I sit down again, and now I am worried. Holy hell, I can't even stand up. I sit there for another few minutes and try it again. Blackness starts to creep in on the edges of my sight. &$! I sit again to avoid tumbling down the slope. Now I am seriously worried. What the fuck am I going to do now? My wife knows where I am, and I think about digging out the cell phone. I don't do it though.
Another 15 minutes go by. Wild thoughts go through my mind. Thoughts of sliding down the mountain on my ass and crawling to my car. That is going to suck. I will have to leave my split on the side of the slope and try to get back to my car. No. I am not leaving it. I don't know why not, but it was what it was.
45 minutes have gone by and I steel myself and stand very slowly. Still very dizzy, but I remain standing. 5 more minutes and I swing the pack over my shoulder, hitting my left hand with the edge of my board. Blood frikin' everywhere, and it won't stop. Not a large cut, but my blood thinners keep it from clotting. My hand is red and blood is dripping from my fingers... but I am standing and I have my pack on.
Down I go, very slowly and carefully. Takes about an hour to return to the car. My hands are still painfully cold. Even with quality mittens on.
I get loaded and head down the road with the heater on high. My hands just scream with pain as they warm up. Shit.
I did stop to snap off a few shots, so that the entire trip was not wasted.
