Send Help!

There was an early morning fog on the day of our planned mountain bike expedition – an omen that I should have paid more attention to. Eight members of the family reunion said they would make the trip, but only 5 followed through on the plan. We wanted to try out the famous Maah Daah Hey Bike Trail System, which is Native-American for “an area that has been or will be around for a long time.” The side trail that we were directed to was the “Bully Pulpit Trail.” This was supposed to be “easier” than the main MDH trail.

I’ve done a fair amount of road biking. I haven’t done much mountain biking, however. But the five of us were in the mood for an adventure, and that’s exactly what we got.

We started on the challenging bike trail system. These narrow trails go up and around the Badland hills, making frequent switchback turns, and then traverse down through one twisted forest ravine after another. The vistas were beautiful and the biking was exhilarating – which gave us the sense that we were on a real adventure.

The trail map said we were about halfway through our planned ride. Or so we thought. The way back was supposed to be all downhill. We had been out for almost three hours, and so we decided (unanimously) to go forward – rather than doubling back on the trail we had come in on. And so we pressed on. . .

At two o’clock we ran out of water. At four o’clock, we were exhausted, dehydrated, and wondered if we would ever get home.

“How long has it been since we drank water?” my youngest son asked.

“You know the answer,” I replied. “Don’t think about it. We need to just keep going.”

The trail markers (with their telltale “turtle” engravings) told us we were still on the trail – but we couldn’t tell if we had one mile, five miles, or ten miles to go. Fortunately we had our cell phones with us. The cell phone coverage, however, was spotty. We were able to call the bike rental shop. They wanted to know if we had passed any “milestones” along the way. They told us that we could take the upcoming “gravel road” for a quicker way home.

The oldest member of our crew, my wife’s “third cousin,” was struggling. He had leg cramps, had fallen several times, and was thoroughly exhausted. Then he fell once again, remained lying on the ground, and said he couldn’t go on. His son, my wife’s “fourth cousin,” was also sick. He was dehydrated and was having dry heaves. The other three (me and my two sons) would have to go on without them. Our cousins would stay put, and we would go find help.

We biked for another 1-2 hours, made several steep descents, but didn’t find anything hopeful. I sent my middle son to explore the trail ahead, hoping that he could find the elusive road. He came back discouraged. He said he had biked “a long way” without finding anything. We had been optimistic until that point, but now our hopes were deflated. We were exhausted and dehydrated. We knew we were in trouble – and needed help to get out of this Badlands dilemma.

At six o’clock (9 hours into our planned 4 hour outing) we called 911, but didn’t get any answer. We tried again – from different locations – and finally got through. We explained our predicament. They were able to lock onto our GPS location, and within the hour were able to rescue us (by ATV) from our meadows location. Our cousins, however, were still trapped on the top of a distant mountainous butte. They could not be reached by ATV, and their medical condition would not allow them to take the treacherous trail to where we were at. A helicopter was called in. Our cousins were airlifted to the Dickinson hospital, treated, and then released later that evening.

This experience taught me a few things. It taught me to be careful about embarking on “adventures” that I don’t know much about. Bring lots more water than you think you need. Most importantly, realize that sometimes a person needs help. There are some situations, it seems, that you aren’t gonna get out of unless you ask for help.