26 Ticks and 127 Hours - Wildhorse Ridge

Normally, a long weekend in which you find 26 ticks crawling on you and your friends' stuff, and then almost 127 Hours-ing yourself (the movie about a dude who cut off his own arm after being pinned by a rock in a canyon), is not cause for celebration.   But celebrate we did, as we bagged two summit highpoints in the Rockies with an incredibly scenic kilometre long ridgewalk in between, on a lightly trafficked peak this past Saturday. 

So first, the ticks.  We didn't notice them during the hike at all, but when we got back to our vehicles and did cursory tick checks, the five of us wound up finding 26 of these little bastards.  Nothing a small does of flames doesn't fix though.

Next, the 127 Hours sequel I almost starred in.  On our descent, I was hopping large boulders, and stepped on one that appeared to be solid ground.  Turns out, it was only lightly wedged between two larger boulders, so when I put my weight on it, it gave way and dropped into a crevice, trapping my leg.  Another two rocks would then fall on top as well, landing on my shin, and behind my calf, solidly wedging my foot at an unseemly angle backwards, with no give in any direction.  Had I been alone, this would have been a serious predicament.  Fortunately, Keith was a Jenga master and extricated my limb before I had to dust off my 'how to amputate your own limb' Scouts badge.

Photos below: combination of digital and film, hence some that look like they were taken with a potato.


Social distancing on a summit.




A misstep here would be a bad idea.






Photo cred: Jas.


Summit Brew: Phantom Beer Co. Strata Conflict Nordic Hazy IPA.




The start of the kilometre long ridge walk.
















It was around here where I got my leg pinned in between some boulders.