Why Am I Still Alive Pt. 56: Deserted in the Desert
August 11, 2023.
It was about 5:30 am or so and I’d been awake since arriving home at 2 am from a 10-day international trip. I was in a good mood – I had been teaching workshops abroad to an amazing group of emerging leaders and having adventures. Participants were from Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, and Uzbekistan. I couldn’t sleep because was still on Central Eurasian time having spent the last 10 days in Tbilisi, Kutaisi, and Batumi, Georgia (the country, not the city), and the associated 11-hour time change had necessarily made sleep difficult. Restless in bed, I had a sudden inspiration: I’ll take the e-mountain bike out and try to catch the sunrise. As a night person, sunrises were relatively few in my memory collection. I had probably drank very little water in the last 30+ hours of straight travel, maybe longer. The final night was a Gala dinner for 5 hours followed by a 5 hour car service ride to Tbilisi and then 24 hours of flying with 2 stops to Vegas. Yes, in hindsight I was already exhausted and massively dehydrated…
The e-mountain bike is an amazing contraption. 560 watts of power in a pedal assist mode means you can pretty much climb the most difficult terrain without breaking a sweat. You can go off trail straight uphill. I bought the bike to be able to get out farther and see more remote areas. Riding here in Vegas is quite technical and slow. An hour's ride on a pedal-only bike grants you a meager 8 miles. The e-bike can get you out 20+ miles in one hour… a danger I had not really considered.
For some reason that I can’t really comprehend, I did not do ANY of my usual pre-biking protocols. The e-bike has no water bottle cages and I didn’t put on a cycling jersey with pockets to hold water bottles as I would normally do. In my head I was just going out for a quick jaunt to “watch the sunrise” so I didn’t bother with putting on cycling clothes, bike shoes or even checking my phone’s charge. I wore loose sandals versus bike shoes and then put the bike on “level 5” and zoomed up into the hills at 28.5 mph to catch the sunrise.
The rest of this story is a bit hazy. I remember leaving my normal single track trail paths to try and find a way to see the sunrise. I also remember failing in those efforts and deciding to return home only to have the e-bike suddenly bounce its chain into the spokes over some rough terrain and it became instantly unrideable. At 60 lbs. and without the ability to even walk it (the rear wheel was locked up) my only option was to abandon it and walk (It was never ever found). My bike deserted me in the middle of the desert. I wasn’t sure of the way out of the valley I was in and checked my phone. It was dead. I wasn’t that worried at the time – I figured that I could walk up any ridge and get my bearings. But 30 minutes (a guess) later I had scrabbled up an arduous ridge and saw… nothing… just more hills. I reversed course. I remember passing the abandoned bike and trying a different ridge. This too led to nowhere. At this point, all I remember is walking, endlessly. The temperature had quickly climbed to 105 degrees or more and I have a recollection of “Oh shit – I could die out here”. But even then, I didn’t believe it.
Probably my last recollection was just choosing a path – downhill – assuming that at some point I would find civilization. The heat increased and I was feeling it in my veins. I felt like I was burning from the inside out. Like just being dipped in gasoline, and set on fire, but gas was in your arteries. It was the worst feeling ever. I was also very, very angry that I could not get my brain or my limbs to function properly. I was staggering about, running into the low-lying desert plants, ripping the flesh off my legs but I couldn’t control it. I hated this. More than anything I hated the loss of control – for my whole life I’ve had a great sense of balance and complete control of my limbs – but that was gone. I guess it was like being super drunk or on drugs. But I was neither.
Another recollection. At some point, after a few hours of fruitless hiking, I was pretty sure I was going to die and I really, really didn’t want to. Not so much for me – in fact I didn’t think of self-preservation at all. I started doing something that was absolutely counter to my needs to preserve my fluids, but regardless, I started yelling… “Katelina!… Dorothy!… Mariana!. (These were the primary people I needed to live for.) I feel like I was screaming these names into the desert for hours and just staggering forward having no idea where I was going. Katelina, Dorothy, Mariana! Katelina, Dorothy, Mariana!
The burning in my veins and head was reaching a place where I could barely place my feet. I fell down multiple times – later I had strange bruises everywhere (and I NEVER bruise) but I kept staggering forward hoping to find a house or a stranger or … anything. I have a visceral memory of wondering why I didn’t know where to go. I can’t remember half the things that people tell me, but I am nearly eidetic with directions – if I have visited a city and walked, driven or biked it – I can’t ever be lost – even decades later. I could show you how to navigate Venice or Yerevan or Cairo. So… how could I be lost in my home territory?
The jeep when it appeared, was like a mirage at first. I thought I had conjured it. It came up a rough trail I had managed to stumble upon just prior.
Per their observations at this point, I was just walking in small circles, muttering to myself (the names of my loved ones) but when I saw them, I had the presence of mind to wave them in. I knew I was in really bad shape. It had been more than 5 hours in the sun and heat. They were kind. I remember getting into the left rear seat which appeared to be leather and worrying about being sweaty and being offered a bottle of water. I drank it. Then another. And another. I drank 7 bottles of water in probably less than 5 minutes…
(Which is apparently its own danger – I was told but have not corroborated that drinking too much water quickly when dehydrated can stop your heart as it no longer has the electrolytes needed to control its function – I did a quick search and I’m not sure about this… ) Regardless I threw up probably 5 of those bottles out the window of the jeep a minute later. I was embarrassed but they were kind and did not complain. I did manage to spew well outside the window – and it was just water anyway.
They took me down the mountain. I quickly regained normal consciousness and was able to tell them where I lived. I got out at my condo complex; I got the man’s business card and then went up to my place. I called my girlfriend, who, wincing, pulled out all the thorns from my legs and feet. But then… I was fine. I have always been fine. I have a bit of an invincibility complex I guess.
She offered to make dinner, but no, I was on it. I did a Zoom call as well (though my business partner, Monica, suggested that I was “not myself.”) I made dinner. I was “fine.” The next morning we packed the car and I drove 6 hours to La Jolla, CA. We talked and chatted and I had pretty much forgotten about the incident except I was wondering if I would ever find or recover my $3000+ e-mountain bike. I actually didn’t really care. I had thought about trying to go look for it the next morning, but the idea of going out riding in the heat evinced some PTSD, so I just hoped I would find it later…
We arrived to La Jolla – it was cool – 68 degrees and cloudy, which was nice for me as I had some remaining fear of the 100+ heat of Vegas. We checked in to the hotel and then walked to dinner. We were about to order our meal, sitting outside on a lovely patio surrounded by bougainvillea.
That is when it started. The vertigo, the simultaneous sweating, chills, and nausea. I had not ordered yet which was good because I did not eat any food for the next 2 days. Mariana had to support me walking just to make it to the hotel and then – on what was supposed to be a romantic weekend getaway - she had to hold me for the next 5+ hours as I went through the single worst experience of my life.
It is a bit hard to explain but it was a combination of vertigo (which I HATE) and fever and chills and sweats and nausea – but in a repeated order. Basically, this woman held me tight as I went through a 5-hour bout of the worst loss of control of my life. I couldn’t stand up, I couldn’t get warm, I couldn’t cool off, I couldn’t know which way was up – I was just roiling through the tempests of a storm I didn’t understand. I simply latched on to her and shivered and shook and sweated and froze and didn’t know which way was up. She never wavered. She held me tight. She kissed my forehead. She ignored my sweaty body. By midnight the symptoms had faded, and I was able to sleep relatively normally.
The next day we walked around and explored the slightly cold, overcast La Jolla. I could not bring myself to eat but did manage a coffee. In the afternoon in a cold, light drizzle, we went to the cliffs overlooking the beach wearing the bathrobes from the hotel over our clothes to stay warm (I love how she doesn’t care what other people think). We had folding chairs from the hotel and we were basically the only people out. It is my favorite picture of us, just laughing and being stupid watching the waves crash on a cold drizzly evening – we stayed for hours.
I had echo vertigo, cold sweats and fevers for about a week. Yes, I visited Dr. Google and it turns out that heat stroke can be very dangerous… but here are the stats I remember reading. Organ damage to athletic heat stroke victims is quite rare – at 1.5% for medium heat stroke exposure which is most likely what I had (I never passed out). However involuntary/convalescent heat stroke victims have a 30% chance of organ damage. (Think drunk person at the pool that passes out and has heat stroke). I realized I had already had heat stroke in a minor way probably at least 100 times or more, racing 100 kilometer bike races 500 times in 100+ temps on my bike with only 2 water bottles. I used to get the “night sweats” after all these races. So I knew I would be fine.
I wasn’t planning on a 56th “I almost died” story - was hoping to have outgrown them with age and maturity… But this one was the worst for sure. Even nearly dying of cold was nowhere near as bad… https://johnkcoyle.com/blog/2008/07/31/walden-principle-2-racing-is-the-best-training-sleeping-in-a-haystack
PS: No – the bike was never found - maybe it is out there still…