How not get to know your neighbors

Vacation was restful and fun. Whidbey Island was as moist and green and beautiful as ever.
The weather alternated between glorious autumn sun and the drizzle and fog that one expects in the northwest in November. I rode ferries, walked on beaches, knitted or read by the fire, loitered in little cafes, spent time with my parents, visited a few old friends, had Thanksgiving with my cousins on Bainbridge Island, and generally had a marvelous time.

I drove back to Montana at a leisurely pace (hey - I can drive like an old lady now that I am one!). The first half of the drive was mostly in fog and rain. I ran into a blizzard in Deer Lodge and took about twice as long as normal to make the drive from Butte to Bozeman. It was so icy in Bozeman that the traffic was going about 25 mph on the interstate. When I finally got to the bottom of our hill, I decided to park there and hike up the hill rather than try to put chains on in the dark and cold. The layer of ice under about six inches of snow made me loathe to try the road without chains.

I saw a car parked above me on what I thought was the road with its lights on. As usual, I had not thought of bringing a flashlight, so I was going to have to walk in the dark. While I was putting my boots and gloves on, I heard the door of the car above me slam. Then two barking dogs came running down the hill through the woods from the car. It was about 8pm and dark, and I didn't know these dogs, so I was a little worried, but they were a couple of friendly golden retrievers, who ran up to me and jumped around nudging my hands. I petted them a little, and started walking toward the road up the hill. The dogs ran ahead of me, and then I saw they were circling a man walking down the hill from the car. I called out "hello" to him and he didn't answer. I have to admit I was a little creeped out by this scenario. Again I called "Hello? What's up?" and he muttered something unitelligible, then stopped and looked back up the hill. After coughing a few times and muttering some more, he finally managed to say, "I ran my car off the road up there." I asked if he wanted to use the winch on my truck to get his car back on the road, but he said, "no, no.." I tried to determine if he lived up there, and was thus a neighbor, or if he was just visiting someone, but he was very vague. Finally, he said, "I hit my head, and I'm not thinking too straight." Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe he didn't just slide a little off the road and get stuck, but had actually crashed. I'm so used to being in the city when injured people need help, I offered to call 911. Of course, that would work here, too, but it would take a long time. He kept saying he would be alright, but he just didn't know where he was. Since he was walking and talking (by that time I realized he had hit his head hard enough to be badly disoriented, and that he had probably been unconscious for some time), I finally talked him into letting me put his dogs in the bed of my truck and drive him into town to the hospital. When we got into the truck, I could finally see him, and he was covered in blood from a couple of gashes in his forehead and temple. I cranked up the heat and drove into town. By the time we got to the frontage road, his mind was clearing up and he told me who he was and that he lived near me and that his daughter lived a block away from the hospital and could take the dogs. We dropped the dogs off in her yard, then I took him to the emergency room. I am so incredibly glad I came along right when I did. Who knows how long he would have wandered around out there in that condition? With the blood loss and head injury, he might have frozen to death out there alone. It was disconcerting not to be able to do a full work-up on him as I would have in my aid car days - carefully evaluating his condition, cleaning him up, bandaging his cuts and stablizing him before transporting him - but I had no first aid kit and we were out in the snow in the dark. Scoop and run, we used to call it when we would just pick up a patient and drive him to the hospital without stablizing him first (usually because he was bleeding to death). In this case, scoop and run was my only option, and it turned out okay, although my truck seat got soaked in blood. From now on, I'll carry a first aid kit and a flashlight in the truck.

The next afternoon, when I walked back down to the truck, some other neighbors I don't know were there getting into their car to go to town. I introduced myself and it turns out they work with him and are good friends. They had spoken to him and told me he is all right, but he is still in the hospital. I think he had a bad concussion. He's not a young man, but he seems plenty tough. When I saw his car in the daylight, I could see that he had gone off the bank and probably gone airborne a little, then slid headfirst -hard - into the trees. He told me he had tried to go up the hill in four wheel drive without chains, but he couldn't make it because of the ice, so he tried to back down the hill, but he lost control and built up too much speed, and slid off the road.

Anyway, I'm glad it turned out all right. I got to know a few new neighbors, but this is definitely not the way I would prefer to meet them.

On a happier note, winter seems to be here now. It has been quite cold, with lows around 5 or 6 degrees the last two days. Today the sky was clear and the sun shone brilliantly on all the new snow. Montana winter in al its glory. I put the chains on the truck and found I can still drive in and out to the house with four wheel drive and chains on. Tom had arrived back two days before me, so the Little Car is here, too. We are keeping Little Car in the parking area below to use as a town car and leaving the chains on the Beastie to go up and down the hill until there is enough snow that we need to switch to the snowmobile.

I'm incredibly happy to be back, and enjoying the winter weather as always. I love this place. It is always an adventure.