Boer Mountain, DAY 2: The shit hits the fan...

A dock... water... Déjà vu... RUN for your life!!!

I love Monday mornings at campgrounds. The place is empty after a buzzing weekend. Here, at Boer Mountain, the campsites are right by Kager Lake, so we went to sit on the dock in the morning sun and watched our new friends fish as we chatted. It was a gorgeous day and we were already making plans for the trails we wanted to ride. Since the people we had met were leaving in the afternoon, the girls and JF arranged for one last shuttle up the mountain with them.

I had done the shuttle the day before and knew that by the time I drove back down, the riders were usually back down too. But their pickup had been down here for a while and there was still no sign of them. I watched the clock, trying to convince myself that they probably had decided to try a different trail. I tried to quiet down the voice that was telling me that something was wrong. 

I was working on a translation contract when I heard Mathilde starting to give a guy the spiel about the Westy and the bus (the girls are getting pretty good at answering questions on our rig!) and came out to help her with some details. That's when I saw JF approach, all bloodied face and scratched, his woolen shirts ripped and with a weird look in his eyes. When he peeled off his glasses and I saw the gush on his nose, my legs almost went from under me (I would have been a very bad nurse...). Turns out he had caught a jump too fast and went flying and crashed face first on When Pigs Fly (just thought it was funny... I can now call him my little flying piglet...!). A minute after the crash, a friend found him sitting by his bike, dizzy. He helped him change his tube, assessed the damage and they slowly rode back down. We were on concussion watch for a while. I tried to convince him to have his painful shoulder checked at the hospital, but he said it felt OK (I knew he was still on adrenaline... and I also know that JF is always OK...). I sure am glad he had his full face helmet and protections when it happened (he doesn't usually wear them...). 

By 6 pm, he was looking worst and we decided to go to the ER. Sure enough, he had broken his humerus! The doctor said the tendon pulled so hard on the bone that it ripped the bone! The good news is that in a situation like that, one of two things happen: either the rotator cuff tears or the bone breaks. And a break is a much better option. Since they can't put a cast on a shoulder, he has to wear a stabiliser sling (absolutely no movement for 2 and a half weeks). Then, if he is painfree, he can slowly get moving. If not,  he will need to have an ultrasound done to assess the damage (if any) to the ligaments and tendons. 

After the verdict fell, we all piled back into the Westy and drove back up to the bus. When I turned off the engine, we heard a weird noise coming from the back. We jumped off and saw it: the white smoke! "Let's hope it's not the head gasket!",  we both exclaimed at the same time, incredulous... Really?! How many bad lucks can you have in a week??

JF turned around, leaving the Westy behind in the dark, and said: "I need a beer!"