The Yorkshire Vet: A crash in the woods and a call to Cleveland Mountain Rescue team

I stopped my bike computer and uploaded the route, so that at least anybody following me on Strava would notice my ride had been cut short and could identify my location. The sub-zero temperatures were draining my phone batteries quickly, so I switched to “Low Power” mode before assessing my situation more fully.

It was two o’clock on a freezing afternoon. It was snowing and I’d just crashed my bike. Although I was unable to stand, I didn’t feel too bad. However, I was by myself and had left my little bum bag in the van in the car park.

All the trails led back to the main forestry track, so my reasoning was that I’d never be more than a few minutes’ ride down- I came here every week so I knew the trails well. There had seemed no need for tools, spares, foil blanket, energy bars or woolly hat. I called Anne.

“I’ve had a crash. I’m not sure what’s happened. I’m gonna sit here for a bit then try standing up again. I’ll let you know if I need help,” I explained calmly, before giving exact details of my location in case my phone died. Or I did.

My second attempt to stand was equally useless and this time incredibly painful. Again, I screamed at the tree I was leaning on. Just then, a guy I’d seen earlier as I passed him going up a hill, came along. He waved, “you alright?”

“Yep, not bad,” I replied instinctively, before adding. “Actually, I’m not. I’ve crashed and I can’t stand up.” He came over to help and introduced himself as James.

I tried again, this time carefully positioning myself between James and the tree. We quickly abandoned that idea. The ground was irregular and hard, with ruts and peaks of mud made solid and unyielding by the cold. It was icy too and gradient was steep- at least in parts.

Could I hop? Not a chance. Could I slither backwards? It was not appealing and probably just as impossible.

Quickly, James and I came to the conclusion that I’d need carrying out of the steep woodland. I tried to calculate if I could summon enough local friends who might be at home and able to help. Possibly, but sense told me that I’d need a stretcher.

I made a call to the Cleveland Mountain Rescue, which was the nearest branch. They scrambled a team and sent encouraging messages that help was on its way. Darkness started to descend as steadily as the snowflakes, and I began to shiver. I had been warm, but the steep inclines around here mean it’s impossible not to ascend without sweating profusely.

Even if warm whilst moving, with inertia creeps a gnawing chill, especially as my clothes were clammy against my skin.

Suddenly, Anne appeared with Emmy and a bag of warm clothes. She knew the trails well and had found me quickly. Instantly, my mood and temperature lifted, and we hatched a plan to get the bike back and what to do later.

Despite the quite extreme situation, everything was remarkably calm, although I couldn’t stop castigating myself for being so stupid. All this trouble and nuisance, just for a simple slip on an icy afternoon.

Once the Cleveland Mountain Rescue Team arrived, everything was quickly under control. The initial medical assessment suggested there was considerable damage to my knee.

The three-inch gap where my knee cap should have been didn’t augur well. I’d find out more when I got to the hospital. To be continued…