The lovely Alissa Ward agreed to share her hiking self-rescue story for this series of rescue stories. In 2020, she was living her best life in Tasmania, deep in Australia.. But things changed on what was supposed to be an easy hike with a friend.
Thank you so much for agreeing to write your self-rescue story for me, Alissa. I still admire the grace and resilience with which you have navigated your recovery and appreciate all the free education you share. (If you’re not already, go follow Alissa on Instagram – she’s an incredible human).
Warning: this article is definitely not intended for delicate people.
Self-rescue with one eye
In October 2020, a friend, Caity, and I set out on what was supposed to be a quick night in the heart of South West Tassie National Park. It quickly turned into a story that I will have with me forever.
The hike was only about 7km round trip, but with about 750m of elevation gain, it’s safe to say it’s steep! We climbed up to some nice views but, despite the clear forecast, clouds started to roll in. It started to rain and the trail became quite slippery.
The slip
At one point I was climbing a muddy section supported by wooden beams. I suddenly lost my footing. With the weight of my overnight bag on my back, I began to fall to the side of the trail. Face first.
Unfortunately, I didn’t land on my hands, but on my right eyelid. Directly on a small stick which pierced the skin of my eyelid. And that’s when everything went black.
I yelled to Caity (who was about 50m behind me) that I thought something was wrong. (Something was actually seriously wrong).
As she hurried back up the trail, I felt around my eyelid. The stick was out when I got up, but my eyelid was closed and wouldn’t open…and my eyeball felt like it was in a different place than my other (intact) eye. To clarify; the stick never lodged in my eyeball. It crossed my eyelid and above my eyeball. But it moved to where my eyeball was in its socket.
Now, if anyone has friends in the medical field, you know they’re pretty quick to get involved, even when they’re off duty. This is exactly what happened here. Caity was a paramedic and she quickly assessed my situation. I had little pain (thanks to the adrenaline), but there was quite a lot of pressure in my head. I thought we had two options:
a) Set up camp and try to sleep
b) Go back down the mountain
I opted to set up camp and try to sleep.
Dear readers, if you pierce your eyelid (or anything really) and decide to “sleep,” your hiking buddy should step in to override your adrenaline-induced decision-making abilities. Luckily, that’s what Caity did.
Self-rescue
Caity quickly realized that she would not be able to properly assess my injury on the mountain. I was young (23 at the time) and the eyes are a vital organ, so we had to bend down and seek proper care.
To treat my eyelid, Caity grabbed my first aid kit, placed gauze over my eye and then wrapped it over my head. I could go down the mountain hands free and the bandage reduced bleeding from the puncture. Unfortunately there was no phone reception. We did not bring a Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) of any kind…which was a big lesson learned for me.
In classic Tasmanian fashion the weather changed as we were about to descend. We put on our rain gear and started sliding and sliding down the mountain. Caity would later tell me that she had no idea how I managed to get down the mountain in those conditions, with incredibly impaired depth perception all the way down a very root-filled trail. In all honesty, I don’t know how I did it either. I continued following his footsteps until we were back at my car. It was raining quite heavily in some places and it even decided to snow. This just goes to show that a mountain doesn’t owe you anything, so it’s best to be prepared for any situation.
Head to the hospital
Next lesson: If you drive manually, make sure at least one other person in your group can also drive manually. You know this, in case you impale yourself and aren’t able to get back. Luckily, Caity could drive a manual.
Once I got to the car, I changed into dry clothes and lay down in the passenger seat, persistent pain and nausea set in. I couldn’t look at the road with one eye or I would get motion sickness, so I had to lie down. on the ground, both eyes closed, during the three-hour drive to the emergency room in Hobart… on a Saturday evening.
Being in the ER is a bit of a blur. I remember the ophthalmologist on call took me to another room and removed pieces of bark from my eye. There is still one piece left to this day for all the curious. This process took about four hours of testing, then waiting. Test again, check the pressure, then wait again.
I was lucky to have incredible hospital staff. Once they realized I wouldn’t be able to see much, they made sure to tell me about everything they were doing to help calm my nerves.
Long recovery
I couldn’t open my eyes for about 4.5 weeks. At first, doctors weren’t sure if it was due to the blunt trauma or if I had damaged the muscles that opened my eyelid. They thought I might have to wait six months to find out.
I still continued to do the Overland Track while my eyelid was closed 3.5 weeks after the injury (I already had time off and paid for it, so I managed to get the green light from my doctor to do it).
My vision was not affected in the long term. It was when the third doctor I saw told me that I had almost gone blind in one eye, I realized how serious it could have been. If the stick had only been 3mm sideways, I would have completely lost my sight.
At this point, I had never broken a single bone, so the impact of something like that just wasn’t really on my radar. Once my eyelid started opening, my eyes were moving at different speeds, so I had no depth perception and struggled for a while.
After three months, I could drive again because I only had double vision in a very dark place (it’s still there, but doesn’t affect me on a daily basis). Eight months later I had a procedure that opened my right eyelid more, so now it doesn’t say as much, but still isn’t symmetrical with my left.
^ The photo on the right was taken a few weeks after the injury on the Overland Track.
Lessons learned
This is an incredibly abbreviated version of the ups and downs associated with my injury, but almost four years later, a lot has eased. It could have gone very, very differently and I’m happy to say it didn’t. However, if we had had a PLB with us that day, we would have used it 100% on the mountain.
Accidents due to chance are just that. Try not to let them stop you from doing the things you love. Be aware of the risks, but don’t be risk averse, so that’s the mindset I’ve always taken during my recovery.
I hope this gives you some insight into a very tricky situation and how we manage to get through it. When we finally climbed the mountain together a few years later, Caity and I made sure we had a PLB with us. It was an incredible trip with wonderful weather and views.
I now wear my InReach on every hike I do and tell people where it is in case they need to use it.
My main takeaways:
- Always have some sort of PLB
- Leave a travel plan with a trusted friend/family member (as soon as we contacted mine, 24 hours earlier, she knew something was wrong and was able to meet us at the hospital)
- You never know when a well-stocked first aid kit will come in handy
Thanks again Alissa for sharing your incredible self-rescue story! I am so happy that you have had such a wonderful recovery and have been able to return to all your outdoor activities with minimal deficits (as shown in the photos below!). If you’d like to know more about the recovery process, Alissa has recorded many stories of her highlights on Instagram (and while you’re at it, click Follow – she’s a truly lovely person).
