So this weekend some friends and I went up to Whistler for an ATV guided tour. I’d never gone ATVing before, but it sounded like fun, right? Broaden my horizons, that’s what I say. It worked pretty well with the zip-lining.
I didn’t mind that the weekend turned out cold and rainy. I had the right gear, and they provided extra stuff like waterproof pants and goggles (for the mud). Was a little shaky on the controls, but with help from the hot French-Canadian guide, I was getting the hang of it. Turns were still a bit tricky, but I enjoyed the feel of cold mud and rain on me, and the loud, throbbing engine between my legs. Heh.
Then, halfway up the mountain, I lost control of my ATV and drove off the road.
The next few seconds were kind of a blur, to be honest. There was tumbling… and noise… and then I was looking up at the sky, rain in my face, and people were calling my name, asking if I was okay. Was I okay? My right wrist hurt like a bitch, various other body parts were sending damage reports, but nothing critical. I answered (hey, my voice was okay) and the guide yelled at me not to move. Check, not moving.
Looking around, I was about ten feet below the road. Oh, and there was the ATV, upside down and facing backward. Huh. Good thing I’d bailed out like the guides said to do if we lost control, otherwise I’d probably be posting this through a Ouija board.
So the hot French-Canadian guide came down and checked me out. No, not that way, you pervs. Neck was fine, back was fine, yes I could move my toes. Nothing seemed broken except maybe my wrist. My vision was getting cloudy, which in a way was kind of cool: just that morning we’d watched “Enzo the Smart” (you know, the ReBoot episode where everything turns 8-bit?) And it was just like that, all in shades of blue and green. Mind you, in a way it wasn’t so cool, because I was afraid I’d pass out or my brain got bonked even through my helmet.
My left shoulder, side and leg, and lower back muscles were seriously sore, but with a bit of help I walked back up to the road. They say any accident you can walk away from is a good one, right? So we waited for the van to take me down to the health centre. Sandra offered to stay with me, but I told her she didn’t have to do that. I felt (mostly) fine, and also guilty of ruining my friends’ good time with my carelessness.
At one point my vision got seriously worse, and I had to sit down. Don’t know why I’d kept standing that whole time—maybe to prove I was really okay? But as soon as I sat, my head cleared and I could see again. I guess it was just shock, my brain was okay after all.
On the way back to town, we saw a black bear by the side of the road, so Todd the hunky guide (seriously, where do they find these guys?) stopped so I could take a picture.
It was a healthy specimen, said Todd, with a good thick coat. A bit later, we saw a cub by itself. No pictures, sorry.
At the health centre (warm at last!) my wrist hurt too much, so I had to have the nurse help me take my pants off. What a revoltin’ development this was!
Okay, so, final verdict: ribs, not broken. Wrist, either a sprain or a scaphoid fracture. Apparently they’re hard to diagnose even with X-rays, so I’m wearing a splint for now. Which… is taking a bit of adjusting, and that’s putting it mildly. Not to complain, lucky to be alive and all that, but going without my dominant hand is a huge pain in the ass. See, I typed that “in ht eass” at first. Even dressing myself one-and-a-half-handed is fucking hard, and I may have to keep doing it for 2 months or more. Bleah. Well, this too shall pass, and I’ve learned my lesson: no more Xtreme sportz for this little lame duck