reached the rescue centre at the foot of the hill, but at least it was a refuge.

Heather at this time revealed her awesome skills, as she is both an extremely competent Spanish speaker and also training to be a nurse. We took stock of my injuries and did our best to clean some of the wounds out, removing the bandage I'd applied (carefully...) and fixing one of our own with a handkerchief, some tissues and some stretchy gauze, all fixed in place with some plasters. They fed me paracetamol, which did no good whatsoever, and tried to work out what to do.

Daniela and Heather headed down into the village to find a doctor, as there was no telephone at the refuge to call for an ambulance, and anyway it'd take too long to get from Cuenca to the park to make much of a difference. I sat and talked to the park ranger and Petra for a little while, but it was hard to eat or drink and so I felt pretty miserable. I'd also succeeded in cutting short everyone else's day trip, for which I felt terribly guilty.

After a little while the guide came back with the bike, looking terribly worried and upset, for which I felt even worse. It really wasn't his fault, and he was such a nice chap. He chatted for a while before someone returned with a doctor, who took a painful look under the bandage and told me I needed to go to the clinic. He came back in a little while with his truck, and we drove down to the Clinica Guadalupe in Cuenca. This took about 45 minutes, in which time I was in agony as I had a cough as well, which caused me great pain. I was also incredibly tired, but it was near impossible to sleep on the rough roads.

After a while, Heather and I, along with the good doctor, arrived at the clinic where I was taken to a small emergency room and instructed to lie down. A little while later, the doctor came back with a nurse and began to work. Heather acted as my translator, medical advisor and all-round great friend as I was given 5 injections of anaethetic into the wound, had it vigorously cleaned out and was given 6 or 7 stitches inside the wound and 14 on the outside. She held my hand through the whole experience and really gave me the help I needed - so I have to thank her profusely for the everything.

After what seemed like a lifetime the doctor told me I'd had the last stitch and was more or less okay. I felt a bit woozy and the anaesthetic had worn off a bit towards the end, but I knew that between the stitches and the massive bandage strapped to my head I would be okay. He gave me a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics, and told me to take the bandage off in 48 hours and come back on the Thursday to have the outside stitches removed. Then he called a taxi and had me driven home, telling me the bill would be charged to the guide or the travel agency, for which I felt terrible.

Heather accompanied me to the pharmacy and the store for some ice, before leaving for her own home. I spent most of the afternoon sleeping drugged up on my sofa, as eating and drinking was pretty difficult at that time. Eventually I came to the conclusion that I should just go to bed, so by 11pm that evening I was fast asleep, sleeping off the worst of the injury.

And that's more or less it - we think there might be a little scar but it's on the cusp of my chin where it's out of site. It's still quite painful to open my mouth wide and I'm petrified of tearing the stitches because I REALLY don't want to go back to the clinic for more. I'm also taking 5 pills a day and sleeping a lot, but everyone has been really great about the whole thing, including the guide who - pobrecito - has said we'd be able to get a full refund, as well as paying for our hospital bills. In a way this is okay because apparently my stupid insurance doesn't cover mountain biking, but I still feel terribly guilty about it.

So thanks to everyone who helped me out in this situation - without the guide, Daniela, Petra, Heather, the doctor, the taxi driver, the nurse, my landlady, my receptionist and the park ranger the whole ordeal would definitely have been much worse. It's not been the best weekend ever, but I feel like I've made some truly great friends. And it sure was an interesting experience!