Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
He appeared to be in his mid 40’s. He had raggedy salt and pepper hair. His eyes had finally come to a more normal position and he closed them. He was breathing a very shallowly. His eyes were the deepest green I had every seen. He had a two or three days worth of whiskers. His teeth looked white, clean and he had no dentures. He was about 190, maybe 6 foot 2 inches tall. There was no bleeding from his eyes, ears, or nose.
The rest of his body had no visible wounds or bone deformities. When I touched his feet he jerked his legs up.
Ghost commented, “Did you check out his tattoo?”
I noticed it. It was a squirrel holding an automatic rifle.
“Ghost said, “Maybe his one of your Frugal Buddies?”
As I sat next to this unnamed man, Ghost brought in an army cot, set it up. He put a Thinsulite pad on it, and then pulled out another shower curtain from the linen closet, he laid that down, and then layered a flannel sheet, Chux, another sheet and a Chux. (Chux are bed pads for infirm adults) on it, then another sheet. He put a sheet on the ground next to our patient. Then we rolled him onto it. Then using the sheet we picked him up and put him on the cot. I covered him up and used some bathrobe ties to tie him to the cot to keep him from rolling off he were to awake. It had been over fourteen years since we lost our son. Ghost remembered the drill on setting up a clean bed and transporting a body. What a trip.
Ghost continued reading from the manual. He said, “This book does not have in it what we need. Where is you old EMT Book? I gently reminded him that he had sold it at our yard sale. He gave me a sour look and then said, “Ok. Where are your survival books?” I directed him to a box of books I had stashed in my closet. He brought them down from the loft and said, “Ok. You told me so.” He began scanning the book Where There Are No Doctors. “Well, we should watch him and maybe turn him so that if he vomits he won’t choke on it. And after a while check to see if we want to deal with the hand.” I untied the guy, we gently turned him on his right side and put a pillow in front of him to keep his left hand elevated.
By then the water was at a rolling boil. Ghost took part of the water and poured it into a smaller pan and added almonds, cinnamon, a sliced up apple, and oats. He poured the rest into a wash pan for me to use. I gently began to wash away the blood that had soaked the man’s arm and torso. As I washed him he began to moan a bit. By the time I got to his hand he had awakened.
He looked at me with steady eyes and said, “Are you Sis?”
I was startled. The only folks who called me Sis were my real blood brothers and buddies on the Frugal Site.
I shook my head yes.
He said, “Dang girl, you are hard to find! I am from Happy Camp. I moved up from Smell Ay (LA) a month ago. I always thought you lived in Hoopa.”
I continued to slowly remove some of the bandaging from his wrist.
He said, “I was working on the retrofit of the Forest Service Fire Tower up on Look Out Mountain. After the snow started melting and the quakes happened I thought I should head down the mountain to town to check on my family. I am an electrician by trade and a welder by hobby.”
I continued to cut away the bandages, getting closer to the hand. He winced and blew out a strong breath.
“I was using a trenching tool and caught my hand in it. I saw my thumb and finger get chewed off. I put my hat on my hand and got in my rig. I tried to drive myself down the road for help. All the electrical in the fire tower were down. I could not think straight. I kept thinking of Jenny and my two boys. I remembered to hold my hand out of the window and up high. But it is hard to steer and shift one handed. I recognized his mid-west accent.
(He may have moved up from LA, but he was a Wisconsinsonian/cheese head by birth. I just love that accent.)
He continued to ramble, “I turned the wrong way down the forest service road. I ended up coming down your long a** road. I figured someone had to be home because of the tire marks in the road. As I drove down the road I started recognizing it. It is just like the way you describe it on the Frugal site. Even though I came in the back way, once you are on it, you know it is your place. I saw the sign “Eyesee Two Creeks, All Unwelcome Never Leave” sign. About a half mile up I ended up taking out a madrone tree by crashing into it.” e
As he was talking Ghost started trying to raise Bubba on the CB.
By this point I had cut away most of the blood soaked cap. I left the stubs of the thumb and fingers covered. I gently cleaned around them and said, “Ok, what we have here is a major trauma to your hand. You have lost some digits. I want to re-bandage them and get you medi-vacked to Yreka for some real doctoring. I am not skilled at suturing your head; you need x-rays to see if you have bone fractures in your hand. The major bleeding is controlled but you can go into shock. Can you hang in her for Jennie and the boys for a bit while we get a copter in for you?”
The man looked up and said, “Yeah Sis. Who is that other gal over there?” as he looked over my shoulder towards the ceiling of the cabin. Ghost and I looked at each other and then up to the ceiling.
I said, “Come on brother, you need to rest a bit. I want to make you my famous garlic, onion, chicken soup. You need some fluids. Are you nauseous?”
“No, your friend sure has a beautiful voice.” He replied. He closed his eyes and soon a gentle snoring came from his exhausted body.
Ghost said, “I can’t raise Bubba, I will drive up and arrange transport. We can have the copter land in the middle field. We can bundle him up in the sheets and blanket. Find his wallet and bag up a set of clothes for him so he has something to wear when he gets out of the hospital.
As the still unnamed stranger rested I dug through his jeans and found his wallet, a really cool knife, his comb, a can of chew, and a clean bandanna. Amazing, the guy sees his thumb and fingers chewed off and he puts his cap on it. All the while he had this nice clean bandanna he could of used.
Being the noisy woman that I am I opened up his long haul trucker style of wallet.
In it I found a mini address book, his electricians union membership card, his NRA card, 16 Red Cross class cards, his Social Security Card, an uncashed pay check, the business card of the head forester in Happy Camp, his medical insurance cards, his Mercy Air emergency helicopter transport card, and finally his drivers license.
What a shock! This fella was none other than …….
The Burly Man.
Recent transplant from Glendale California.
The Flying Patriot Squirrel who designed alternative energy systems for fall out shelters.
Siskiyou Islands Part 1, Chapter 7
Siskiyou Islands Chapter 7
The bedroom is filled with the sound of rain still falling heavily outside. It is bizarre to see rain after so many months snow. The once white mountainside is now bare of snow and there are hundreds of many streams coursing down the steep slopes above the cabin.
We get up and Ghost starts to make the coffee and his famous oatmeal. I stoke the fire and bring in more wood. We go about our morning routine not talking. Just being together is good enough. After I feed the cats we sit down and with pencil and paper list out our priorities for the next few days.
1. Check the conditions on our forest service road and at the same time stop in to check on the neighbors.
2. If they are not home, then feed their dogs and horses and leave a note.
3. Bring the chainsaw and fuel to clear the road. We decided to open it up because our closest neighbor has arthritis in his knees and hips and he will not be able to walk up the steep road we live off of.
4. Drive to the Forest Service Wildland Fire Station and check in with Mike the winter caretaker.
5. Check the river level. With all the rain we were expecting flooding of more of the highway and we wanted to make sure a family we knew was safe and out of harms way.
6. Double-check our caches on the road out.
Seemed like a lot to do in the dreary rain. We both noticed immediately that the air temperature had also increased and it was actually balmy. A bad sign with so much snow pack in the upper elevations. We switched out of our snow boots to rubber boots, loaded our gear in the truck, packed a lunch and dinner, got the rifle and bear spray and headed up the road.
The way out way of our place is very steep and rough and after a bit of time we got to the inner gate. As usual we locked it and made our way the last two miles to the outer gate. This was the gate we shared with the forest service. We locked it and made our way down the mountain toward our nearest neighbor.
As we pulled in we saw smoke in the chimney and the dogs came barking to the truck. Ghost tooted his horn and the front door opened and Bubba came out.
He is long time resident of these beautiful mountains. He spends his summers running a river rafting business on the Klamath, Salmon, Smith and Rogue rivers. Winter and spring he is a river drift boat guide for anglers.
His lady is a consultant with the county office of education guiding families in home schooling their children. She is responsible for many adults conquering illiteracy and gaining their high school diploma or equivalency certificate.
Bubba and she also have a very reliable radiophone.
“Well I see you made it home Sis,” he says in his usually gruff tone of voice. At 5 foot 6’ and a solid muscled body his voice and stature makes him a formidable rafter and guide. His salt and pepper hair and bushy beard and deeply lined eyes show the years he has spent on the river.
“Marta (his lady) is stuck up in Yreka. The radiophone system has been taken over by FEMA and I can only make personal calls out between 4 am and 5 am. Finally got a hold of her today at our daughter’s place. Seems that Yreka is still impacted from the flooding from Iron Gate dam going down. There are also a couple of bridges down near there. The FEMA refugee camp at the Fairgrounds is full up with Interstate 5 travelers and big rigs. The Ashland Summit is closed due to a massive rockslide. The California Highway Patrol Check Point has been re-opened and is manned by National Guardsmen. The dams at Whiskeytown and Shasta have not yet burst. The authorities were releasing a huge flow out of both dams and minor flooding was occurring along the Sacramento River.”
We decide to split up the list of neighbors to check on. Bubba will go to the folks who live on the upper fork of the road and we will cover the lower two neighbors places. We decided to meet at the downed trees to work together with Bubba to clear them out of the way.
Ghost and I get back in our truck and head to the first neighbor below Bubbas place. It belongs to middle-aged couple that also has lived on this mountain for over 24 years. He was a forest service employee who commuted to work near Susanville east of Interstate 5. He had worked in our local forest service district but got a transfer when the local office reduced its staffing. His wife was a home craftswoman who had developed a profitable business using her treadle sewing machine to make custom apparel. She had a circuit of craft shows and fairs she displayed her wares at. Her at home business allowed her to raise her children, garden and fish, and hike a lot in the Marble Mountain Wilderness, which abuts their property. With the use of sa satilite internet hook up she had been building up her mail/net order business and had reduced her craft fair circuit substantially in the last year.
Now that the snow was almost totally gone we were able to drive within a hundred yards of their house. Due to the snow they had had to shuttle their gear back and forth from the road to their place using cross-country skis and using packs. They had been a part of an original collective which bought the old homestead and over the years some of the partners had sold out and new folks joined. In all told there were 67 acres with five families living on them. Most of the kids were grown and had moved to the coast or the big city only to move back to the area after a while. All of the children valued their homeland and found ways to make a living and start their own families.
Drake and Mandy’s house had no fire going. We were greeted by the small pack of dogs jumping up on us. As we made our way to the front door we saw that wood was neatly stacked on the porch and the house appeared to be stable. Ghost went and checked on the propane tank and the powerhouse. All was in order. I peeked in the windows and saw that Mandy had been in the middle of a big project. Stacks of cut fabric pieces were neatly arranged in rows on her long oak table. I wrote her a note on her pad of paper hanging from a piece of twine by her doorknocker. While I wrote the note Ghost fed the dogs and checked on chickens and rabbits. He fed and watered all of them. I told Mandy the time and date we were there, that the animals were taken care of. We hiked out to the truck and head on down the road to the next neighbors place,
They were a small family with one boy a sophomore in high school. The mom was my coworker at Orleans and her husband was a mule packer for the forest service in the summers and a bus driver in the school year. All three of them had not made it home. I silently prayed for them as we fed their dogs and cats and horses and mules. We checked the house and it seemed to be ok. Checked the propane tank. We left a note for them and then on the way out of their drive we locked their gate. We knew where they kept their spare keyand we figured it would be long while before their elder child, a daughter would make it back home from college in Chico. She’d want to know that the place had been made a bit more secure. Who knows if the rest of her family made it through the tragedy of the last few days? Chico was a good 6 hour drive away on a good day, it could be weeks before she hike home.
Throughout the morning we had been feeling small after shocks but nothing like the day before. As we made our way down the road to the highway we tried to get in a station on the radio. We live in a black hole for cell phones and radio stations. Even the new satellite radio services are unreliable in our region. Finally picked up a station out of Ashland called Jefferson State Radio. We stopped the truck in order to not lose the signal by driving out of range. Jefferson State Radio is a National Public Radio Station provider and tended to play a lot of classical music. What we heard on the broadcast made our blood curl.
Seems that the rest of the nation had begun having quakes as well. All along the Mississippi corridor small to moderate quakes up to 5.5 had happened in the last 12 hours. The New Madrid fault had gone off with an amazing 7.3 quake. Massive relief efforts were beginning to respond to that disaster. Mount Lassen was also spitting out more and more steam and ash. And quake activity in Yellowstone was also increasing and Old Faithful suddenly stopped its regular eruption schedule. Martial law had been declared in most regions of the United States. As the station started to recap and dissect the meaning of the news we turned off the radio and continued on our way.
When we got to the trees across the road we proceeded to buck them up and pull the slash away. We bucked the wood into stove lengths and stacked them on the high side of the road. When we were almost through Bubba pulled up and said he was late because he had to deal with a propane leak at the neighbors. He also stopped to fix a couple of water bars on the road. He asked to go along with us to the Forest Service Wildland Fire Station conserve fuel.
As we drove up river on the highway we looked down towards the river and Bubba said, “Holy smoke, I have never, ever seen the river so high.”
Water was rushing down the edges of the highway and couple of times Ghost hydroplaned the truck. As we neared Look Out Road we saw the highway swallowed up by the river, which had over flowed its banks. Ghost backed up a quarter mile to get the truck a lot higher and we all got out and bushwhacked above the river to get to Look Out Road. Below us the highway was under at least four feet of water and the mailboxes were quickly becoming submerged. We walked up Look Out and got to the station about 20 minutes later. We see that Mike’s rig is in the yard. The rain starts to fall even heavier and we are glad to make it to the porch.
We knock on the door and Jim ,Mike’s son answered the door. With a timid smile he invites us in. Mike comes out of the kitchen carrying his baby daughter Patsy and tells us to take off our rain gear and boots. Jim helps us hang them up and then he goes back to the puzzle he is working on at the coffee table.
Mike begins to fill us in on the latest he knows about the situation both up and down river. His communication set up is excellent. He is a Ham operator, CB enthusiast, light plane pilot, EMT, fire fighter and all round welder and mechanic. He is also Ghost’s black powder shooting partner. As a young man in his early thirties he had done his time in the service were he met his wife Big Sue.
Big Sue was a local born and raised Karuk full blood Indian woman. She stood a regal 5 foot 11” and after having two children in a short time she had packed on a bit of weight. It was just enough weight to make her a bit scary if you got her riled up.
It is mystery to those who don’t tknow he couple very well as to how a fair skinned and blond haired New Yorker like Mike could win Sue’s heart. While in the Coast Guard in South Carolina they met, courted and wed. They actually did not meet at the base. They met fishing in the Outer Banks. When Sue told Mike about her land allotment waiting for her, her basket weaving, her family and people he fell in love. As the children came they grew even more dedicated to one another and they also figured out how to escape the east coast and move back to the Siskiyous.
With savings and an old Rambler they drove cross-country with baby Jim. Mike won a seasonal Forest Service wild land fire-fighting job, which then lead to the winter care taking position, which included housing for his family.
The station was well set up and secure. It was two miles up Look Out Road. Well above the rising river. Look Out continued up the mountains and joined into numerous unpaved forest service and a few private roads leading up into the Marble Mountain wilderness. With snow melting it meant that these roads would end up being our primary transportation routes due to washed out bridges and highway sections. You could use them to get to Happy Camp to the north, Forks of Salmon to the east, and after we dealt with the locked Forest Service gate near Hay Press Meadow we could get to Somes Bar by vehicles.
We spent the rest of the afternoon eating our sack lunch, soaking up the heat of the wood stove, and listening in to the short wave radio. After much discussion we decided to continue our patrolling of the neighborhood and to go to Bubba’s to try and call relatives the next morning. Mike had already checked in with those folks who lived above him higher up Look Out. We learned that all was well with the 12 homesteads above Mike’s. All the families were home and intact. They had a patrol schedule set up. Mike was working on getting permission to get the locked Forest Service gates opened. So far FEMA wanted limited access and in and out of our area.
The Look Out folks decided to have the key copied at the maintenance shop at the station and that if the O.K. did not happen then we would be able to still have access and and we could lock the gates up behind us. It is a running joke about the single key used nationwide for forest service roads. Mike said that he a lot of other locals agreed with FEMA that it would be wise to limit access to our area from the "general" public. The consensus was to keep the roads accessible for locals and lock out undesirables.
As the rain let up we left Mike’s home and hiked back to the truck. In the twilight we could see that the river had risen considerably higher. After driving back up to Bubba’s and returning home we stoked the fire and ate our sack dinner. Ghost brought out a pint of home brew and poured himself a glass. I rested on the couch thinking of all the things I wanted to get from the trailer. We had asked Bubba if he’d let us hire him to get our gear. He said he would trade a weeks labor for three round trips with his boat.
As the night grew darker the rain began to fall even heavier than earlier in the day. We went to bed and slept soundly again.
Siskiyou Islands Chapter 8
After a restful night of sleep Ghost and I got up, he fixed breakfast, I stoked the fire, and we fed the animals and made of list of items to get from the trailer. We drove to Bubba’s and arranged for him to follow us to the river put in. We donned our life vests and Bubba went over his rules for safety in his guide boat. Ghost road point. He watched for hazards in the water and kept his rifle at the ready. I scanned the shore and roadway above us for any movement. There was none. We quickly maneuvered around the debris of the downed bridge. The going was quick to the second downed bridge. As we came around the bend after the bridge, Emma a good friend of ours who lived just above the new high mark of the river flagged us down.
Emma relayed to us that her family was doing fine and would we pick up a few supplies for her at the Somes Bar store. She handed over her list and asked us to charge it to her account at the store. She offered us coffee or tea, we passed on her kind offer. She promised us loaves of fresh baked French bread and rolls on our return trip.
It is amazing how fast the journey back down river went in the boat versus walking the distance! After we arrived at the put out point above Ishi Pishi Falls we realized we had to figure out who could get our stuff from this side of the river to Bubba’s boat. Bubba said he’d work on that while we went to the trailer.
The water was high, but not high enough for Bubba to risk his boat to the falls. We agreed to meet back at the Store in six hours. We still had to arrange transport up to our old trailer on Thunder Mountain at the store and back again.
We hiked up to the store and the owner greeted us with a warm, “Nice to see you walking and talking.” His grin and handshake were strong. The National Guard had delivered the mail the day before and we got ours, Emma’s and all the mail for the folks on our road. The storeowner gave us the official ok to make the federal mail deliveries. We left Emma’s list and asked the owner if his CB was operational. He said yes and we called up Roger. Roger agreed to come down and pick us up at the ferry point and would help us load and transport our gear. He asked if Ghost could come by in a month or so to help him repair the quake damage to his barn and house.
We met Roger at the ferry crossing. The ferry man agreed to wait on payment and asked if we’d front him a six pack of brew till we were able to pay him in full. After the quick ride up to the trailer we pulled out our list and quickly assembled all the weapons, ammo, and foodstuff Thomas and I had already moved out of the trailer. We loaded up Rogers truck and then went into the now dangerously leaning trailer and continued to add to our pile of gear the rest of the items on our list.
The List:
Pressure canner.
Canning jars and lids.
Cooking Pots and Pans.
Dishes and Sliver wear.
Wood Drying Rack.
Three boxes of sundry items:
Matches
Medicines
Batteries
Foil
Food Saver (seal a meal) and bags.
Lamp oil.
Wicks.
Spices.
In a duffle bag:
Sheets, down bedding, towels.
Boxed up the CD’s.
In a back pack:
Vital Documents, address book, phone books, bible, a few office supplies.
I then boxed up a few framed photos, my jewelry, and the toilet paper and sanitary products. Adidng the framed family photos from the walls and the photo albums. Grabbed a smalled box of cd's with my geneology research and the Frugal CD's.
We then moved as much as we could out of the trailer to the carport, covered it with tarps and followed the road back to the ferry point.
It took us four trips to cross the Klamath with all of the assembled items.
At the top of the long, long path up from the river Bubba was waiting with a mutual acquaintance of ours and for twenty dollars in junk silver he loaded up his pickup and drove us to the put in above Ishi Pishi Falls.
I stayed with our gear as Bubba and Ghost went up river with the first load. Bubba’s boat was big and we estimated that it would take two trips to ferry all the goods up river. Bubba helped Ghost load up the truck; Ghost drove it to our place, while Bubba came back for me. The only company I had was a mongrel dog that came sniffing and whining for food as I sat by the edge of the river. I was sure glad to see Bubba come down the river. We loaded the rest of our stuff in his boat, and then Bubba went up to the store to get Emma’s order. We set off, me riding point this time. At Emma’s we pulled in and she and her three kids were waiting for us at the river’s edge.
We handed her her box of provisions and mail. She handed us two cloth bags full of bread still warm from her oven. She was glad we thought of her mail. She said her man had not made it back from a dental appointment on the coast, but she was sure he would be home soon. We silently nodded our heads and asked her if she needed anything else. She asked us for the CB frequency we were using and if we had a spare rifle or shotgun she could buy. Her husband was die hard peace nick and never would have a weapon in his home. She on the other hand said she would be safer with something beside her rolling pin to defend herself. She said some unseemly men had walked down to her place the day before, and she hid her kids and herself in the trees outside of her home. The men took a look around and then left with out doing anything, but she’d be more comfortable with a rifle.
Bubba went to his boat and handed her a short barrel Mossburg shotgun and an ammo box of shells. Her eyes got real big and her kids stood there silently. Bubba put her through the basics and watched as she practiced dry firing it, putting in the shells, ejecting them, and then he proceeded to give her a quick how to hide and shoot lecture. He also instructed her on how to clean the weapon. She was very appreciative and said that she really did not expect her man to make it home. Bubba just silently nodded his head.
He reminded her that the load in the shotgun would make a big mess and big hole. And that she should shoot first and then ask questions. She assured us that she had made a concealed hiding spot away from her house and she had put the fear of God in her kids to be silent when she commanded it.
I asked her if there was anything else she needed. She said, “Prayers that her man Joel would make it home some how.”
With a solemn nod of her head, she gathered her children, waved good-bye and began her walk back up to her place.
Bubba and I made good time going back up river.
We transferred the rest of our stuff to the truck and Bubba went up river to deliver the mail to the Forest Service Station on Look Out.
We drove back home exhausted. We left everything in the truck for the night. We fed the animals, made canned soup for dinner and went to bed exhausted.
As I lay my head down, I silently prayed that life would get better. And that all of the families I knew would get reunited safely. As we went to sleep the rain stopped and the full moon shown in and blanketed us with its bright light.
The next day we woke to a knock on the door. It came hard and loud. Now until the last week we never locked our door. We heard the handle of the door being turned and a couple of loud grunts as someone tried to enter. Ghost was a heavy sleeper. I shook him awake and said, “Someone is trying to break in!” “Ah, s**t”, Ghost exclaimed.
We both rolled out of bed. Since I get cold at night I had on my un-romantic long johns and thermal shirt, but Ghost was bare butt naked. We both reached down at the same time for our shotguns and peered down over the railing to look at the sliding glass door. A man, unknown to us was standing there bleeding heavily from his face and left arm. He staggered backwards and collapsed on the deck.
I went down first, then Ghost while struggling to pull on a pair of sweat pants and his boots.
We cautiously made our way down the stairs.
The man lay on his back twitching.
We edged our way to the door and windows looking out to see if there were any other unexpected visitors. We saw none. I waited by the door as Ghost went out the back door and made a quick survey outside. He whistled and I opened the door and went out on to the deck.
The man was dressed in typical mountain garb. Logger jeans, flannel shirt, worn work boots, Carhart jacket, and he had a handgun strapped to his waist.
I went over to him and his eyes were rolled back up into his head.
I check for his pulse and in the cold air I could see a small vapor of exhalation.
His face had a nasty gash above the left eye. It was not spurting blood but was more like weeping a lot of it. It ran down the left side of his face to deck pooling up.
His left arm was another story. It was mangled. He was missing his thumb and forefinger. The bleeding was pretty much stopped by a make shift bandage fashioned from blaze orange cap and a bootlace tied around it. His jacket and shirt were torn up to mid elbow. The whole lower arm was a deep crusty brown color stained by his blood.
I yelled over to Ghost who was still covering me and scanning the surroundings to go get the battle med kit from the garden.
We had gotten a surplus Field Medical Kit pre Y2K when we lived up in Oregon. It was a huge clamshell box filled with medical gear we had no idea of how to use. We figured some day it would come in handy. I remember it had battle dressings, a stitching kit, and a packet called, “Sanitary Field” kit.
I left the man, went in and donned two pairs of rubber gloves, grabbed the throw rug in the kitchen, and went out to the guy. He still was totally out of it. I rolled him onto the rug, and then I went in the cabin and pulled out a new shower curtain from the linen closet. I spread it on the floor in front of the fire then I went out and dragged the guy into the cabin.
As I waited for Ghost, I quickly stoked the fire, put on a pot of water to boil on the propane stove, then went and dug out my basic medical kit and filled a basin with betadine and warm tap water.
The fella started groaning while I quickly scanned the bookshelf for The U.S. Armed Forces Survival Manuel. It had been ages since I had taken a first responder class. I knew that the scene was secure and safe, I knew the guy was breathing, I knew that shock was now his greatest enemy.
Acute blood loss and shock leads to death.
I began to pray out loud. “Father God, you know what I need to do. Lead me, guide me, Oh Father, and help me to do what is right. Amen.”
It seems hours since Ghost went to the garden for the medical kit.
I covered most of this stranger with a blanket. I ignored his head wound for the moment. I placed a pillow under his arm to elevate it above his heart. And then I took my EMT scissors and cut away his coat and shirt and thermal shirt. He lay dead silent, while his eyes began to come back down to where I could see their color and pupil.
As I began to work I talked to him. I said, “Hey guy, you are doing ok. You are safe. I am going to cut away your clothes to get a look at your wounds. Stay with me buddy. I know you are loved and wanted.”
The words flowed from my mouth as I added a pressure bandage to his hand. As I cut away the tatters of his jacket and coat I could see that the major bleeding had come from his hand. He had minor gashes on the lower arm. I cut away the rest of his jacket and shirt and saw a tell tell bruising of his chest. It was not quite a steering wheel imprint, but more of a round bruise. Then, duh, I noticed a white powder around the top of his coat. What ever happened, he must have had an air bag go off on his chest.
Then Ghost came running in. He quickly opened up the kit, took the book from me and turned to page 64.
He said, “Ok the dude is breathing. You raised his arm. **** I wish I had not put all that crap in front of the box, it took forever to dig it out! Ok, are you Ok, s**t he scared me. Ok. What do we do now? I can’t handle blood. You got your gloves on. Need a face shield?”
I said, “Ghost. Chill. Read to me.”
He did, “Ok, page 66, Cut away clothing to see if there is more than one wound.”
I said, “Done, superficial wounds. Biggest damage is to the left hand and some minor to above the hand. I left his cap on the hand for now.”
He said, “To not touch the wound, don’t clean it yet. I am going to hand you the battle dressing. Cover the soaked cap in the dressings and tape it up. It does not seem to be bleeding now. The guy is fighting shock. Good you already elevated it. Did you check to see if the arm was broken?”
“Yes, it does not appear to be.” I replied as I applied the dressing. I don’t think we need to tourniquet it. Hold his arm up for me while I check his head wounds.”
Ghost did so, and then I cut away his bangs, which were stuck to the semi congealing blood. His gash was deeper than I first thought. I could see a bit of white skull when I gently pulled the wound apart. I used a cloth dipped in the betadine solution to start rinsing the wound. After I cleaned up the mess I realized that I could probably apply some bandage strips to pull the wound together. I did not have the confidence to pull out the suturing kit quite yet. After I cleaned up his facial wound. I gently palpated the rest of his head. He had no abnormal swelling or other evidence of a closed fracture.
I sat back on my heels and thought, man I would make a lousy EMT. I am doing almost everything bass ackwards. I cut the rest of his clothes off to make a more thorough check of his body. As I cut off the clothes Ghost would replace the blanket on him.
Note to Readers due to the length of the chapter I will have to break it here and add another ThreadThe one and only master of all things electrical.
The squirrel that would always rant and rave about the poor job public schools provide.
The guy who would boldly challenges me in flaming post after flaming post.
The man who was a diligent prayer warrior in the Chapel.
What a trip.
I put all his things back into his wallet, after I jotted down his “new” contact information.
I took a three by five card and wrote what interventions I had done up to that point. I added his next of kin contact, his insurance information, blood type etc.
Then I went and made us some soup, stoked the fire, washed up, got dressed, and he snored away.
Four hours later I heard the distinctive sound of the chopper coming in.
After it landed Ghost and Bubba pulled up. The copter doors opened and I realized it was not just the medics coming out, but Bubba’s lady as well. I started crying as I saw them embrace and walk away.
I led the medics to the cabin, told them what I had done, they quickly assessed him and started an IV. They asked if I had the missing digits. I said no, the patient said the trenching auger had chewed them up. I handed them the three by five card. They said good job. We are taking him to Redding. Please call his wife. With that they quickly loaded him into the copter. One of the medics came back out and asked us.
“He wants to know the name of your friend in the house.”
“What friend?” Ghost asked.
“The patient says your red headed beautiful friend with the awesome voice and rose petal fragrance.”
I replied, “Tell him it was his guardian angel. There is no one here but Ghost and I. Tell him I will call Jennie and will be praying for him.”
The medic had a wise kind look and he gave us a thumbs up and he re-boarded the copter.
They took off and Ghost and I made our way up to the cabin where we found Bubba and his dear wife holding onto one another.
As we neared they both said in unison. “Coffee?”
The rest of his body had no visible wounds or bone deformities. When I touched his feet he jerked his legs up.
Ghost commented, “Did you check out his tattoo?”
I noticed it. It was a squirrel holding an automatic rifle.
“Ghost said, “Maybe his one of your Frugal Buddies?”
As I sat next to this unnamed man, Ghost brought in an army cot, set it up. He put a Thinsulite pad on it, and then pulled out another shower curtain from the linen closet, he laid that down, and then layered a flannel sheet, Chux, another sheet and a Chux. (Chux are bed pads for infirm adults) on it, then another sheet. He put a sheet on the ground next to our patient. Then we rolled him onto it. Then using the sheet we picked him up and put him on the cot. I covered him up and used some bathrobe ties to tie him to the cot to keep him from rolling off he were to awake. It had been over fourteen years since we lost our son. Ghost remembered the drill on setting up a clean bed and transporting a body. What a trip.
Ghost continued reading from the manual. He said, “This book does not have in it what we need. Where is you old EMT Book? I gently reminded him that he had sold it at our yard sale. He gave me a sour look and then said, “Ok. Where are your survival books?” I directed him to a box of books I had stashed in my closet. He brought them down from the loft and said, “Ok. You told me so.” He began scanning the book Where There Are No Doctors. “Well, we should watch him and maybe turn him so that if he vomits he won’t choke on it. And after a while check to see if we want to deal with the hand.” I untied the guy, we gently turned him on his right side and put a pillow in front of him to keep his left hand elevated.
By then the water was at a rolling boil. Ghost took part of the water and poured it into a smaller pan and added almonds, cinnamon, a sliced up apple, and oats. He poured the rest into a wash pan for me to use. I gently began to wash away the blood that had soaked the man’s arm and torso. As I washed him he began to moan a bit. By the time I got to his hand he had awakened.
He looked at me with steady eyes and said, “Are you Sis?”
I was startled. The only folks who called me Sis were my real blood brothers and buddies on the Frugal Site.
I shook my head yes.
He said, “Dang girl, you are hard to find! I am from Happy Camp. I moved up from Smell Ay (LA) a month ago. I always thought you lived in Hoopa.”
I continued to slowly remove some of the bandaging from his wrist.
He said, “I was working on the retrofit of the Forest Service Fire Tower up on Look Out Mountain. After the snow started melting and the quakes happened I thought I should head down the mountain to town to check on my family. I am an electrician by trade and a welder by hobby.”
I continued to cut away the bandages, getting closer to the hand. He winced and blew out a strong breath.
“I was using a trenching tool and caught my hand in it. I saw my thumb and finger get chewed off. I put my hat on my hand and got in my rig. I tried to drive myself down the road for help. All the electrical in the fire tower were down. I could not think straight. I kept thinking of Jenny and my two boys. I remembered to hold my hand out of the window and up high. But it is hard to steer and shift one handed. I recognized his mid-west accent.
(He may have moved up from LA, but he was a Wisconsinsonian/cheese head by birth. I just love that accent.)
He continued to ramble, “I turned the wrong way down the forest service road. I ended up coming down your long a** road. I figured someone had to be home because of the tire marks in the road. As I drove down the road I started recognizing it. It is just like the way you describe it on the Frugal site. Even though I came in the back way, once you are on it, you know it is your place. I saw the sign “Eyesee Two Creeks, All Unwelcome Never Leave” sign. About a half mile up I ended up taking out a madrone tree by crashing into it.” e
As he was talking Ghost started trying to raise Bubba on the CB.
By this point I had cut away most of the blood soaked cap. I left the stubs of the thumb and fingers covered. I gently cleaned around them and said, “Ok, what we have here is a major trauma to your hand. You have lost some digits. I want to re-bandage them and get you medi-vacked to Yreka for some real doctoring. I am not skilled at suturing your head; you need x-rays to see if you have bone fractures in your hand. The major bleeding is controlled but you can go into shock. Can you hang in her for Jennie and the boys for a bit while we get a copter in for you?”
The man looked up and said, “Yeah Sis. Who is that other gal over there?” as he looked over my shoulder towards the ceiling of the cabin. Ghost and I looked at each other and then up to the ceiling.
I said, “Come on brother, you need to rest a bit. I want to make you my famous garlic, onion, chicken soup. You need some fluids. Are you nauseous?”
“No, your friend sure has a beautiful voice.” He replied. He closed his eyes and soon a gentle snoring came from his exhausted body.
Ghost said, “I can’t raise Bubba, I will drive up and arrange transport. We can have the copter land in the middle field. We can bundle him up in the sheets and blanket. Find his wallet and bag up a set of clothes for him so he has something to wear when he gets out of the hospital.
As the still unnamed stranger rested I dug through his jeans and found his wallet, a really cool knife, his comb, a can of chew, and a clean bandanna. Amazing, the guy sees his thumb and fingers chewed off and he puts his cap on it. All the while he had this nice clean bandanna he could of used.
Being the noisy woman that I am I opened up his long haul trucker style of wallet.
In it I found a mini address book, his electricians union membership card, his NRA card, 16 Red Cross class cards, his Social Security Card, an uncashed pay check, the business card of the head forester in Happy Camp, his medical insurance cards, his Mercy Air emergency helicopter transport card, and finally his drivers license.
What a shock! This fella was none other than …….
The Burly Man.
Recent transplant from Glendale California.
The Flying Patriot Squirrel who designed alternative energy systems for fall out shelters.
Siskiyou Islands Part 1, Chapter 7
Siskiyou Islands Chapter 7
The bedroom is filled with the sound of rain still falling heavily outside. It is bizarre to see rain after so many months snow. The once white mountainside is now bare of snow and there are hundreds of many streams coursing down the steep slopes above the cabin.
We get up and Ghost starts to make the coffee and his famous oatmeal. I stoke the fire and bring in more wood. We go about our morning routine not talking. Just being together is good enough. After I feed the cats we sit down and with pencil and paper list out our priorities for the next few days.
1. Check the conditions on our forest service road and at the same time stop in to check on the neighbors.
2. If they are not home, then feed their dogs and horses and leave a note.
3. Bring the chainsaw and fuel to clear the road. We decided to open it up because our closest neighbor has arthritis in his knees and hips and he will not be able to walk up the steep road we live off of.
4. Drive to the Forest Service Wildland Fire Station and check in with Mike the winter caretaker.
5. Check the river level. With all the rain we were expecting flooding of more of the highway and we wanted to make sure a family we knew was safe and out of harms way.
6. Double-check our caches on the road out.
Seemed like a lot to do in the dreary rain. We both noticed immediately that the air temperature had also increased and it was actually balmy. A bad sign with so much snow pack in the upper elevations. We switched out of our snow boots to rubber boots, loaded our gear in the truck, packed a lunch and dinner, got the rifle and bear spray and headed up the road.
The way out way of our place is very steep and rough and after a bit of time we got to the inner gate. As usual we locked it and made our way the last two miles to the outer gate. This was the gate we shared with the forest service. We locked it and made our way down the mountain toward our nearest neighbor.
As we pulled in we saw smoke in the chimney and the dogs came barking to the truck. Ghost tooted his horn and the front door opened and Bubba came out.
He is long time resident of these beautiful mountains. He spends his summers running a river rafting business on the Klamath, Salmon, Smith and Rogue rivers. Winter and spring he is a river drift boat guide for anglers.
His lady is a consultant with the county office of education guiding families in home schooling their children. She is responsible for many adults conquering illiteracy and gaining their high school diploma or equivalency certificate.
Bubba and she also have a very reliable radiophone.
“Well I see you made it home Sis,” he says in his usually gruff tone of voice. At 5 foot 6’ and a solid muscled body his voice and stature makes him a formidable rafter and guide. His salt and pepper hair and bushy beard and deeply lined eyes show the years he has spent on the river.
“Marta (his lady) is stuck up in Yreka. The radiophone system has been taken over by FEMA and I can only make personal calls out between 4 am and 5 am. Finally got a hold of her today at our daughter’s place. Seems that Yreka is still impacted from the flooding from Iron Gate dam going down. There are also a couple of bridges down near there. The FEMA refugee camp at the Fairgrounds is full up with Interstate 5 travelers and big rigs. The Ashland Summit is closed due to a massive rockslide. The California Highway Patrol Check Point has been re-opened and is manned by National Guardsmen. The dams at Whiskeytown and Shasta have not yet burst. The authorities were releasing a huge flow out of both dams and minor flooding was occurring along the Sacramento River.”
We decide to split up the list of neighbors to check on. Bubba will go to the folks who live on the upper fork of the road and we will cover the lower two neighbors places. We decided to meet at the downed trees to work together with Bubba to clear them out of the way.
Ghost and I get back in our truck and head to the first neighbor below Bubbas place. It belongs to middle-aged couple that also has lived on this mountain for over 24 years. He was a forest service employee who commuted to work near Susanville east of Interstate 5. He had worked in our local forest service district but got a transfer when the local office reduced its staffing. His wife was a home craftswoman who had developed a profitable business using her treadle sewing machine to make custom apparel. She had a circuit of craft shows and fairs she displayed her wares at. Her at home business allowed her to raise her children, garden and fish, and hike a lot in the Marble Mountain Wilderness, which abuts their property. With the use of sa satilite internet hook up she had been building up her mail/net order business and had reduced her craft fair circuit substantially in the last year.
Now that the snow was almost totally gone we were able to drive within a hundred yards of their house. Due to the snow they had had to shuttle their gear back and forth from the road to their place using cross-country skis and using packs. They had been a part of an original collective which bought the old homestead and over the years some of the partners had sold out and new folks joined. In all told there were 67 acres with five families living on them. Most of the kids were grown and had moved to the coast or the big city only to move back to the area after a while. All of the children valued their homeland and found ways to make a living and start their own families.
Drake and Mandy’s house had no fire going. We were greeted by the small pack of dogs jumping up on us. As we made our way to the front door we saw that wood was neatly stacked on the porch and the house appeared to be stable. Ghost went and checked on the propane tank and the powerhouse. All was in order. I peeked in the windows and saw that Mandy had been in the middle of a big project. Stacks of cut fabric pieces were neatly arranged in rows on her long oak table. I wrote her a note on her pad of paper hanging from a piece of twine by her doorknocker. While I wrote the note Ghost fed the dogs and checked on chickens and rabbits. He fed and watered all of them. I told Mandy the time and date we were there, that the animals were taken care of. We hiked out to the truck and head on down the road to the next neighbors place,
They were a small family with one boy a sophomore in high school. The mom was my coworker at Orleans and her husband was a mule packer for the forest service in the summers and a bus driver in the school year. All three of them had not made it home. I silently prayed for them as we fed their dogs and cats and horses and mules. We checked the house and it seemed to be ok. Checked the propane tank. We left a note for them and then on the way out of their drive we locked their gate. We knew where they kept their spare keyand we figured it would be long while before their elder child, a daughter would make it back home from college in Chico. She’d want to know that the place had been made a bit more secure. Who knows if the rest of her family made it through the tragedy of the last few days? Chico was a good 6 hour drive away on a good day, it could be weeks before she hike home.
Throughout the morning we had been feeling small after shocks but nothing like the day before. As we made our way down the road to the highway we tried to get in a station on the radio. We live in a black hole for cell phones and radio stations. Even the new satellite radio services are unreliable in our region. Finally picked up a station out of Ashland called Jefferson State Radio. We stopped the truck in order to not lose the signal by driving out of range. Jefferson State Radio is a National Public Radio Station provider and tended to play a lot of classical music. What we heard on the broadcast made our blood curl.
Seems that the rest of the nation had begun having quakes as well. All along the Mississippi corridor small to moderate quakes up to 5.5 had happened in the last 12 hours. The New Madrid fault had gone off with an amazing 7.3 quake. Massive relief efforts were beginning to respond to that disaster. Mount Lassen was also spitting out more and more steam and ash. And quake activity in Yellowstone was also increasing and Old Faithful suddenly stopped its regular eruption schedule. Martial law had been declared in most regions of the United States. As the station started to recap and dissect the meaning of the news we turned off the radio and continued on our way.
When we got to the trees across the road we proceeded to buck them up and pull the slash away. We bucked the wood into stove lengths and stacked them on the high side of the road. When we were almost through Bubba pulled up and said he was late because he had to deal with a propane leak at the neighbors. He also stopped to fix a couple of water bars on the road. He asked to go along with us to the Forest Service Wildland Fire Station conserve fuel.
As we drove up river on the highway we looked down towards the river and Bubba said, “Holy smoke, I have never, ever seen the river so high.”
Water was rushing down the edges of the highway and couple of times Ghost hydroplaned the truck. As we neared Look Out Road we saw the highway swallowed up by the river, which had over flowed its banks. Ghost backed up a quarter mile to get the truck a lot higher and we all got out and bushwhacked above the river to get to Look Out Road. Below us the highway was under at least four feet of water and the mailboxes were quickly becoming submerged. We walked up Look Out and got to the station about 20 minutes later. We see that Mike’s rig is in the yard. The rain starts to fall even heavier and we are glad to make it to the porch.
We knock on the door and Jim ,Mike’s son answered the door. With a timid smile he invites us in. Mike comes out of the kitchen carrying his baby daughter Patsy and tells us to take off our rain gear and boots. Jim helps us hang them up and then he goes back to the puzzle he is working on at the coffee table.
Mike begins to fill us in on the latest he knows about the situation both up and down river. His communication set up is excellent. He is a Ham operator, CB enthusiast, light plane pilot, EMT, fire fighter and all round welder and mechanic. He is also Ghost’s black powder shooting partner. As a young man in his early thirties he had done his time in the service were he met his wife Big Sue.
Big Sue was a local born and raised Karuk full blood Indian woman. She stood a regal 5 foot 11” and after having two children in a short time she had packed on a bit of weight. It was just enough weight to make her a bit scary if you got her riled up.
It is mystery to those who don’t tknow he couple very well as to how a fair skinned and blond haired New Yorker like Mike could win Sue’s heart. While in the Coast Guard in South Carolina they met, courted and wed. They actually did not meet at the base. They met fishing in the Outer Banks. When Sue told Mike about her land allotment waiting for her, her basket weaving, her family and people he fell in love. As the children came they grew even more dedicated to one another and they also figured out how to escape the east coast and move back to the Siskiyous.
With savings and an old Rambler they drove cross-country with baby Jim. Mike won a seasonal Forest Service wild land fire-fighting job, which then lead to the winter care taking position, which included housing for his family.
The station was well set up and secure. It was two miles up Look Out Road. Well above the rising river. Look Out continued up the mountains and joined into numerous unpaved forest service and a few private roads leading up into the Marble Mountain wilderness. With snow melting it meant that these roads would end up being our primary transportation routes due to washed out bridges and highway sections. You could use them to get to Happy Camp to the north, Forks of Salmon to the east, and after we dealt with the locked Forest Service gate near Hay Press Meadow we could get to Somes Bar by vehicles.
We spent the rest of the afternoon eating our sack lunch, soaking up the heat of the wood stove, and listening in to the short wave radio. After much discussion we decided to continue our patrolling of the neighborhood and to go to Bubba’s to try and call relatives the next morning. Mike had already checked in with those folks who lived above him higher up Look Out. We learned that all was well with the 12 homesteads above Mike’s. All the families were home and intact. They had a patrol schedule set up. Mike was working on getting permission to get the locked Forest Service gates opened. So far FEMA wanted limited access and in and out of our area.
The Look Out folks decided to have the key copied at the maintenance shop at the station and that if the O.K. did not happen then we would be able to still have access and and we could lock the gates up behind us. It is a running joke about the single key used nationwide for forest service roads. Mike said that he a lot of other locals agreed with FEMA that it would be wise to limit access to our area from the "general" public. The consensus was to keep the roads accessible for locals and lock out undesirables.
As the rain let up we left Mike’s home and hiked back to the truck. In the twilight we could see that the river had risen considerably higher. After driving back up to Bubba’s and returning home we stoked the fire and ate our sack dinner. Ghost brought out a pint of home brew and poured himself a glass. I rested on the couch thinking of all the things I wanted to get from the trailer. We had asked Bubba if he’d let us hire him to get our gear. He said he would trade a weeks labor for three round trips with his boat.
As the night grew darker the rain began to fall even heavier than earlier in the day. We went to bed and slept soundly again.
Siskiyou Islands Chapter 8
After a restful night of sleep Ghost and I got up, he fixed breakfast, I stoked the fire, and we fed the animals and made of list of items to get from the trailer. We drove to Bubba’s and arranged for him to follow us to the river put in. We donned our life vests and Bubba went over his rules for safety in his guide boat. Ghost road point. He watched for hazards in the water and kept his rifle at the ready. I scanned the shore and roadway above us for any movement. There was none. We quickly maneuvered around the debris of the downed bridge. The going was quick to the second downed bridge. As we came around the bend after the bridge, Emma a good friend of ours who lived just above the new high mark of the river flagged us down.
Emma relayed to us that her family was doing fine and would we pick up a few supplies for her at the Somes Bar store. She handed over her list and asked us to charge it to her account at the store. She offered us coffee or tea, we passed on her kind offer. She promised us loaves of fresh baked French bread and rolls on our return trip.
It is amazing how fast the journey back down river went in the boat versus walking the distance! After we arrived at the put out point above Ishi Pishi Falls we realized we had to figure out who could get our stuff from this side of the river to Bubba’s boat. Bubba said he’d work on that while we went to the trailer.
The water was high, but not high enough for Bubba to risk his boat to the falls. We agreed to meet back at the Store in six hours. We still had to arrange transport up to our old trailer on Thunder Mountain at the store and back again.
We hiked up to the store and the owner greeted us with a warm, “Nice to see you walking and talking.” His grin and handshake were strong. The National Guard had delivered the mail the day before and we got ours, Emma’s and all the mail for the folks on our road. The storeowner gave us the official ok to make the federal mail deliveries. We left Emma’s list and asked the owner if his CB was operational. He said yes and we called up Roger. Roger agreed to come down and pick us up at the ferry point and would help us load and transport our gear. He asked if Ghost could come by in a month or so to help him repair the quake damage to his barn and house.
We met Roger at the ferry crossing. The ferry man agreed to wait on payment and asked if we’d front him a six pack of brew till we were able to pay him in full. After the quick ride up to the trailer we pulled out our list and quickly assembled all the weapons, ammo, and foodstuff Thomas and I had already moved out of the trailer. We loaded up Rogers truck and then went into the now dangerously leaning trailer and continued to add to our pile of gear the rest of the items on our list.
The List:
Pressure canner.
Canning jars and lids.
Cooking Pots and Pans.
Dishes and Sliver wear.
Wood Drying Rack.
Three boxes of sundry items:
Matches
Medicines
Batteries
Foil
Food Saver (seal a meal) and bags.
Lamp oil.
Wicks.
Spices.
In a duffle bag:
Sheets, down bedding, towels.
Boxed up the CD’s.
In a back pack:
Vital Documents, address book, phone books, bible, a few office supplies.
I then boxed up a few framed photos, my jewelry, and the toilet paper and sanitary products. Adidng the framed family photos from the walls and the photo albums. Grabbed a smalled box of cd's with my geneology research and the Frugal CD's.
We then moved as much as we could out of the trailer to the carport, covered it with tarps and followed the road back to the ferry point.
It took us four trips to cross the Klamath with all of the assembled items.
At the top of the long, long path up from the river Bubba was waiting with a mutual acquaintance of ours and for twenty dollars in junk silver he loaded up his pickup and drove us to the put in above Ishi Pishi Falls.
I stayed with our gear as Bubba and Ghost went up river with the first load. Bubba’s boat was big and we estimated that it would take two trips to ferry all the goods up river. Bubba helped Ghost load up the truck; Ghost drove it to our place, while Bubba came back for me. The only company I had was a mongrel dog that came sniffing and whining for food as I sat by the edge of the river. I was sure glad to see Bubba come down the river. We loaded the rest of our stuff in his boat, and then Bubba went up to the store to get Emma’s order. We set off, me riding point this time. At Emma’s we pulled in and she and her three kids were waiting for us at the river’s edge.
We handed her her box of provisions and mail. She handed us two cloth bags full of bread still warm from her oven. She was glad we thought of her mail. She said her man had not made it back from a dental appointment on the coast, but she was sure he would be home soon. We silently nodded our heads and asked her if she needed anything else. She asked us for the CB frequency we were using and if we had a spare rifle or shotgun she could buy. Her husband was die hard peace nick and never would have a weapon in his home. She on the other hand said she would be safer with something beside her rolling pin to defend herself. She said some unseemly men had walked down to her place the day before, and she hid her kids and herself in the trees outside of her home. The men took a look around and then left with out doing anything, but she’d be more comfortable with a rifle.
Bubba went to his boat and handed her a short barrel Mossburg shotgun and an ammo box of shells. Her eyes got real big and her kids stood there silently. Bubba put her through the basics and watched as she practiced dry firing it, putting in the shells, ejecting them, and then he proceeded to give her a quick how to hide and shoot lecture. He also instructed her on how to clean the weapon. She was very appreciative and said that she really did not expect her man to make it home. Bubba just silently nodded his head.
He reminded her that the load in the shotgun would make a big mess and big hole. And that she should shoot first and then ask questions. She assured us that she had made a concealed hiding spot away from her house and she had put the fear of God in her kids to be silent when she commanded it.
I asked her if there was anything else she needed. She said, “Prayers that her man Joel would make it home some how.”
With a solemn nod of her head, she gathered her children, waved good-bye and began her walk back up to her place.
Bubba and I made good time going back up river.
We transferred the rest of our stuff to the truck and Bubba went up river to deliver the mail to the Forest Service Station on Look Out.
We drove back home exhausted. We left everything in the truck for the night. We fed the animals, made canned soup for dinner and went to bed exhausted.
As I lay my head down, I silently prayed that life would get better. And that all of the families I knew would get reunited safely. As we went to sleep the rain stopped and the full moon shown in and blanketed us with its bright light.
The next day we woke to a knock on the door. It came hard and loud. Now until the last week we never locked our door. We heard the handle of the door being turned and a couple of loud grunts as someone tried to enter. Ghost was a heavy sleeper. I shook him awake and said, “Someone is trying to break in!” “Ah, s**t”, Ghost exclaimed.
We both rolled out of bed. Since I get cold at night I had on my un-romantic long johns and thermal shirt, but Ghost was bare butt naked. We both reached down at the same time for our shotguns and peered down over the railing to look at the sliding glass door. A man, unknown to us was standing there bleeding heavily from his face and left arm. He staggered backwards and collapsed on the deck.
I went down first, then Ghost while struggling to pull on a pair of sweat pants and his boots.
We cautiously made our way down the stairs.
The man lay on his back twitching.
We edged our way to the door and windows looking out to see if there were any other unexpected visitors. We saw none. I waited by the door as Ghost went out the back door and made a quick survey outside. He whistled and I opened the door and went out on to the deck.
The man was dressed in typical mountain garb. Logger jeans, flannel shirt, worn work boots, Carhart jacket, and he had a handgun strapped to his waist.
I went over to him and his eyes were rolled back up into his head.
I check for his pulse and in the cold air I could see a small vapor of exhalation.
His face had a nasty gash above the left eye. It was not spurting blood but was more like weeping a lot of it. It ran down the left side of his face to deck pooling up.
His left arm was another story. It was mangled. He was missing his thumb and forefinger. The bleeding was pretty much stopped by a make shift bandage fashioned from blaze orange cap and a bootlace tied around it. His jacket and shirt were torn up to mid elbow. The whole lower arm was a deep crusty brown color stained by his blood.
I yelled over to Ghost who was still covering me and scanning the surroundings to go get the battle med kit from the garden.
We had gotten a surplus Field Medical Kit pre Y2K when we lived up in Oregon. It was a huge clamshell box filled with medical gear we had no idea of how to use. We figured some day it would come in handy. I remember it had battle dressings, a stitching kit, and a packet called, “Sanitary Field” kit.
I left the man, went in and donned two pairs of rubber gloves, grabbed the throw rug in the kitchen, and went out to the guy. He still was totally out of it. I rolled him onto the rug, and then I went in the cabin and pulled out a new shower curtain from the linen closet. I spread it on the floor in front of the fire then I went out and dragged the guy into the cabin.
As I waited for Ghost, I quickly stoked the fire, put on a pot of water to boil on the propane stove, then went and dug out my basic medical kit and filled a basin with betadine and warm tap water.
The fella started groaning while I quickly scanned the bookshelf for The U.S. Armed Forces Survival Manuel. It had been ages since I had taken a first responder class. I knew that the scene was secure and safe, I knew the guy was breathing, I knew that shock was now his greatest enemy.
Acute blood loss and shock leads to death.
I began to pray out loud. “Father God, you know what I need to do. Lead me, guide me, Oh Father, and help me to do what is right. Amen.”
It seems hours since Ghost went to the garden for the medical kit.
I covered most of this stranger with a blanket. I ignored his head wound for the moment. I placed a pillow under his arm to elevate it above his heart. And then I took my EMT scissors and cut away his coat and shirt and thermal shirt. He lay dead silent, while his eyes began to come back down to where I could see their color and pupil.
As I began to work I talked to him. I said, “Hey guy, you are doing ok. You are safe. I am going to cut away your clothes to get a look at your wounds. Stay with me buddy. I know you are loved and wanted.”
The words flowed from my mouth as I added a pressure bandage to his hand. As I cut away the tatters of his jacket and coat I could see that the major bleeding had come from his hand. He had minor gashes on the lower arm. I cut away the rest of his jacket and shirt and saw a tell tell bruising of his chest. It was not quite a steering wheel imprint, but more of a round bruise. Then, duh, I noticed a white powder around the top of his coat. What ever happened, he must have had an air bag go off on his chest.
Then Ghost came running in. He quickly opened up the kit, took the book from me and turned to page 64.
He said, “Ok the dude is breathing. You raised his arm. **** I wish I had not put all that crap in front of the box, it took forever to dig it out! Ok, are you Ok, s**t he scared me. Ok. What do we do now? I can’t handle blood. You got your gloves on. Need a face shield?”
I said, “Ghost. Chill. Read to me.”
He did, “Ok, page 66, Cut away clothing to see if there is more than one wound.”
I said, “Done, superficial wounds. Biggest damage is to the left hand and some minor to above the hand. I left his cap on the hand for now.”
He said, “To not touch the wound, don’t clean it yet. I am going to hand you the battle dressing. Cover the soaked cap in the dressings and tape it up. It does not seem to be bleeding now. The guy is fighting shock. Good you already elevated it. Did you check to see if the arm was broken?”
“Yes, it does not appear to be.” I replied as I applied the dressing. I don’t think we need to tourniquet it. Hold his arm up for me while I check his head wounds.”
Ghost did so, and then I cut away his bangs, which were stuck to the semi congealing blood. His gash was deeper than I first thought. I could see a bit of white skull when I gently pulled the wound apart. I used a cloth dipped in the betadine solution to start rinsing the wound. After I cleaned up the mess I realized that I could probably apply some bandage strips to pull the wound together. I did not have the confidence to pull out the suturing kit quite yet. After I cleaned up his facial wound. I gently palpated the rest of his head. He had no abnormal swelling or other evidence of a closed fracture.
I sat back on my heels and thought, man I would make a lousy EMT. I am doing almost everything bass ackwards. I cut the rest of his clothes off to make a more thorough check of his body. As I cut off the clothes Ghost would replace the blanket on him.
Note to Readers due to the length of the chapter I will have to break it here and add another ThreadThe one and only master of all things electrical.
The squirrel that would always rant and rave about the poor job public schools provide.
The guy who would boldly challenges me in flaming post after flaming post.
The man who was a diligent prayer warrior in the Chapel.
What a trip.
I put all his things back into his wallet, after I jotted down his “new” contact information.
I took a three by five card and wrote what interventions I had done up to that point. I added his next of kin contact, his insurance information, blood type etc.
Then I went and made us some soup, stoked the fire, washed up, got dressed, and he snored away.
Four hours later I heard the distinctive sound of the chopper coming in.
After it landed Ghost and Bubba pulled up. The copter doors opened and I realized it was not just the medics coming out, but Bubba’s lady as well. I started crying as I saw them embrace and walk away.
I led the medics to the cabin, told them what I had done, they quickly assessed him and started an IV. They asked if I had the missing digits. I said no, the patient said the trenching auger had chewed them up. I handed them the three by five card. They said good job. We are taking him to Redding. Please call his wife. With that they quickly loaded him into the copter. One of the medics came back out and asked us.
“He wants to know the name of your friend in the house.”
“What friend?” Ghost asked.
“The patient says your red headed beautiful friend with the awesome voice and rose petal fragrance.”
I replied, “Tell him it was his guardian angel. There is no one here but Ghost and I. Tell him I will call Jennie and will be praying for him.”
The medic had a wise kind look and he gave us a thumbs up and he re-boarded the copter.
They took off and Ghost and I made our way up to the cabin where we found Bubba and his dear wife holding onto one another.
As we neared they both said in unison. “Coffee?”
