A Note to the Reader  I am not a doctor, and in this article I’m writing only about what works for me, not laying down hard‑and‑fast recommendations for others. So ask your own physician to help you assemble a medical kit to meet your needs. And then be sure you learn how to use it. ‘Nuff said? I hope so.

I looked long and hard at the impressive series of stair‑step drops on The River. I looked at my inflatable. Then I asked myself, Can I portage this boat around the worst of the rapids without using the blazed trail? That trail climbs high up to the top of a ridge, where it parallels The River for almost a mile before returning to the water’s edge. In so doing, it avoids all the rapids, even the easy Class I‑II stretches at the bottom. I thought I could do better by bushwhacking a short distance through the woods on the flank of the ridge. I’d bypass the Class IV‑V drops, but I’d get a free ride in the easier water below.

Ignoring the visions of Deliverance that flashed before my mind’s eye, I started to climb, easing my way through a dense hemlock‑maple‑beech woods. Much of the time I couldn’t see my feet. This didn’t bother me. I was moving slowly, and there was nothing to worry about. Or so I thought. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. As I neared the end of my impromptu bushwhack, I caught sight of The River again. That’s when I felt the ground give way under my foot, followed immediately by a fiery bolt of pain that shot up my shin, stopping just short of the knee.

I eased the boat off my shoulder and lifted my leg to get a better look. The torn pants and dripping blood told me all I needed to know. Something — a sharp stub on a beaver‑gnawn branch? — had gouged a six‑inch‑long gash in my leg. Luckily, the laceration wasn’t deep, and though I’d also twisted my knee when I lost my footing, the joint could still bear my weight. Leaving my boat where it lay, I picked my way carefully down to the The River. Once there, I shucked off my rucksack and pulled out my “Doc Box.” Then I cleaned and dressed the wound. After that, I retrieved my boat and headed downriver as planned — a little stiff and sore, perhaps, but none the worse for wear.

As injuries go, this one was pretty minor. Still, I was glad I had my Doc Box in my pack. A first‑aid kit is the one Essential you hope you’ll never use, but when you need it, you’re always glad it’s there. And chances are good that you will need it, sooner or later, even if you’re not a hard‑charger. You don’t have to take a tumble on a greasy portage trail or bang you head when you blow a roll. There are plenty of less spectacular ways to get hurt. In fact, you’re most likely to come to grief in camp, cutting yourself while chopping vegetables for a stew, or burning your hand when a pot boils over. Or maybe you’ll just spend a little too much time out in the midday sun and suffer accordingly. This sort of thing isn’t exactly uncommon, is it? Which is why a first‑aid kit is truly Essential.

But this leaves a vital question hanging in the air: What should it contain?… Read more…

Send a Comment