Blood and butterflies

They say you find love when you stop looking. I never actually believed it. Then I met Matt. Lots of people have asked how we met and, the story, like each of us, is a pretty crazy one. We joined the same team, which led to quite a bit of chatting online. After some time (and proper internet "stalking"), the comments directed at each other became mostly juvenile stabs at each other in elementary school, playground-style flirting. We both signed up for a group hike and, on August 19, 2012, we met in person for the first time. In true fashion for both of us, the childish jabs and teasing continued through the hike. My hot pink compression sleeves were quite the topic of discussion as we hiked into Fish Canyon with 22 team members. The hike was technical and it was hot and dry out but we had the promise of a waterfall and swimming hole at the back of the canyon that dangled like a carrot in front of the group. Despite our nearly continuous mocking of each other, Matt, being the true gentleman that he is, offered to share his water with me several times after I ran out...which I, being the stubborn ass that I am, declined. It took us four hours to reach the back of the canyon and, when we did, the waterfall was dry. As we poked around, we noticed a rock flue that led to a lower pool. While the waterfall and the upper pool were dry, the lower pool had water. I've never seen water so green and nasty before, but after four hours of intense hiking, we all quickly stripped down to bathing suits and waded in. We discovered the area right beneath the rock funnel was the deepest spot and, if careful, one could jump in feet first with plenty of depth. Matt repeatedly cautioned everyone to jump feet first or cannonball as the pond became shallow quickly as you moved away from the deepest areas. We swam, drank, laughed, teased, and relaxed with each other, no one wanting to leave and head back onto the hot trails just yet. Even to this day, no one really has a clear understanding of exactly what happened next. (He still claims he was trying to show off for me.) As Matt jumped into the pond, I heard several people gasp. I turned around to see Matt crawling out of the pond, on hands and knees, visibly disoriented and stunned. In that split second, life slowed to a crawl and everything went quiet. I yelled his name and he slowly turned to face me. As his eyes met mine, the blood surging out of the wound on his head became visible. Without thinking, another team member and I placed our bare hands over the top of his head to try and slow the blood loss. The sudden realization that we were trapped in the Canyon with no cell phone signal and no way out other than to hike out finally hit. As if by switch, life surged back to its normal pace as we struggled to figure out logistics and prepare to hike out. We packed the wound, which we were able to see was down to the skull, with gauze and taped several layers of cloth and padding to the top of his head. Matt insisted he was okay to at least attempt hiking out and so, with no other option, we started our trek out. As we hiked out, all phones continued to show no service. To my surprise, about a mile into the hike out, my phone suddenly got reception. Three teammates stayed with me while the rest of the group continued their hike out. I connected to a 9-1-1 operator with no breaks in reception. Unfortunately, the operator was having trouble locating us. Miraculously, my phone pulled up GPS coordinates without disconnecting the call (the first and only time my phone has opened a locator app with an active call going) and we were able to give them our precise location. The operator agreed to let me go to catch up with the group and let me know a helicopter was in the air. I let my teammates know I wanted to catch up to the main group to let them know the call had gone through. They agreed to stay together and I started running. After running a half marathon the day prior and with two bricks in my pack for training purposes, I had no intentions to run that day. As I sprinted the narrow trails back out, I didn't feel the aches and pains that had plagued me all day. The only thought in my mind at that moment was getting back to Matt. It took me about 15 minutes to catch up with the group. At about that time, the helicopter could be heard circling overhead. Matt was still going strong, but the effects of the blood loss were quickly becoming more noticable. As we rounded a bend in the trail, a uniformed firefighter stood in the path waiting for us. I have never been more thankful to see a first responder. They assessed him and determined he was fit to walk the remainder of the trail out. Once out, he quickly declined medical transport and the first responders were satisfied with the decision as he had stopped bleeding by that point; the circling helicopter was waved off. I spoke with Matt's close friends to ensure he had transportation to the hospital and was assured he did. I offered to take him myself several times, but was turned down flat every offer. As we left the trail, we both lingered in the parking lot. I'd like to think we were both trying to work up the courage to exchange numbers but we barely got a chance to talk. Matt, being the new rockstar of the group, was busy fulfilling everyone's requests to take pictures commemorating the day. As we parted ways, I wasn't certain of what had taken place that day, but I knew that this crazy, sweet guy that I'd spent the first half of the day flirting with and the second half of the day worried sick about, was someone that I really wanted a chance to get to know better. Perhaps in a setting without quite so much blood. But, the butterflies in my stomach, those could stay.