Ellie blushed, “Marlee can do it. Or I can.”

“I don’t mind, Ellie. I’ve seen so many blisters that it might be helpful for me to take a look. Just to see how bad it is, and if I need to drain it or not.” I cringed when he mentioned draining the blister. Dad always says that it’s best to protect a blister and to not drain it. However, if a blister is bound to break open, it’s better to drain it than to let it break. Draining a blister, done by carefully poking a sterile needle into the skin along the perimeter of the blister, does not come without pain though. I hoped for Ellie’s sake that her blister would be protected by the moleskin, a tough layer of cotton that surrounds the blister, kind of like a tiny inner tube.

“Sawyer,” Ellie fidgeted uncomfortably, “umm, my feet, uh, don’t smell the best right now.”

Sawyer’s eyes lit as he suddenly understood why she didn’t want his help. “Well,” he kindly said, “I doubt your feet smell bad as Marshall’s. But if it would make you feel better, I can take off my hiking boots, which would cause you to pass out from their terrible odor, and then you wouldn’t even be aware that I was anywhere by your feet. Your non-smelly feet,” he added with a smile. I was certain that he was remembering the “Smelly” incident when he said that.

Ellie giggled when he claimed that his feet smelled so bad that it would make her lose consciousness. We all laughed, actually, even Lydie a little bit. Ellie reluctantly untied her boot, and carefully removed her wool sock, then her nylon sock liner. Sock liners move with a hiker’s foot, while the sock moves with the boot. The idea is that any friction from hiking will be absorbed between the sock liner and the sock, thereby reducing blisters. Once in a while though, blisters can happen regardless of precautions.

“Pretty good sized, Ellie,” Sawyer commented as he held the backside of her heel, looking over her whole foot. Sure enough, on the outside of her right foot toward her heel was a white bubble of skin, about the size of a quarter. She nodded in agreement. Marshall whistled and jokingly asked her if she had gone hiking lately. Lydie grimaced, but I tried to maintain a neutral expression.

Sawyer observed her entire foot carefully for a moment and then asked how her other foot was doing.

“That foot feels fine,” she stated, “It’s just this that is out of control.”

Sawyer nodded, gently pressing on her blister. “Well, as you know, we don’t want to drain this unless we think it’s going to burst on its own,” Ellie nodded as he continued to observe her foot. “I think this one will be okay if you give me a few minutes with the moleskin. We’ll try to protect it.” Sawyer went to work with the first aid scissors and began to cut a square of moleskin larger than her blister. He then cut out the center of the moleskin, matching the size of the damaged skin, so that the moleskin looked like a tiny inner tube, except with square corners. He carefully positioned it on her foot with the sore skin sticking through the cut-out center of the moleskin. Next he used plenty of athletic tape to help the moleskin stay in place. Wrapping a couple pieces of tape over the edge of the moleskin and then around her ankle and heel, he asked, “Now how does this feel? Supportive without constricting movement?”

Ellie moved her foot around, trying out her range of motion. Nodding with an appreciative smile, she said, “This feels better. Thank you.” Sawyer smiled and she replaced her sock liner, sock, and boot.

“It’s always better to take care of a blister before it breaks. I’m glad you asked for help,” Sawyer affirmed. Marshall noticed their smiling at each other and gave me an inconspicuous wink. He too was amazed by their mutual cooperation this summer. If only he had seen what I had witnessed last night by the fire!

“Next, Marshall and I will hike to tree line and find two tree branches that will serve as poles for Lydie’s stretcher. Ellie, stay with Lydie. Marlee, can you write a large message in the snow? Make big block-style letters saying that we’re heading toward the ranger station and need medical help.”

We all nodded and set about our duties. I had heard Dad talk about fashioning a makeshift stretcher to evacuate a hiker, but I was interested to see how we would actually achieve it with sticks and a tarp. As I began to drag my fist through the top layer of snow, my forehead began to ache with pressure again. I squeezed my eyes shut, realizing that my sudden focus on the reflective snow in the morning light could have triggered a headache. After a moment, I slowly opened them, feeling sluggish. I had a feeling that the day ahead was going to be long and difficult.

9

“HEADING TOWARD RANGER STATION. LEFT AT 0700, TUES. NEED MEDICAL HELP.”

I stepped back, admiring my note. The letters weren’t all the same size, and in some places they ran together, but overall it was noticeable enough to grab someone’s attention and clear enough to convey the most important information.

I was estimating on the time. I had drawn the letters about two feet tall, so that way if a helicopter was on our search, the message should catch someone’s eye. Sawyer had instructed me to use block letters, and I think the reason is because straight lines, or geometric shapes, stand out among nature, whose shapes tend to be curvy. I squeezed my eyes closed again. The sun shining off the snow was giving me a headache, even with my sunglasses. Or was it the stick in my forehead? Maybe someday I would laugh about having a stick in my head, but not until the pain stopped. It was causing so much pressure that I desperately wanted it removed. I decided to ask if the group would take it out for me.

Meanwhile, Sawyer, Marshall and Ellie were fabricating Lydie’s stretcher. The tarp that Sawyer had in his pack, which served us last night to help keep us from becoming hypothermic, would now serve as an integral part of Lydie’s stretcher. Sawyer and Marshall were looking for two long, sturdy tree branches. The plan was to place the sticks parallel to each other on the tarp, slightly wider than Lydie’s body. Then we would fold the overhanging sides of the tarp to the center. Lydie’s bodyweight, once we positioned her between the sticks, would keep the tarp in place. The four of us would each carry an end of a stick and, God willing, evacuate her to help. Unless help found us first. Between Sawyer’s bruised leg and my head, I was feeling extra dependent on God.

“Nice penmanship, Marlee,” Lydie teased. I weakly smiled in return. “Are you okay?” Lydie asked.

I squatted, and then sank to my knees, “I just have a headache,” I murmured.

Ellie rushed to my side. “You’ve been drinking water; I doubt you’re dehydrated. Could it be hunger?” Ellie had a point there. Often, when I am hungry, a headache starts.

“It feels like pressure in my head, where you all decided I have a stick stuck in my forehead,” I told her.

Ellie cradled my jawbones in her hands and looked closely at the wound. “The boys are almost back,” I heard Lydie say.

“It’s pretty red and swollen,” Ellie quietly said. “Maybe we do need to remove it now.” I nodded, praying that removing it would alleviate the forceful pressure above my right eyebrow. I was feeling weaker by the minute.

A moment later Sawyer and Marshall were at my side with the first aid kit. The guys helped ease me onto the beach chair snow boulder, and I leaned back, wincing as the sun hit my eyes. Ellie shielded my eyes with her hands, and Lydie passed a water bottle to Ellie, who helped me sip.

“Alright, who wants to actually do the removal?” asked Sawyer. No volunteers. He reluctantly nodded, “Okay, then. I guess I’ll do it. Marshall, you be ready with plenty of gauze and peroxide. Ellie, stay by her face and make sure she stays calm and holds still. And while you do that, please hold the headlamp so I can easily see what I’m doing, but without shining it in her eyes. Lydie, please pray.”

The delegates immediately did as told, beginning with Lydie’s heartfelt prayer over this medical procedure and the coming day, and our parents. I loved how Lydie prayed so confidently, with no fear of embarrassment – just her talking to her Heavenly Father. She inspired me. I think the others thought the same.

“Marlee,” Sawyer calmly explained, “I’m going to go about this as if I was removing a sliver, because that’s basically what we’re dealing with. Since it is a large sliver, it will bleed, so that’s why Marshall is ready with gauze. Once we get a handful of gorp in your stomach, you can have a mild pain reliever.” I nodded, ready for relief. As Sawyer lifted his hands toward my forehead, I held my breath in an attempt to stay absolutely still.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marshall sterilize a small knife with an alcohol pad. I wasn’t supposed to see that, though. Since the twig, or sliver, had apparently gouged under the surface of my forehead, using a tweezers probably wouldn’t be enough. I focused hard on Ellie’s face so that I wouldn’t think about how Sawyer was removing the sliver. I felt a sting, followed by more pressure. I took a breath. Ellie’s face was serious and steady. I couldn’t see Sawyer’s face. I felt a tug, Sawyer impatiently sighed, another sting, then another tug. Ellie’s face suddenly relaxed and she smiled. The pressure was immediately less, and I knew that Sawyer was tugging the sliver out. Another small sting, and he held out the tweezers for us all to see the two inch long culprit. Sawyer’s estimate that its diameter was only that of a few pine needles was correct. It was the skinniest twig I’ve ever seen, but after this experience, I knew that it doesn’t take much to cause plenty of discomfort.

Lydie whooped for joy, and an instant later, I felt warm blood falling down my forehead. Marshall quickly passed the gauze to Sawyer, who swiftly cleaned the wound and applied compression. I sighed, feeling so much better already. I smiled up at Sawyer, who let out a deep breath.

“Your first backcountry surgery was a success!” cheered Lydie. I guess the excitement was perking her up.

Sawyer lowered his eyes and mumbled, “My first and my last.”

Lydie and I looked at him questioningly and he said, in a disgusted tone, “Once my admissions counselor at POGS hears about this, I can say goodbye to my future as a pro guide.”

“Why?” I didn’t follow what he was saying.

“We’ll be all over the news. The reckless kids who carelessly hiked at night and barely survived an avalanche. This will ruin my reputation. Nobody will ever hire me as a guide after this, Marlee.” Sawyer looked distressed.

“But why not? Natural disasters happen, and you’re guiding us to safety.”

Sawyer didn’t look convinced, but Marshall spoke up, “Marlee, you can see he’s upset about hiking us into an avalanche, and Lydie getting hurt. So just shut up with your cheerleading.”

Ouch. Okay, then. Point taken.

Sawyer looked at Marshall with wide eyes. Marshall tightened his jaw and looked away. I didn’t realize I had been such an annoying cheerleader. Boys. One minute you think you’re on good ground; the next you’re told to shut up. Weird! Maybe he was just feeling super “hangry.” I was embarrassed, but didn’t want to drag down the group, (since apparently I’m a cheerleader, of course), so I forced myself to focus on how much better my head felt.

I let my lungs fill with the clean mountain air, happy to relax my statue-still pose now that a knife was nowhere near my face. My headache nearly vanished, and though I was still famished, the weak and dizzy sensations were already feeling better. As Sawyer taped some clean gauze to my forehead, I actually felt able to hike today. I knew we’d still need God, but now at least hiking felt possible.

“You don’t look pale anymore, Marlee,” Lydie noted.

I nodded. “I feel tons better. Thank you all so much!”

Sawyer smiled, mischief in his eyes. “Well if POGS is out, maybe I can get into medical school. As long as my medical skills are so strong, what do you say we operate on Lydie now?” Ellie, Lydie, and I giggled.

Marshall rolled his eyes and gave his brother a playful, but surprisingly strong shove on the shoulder. While the shove was meant to be lighthearted, it caused Sawyer, who was resting his sore leg by my feet on the edge of the beach chair snow boulder, to stumble and flip across the snow chair, making his head and shoulders land in the packed snow. Ellie and Marshall rushed to his side. Lydie and I looked at each other with huge eyes.

“Sorry, man, you okay?” Marshall quickly said.

Ellie was at Sawyer’s head in a flash. Sawyer pushed up his upper body with his arms. He looked annoyed and humiliated, but otherwise okay. In a disgusted tone, he grunted and relied heavily on his arms to regain a standing position. His limp leg still hung. Ellie brushed snow off Sawyer’s shoulders and hat.

“Sawyer, I didn’t try to do that. Man, you just tumbled like a wet noodle. Are ya’ okay?” Marshall scrambled for words to apologize.

Sawyer gave his brother a glare and loudly whispered, “Seriously, man? In front of the girls? Come on!” Ellie blushed when he mentioned us girls, and I figured he really meant ‘in front of Ellie.’

Marshall looked down.

I was concerned about Sawyer’s leg. Not wanting to further embarrass him, though, I resisted asking. I walked a few feet away to where the guys had left the sticks that would serve as the poles for the stretcher. Since each of the two branches had a clean cut, I realized that Sawyer must have a handsaw in his pack. He sure was prepared! What a miracle that he is our guide, I thought, thanking God for his skill and preparation. The sticks were probably six feet long, and maybe three inches in diameter. They were even reasonably straight, as straight as sticks can be.