I'm so glad you shared this information. Poor Mark and Amy, and what great dogs! And, what a lot of courage everyone has! The need for strength and resillience will doubtless be needed from now on. I hope he gets lots of donations. Thanks again. You're a good friend. Penny
On 10/25/13, Cara Quinn <[email protected]> wrote: > Hi All, > > I normally would never ever allow any messages here about donations. IN this > case though, this situation very much warrants this. > > One of our listers and a dear friend of mine, has had an extreme tragedy > with a loved one and I am officially asking for donations on his behalf. > > Even a single dollar will be greatly appreciated here. > > Now, before anyone objects to this, there is a time and a place to allow a > note like this. This is that time and place. This is simply the right thing > to do, and I know that when you read the below account, you will agree with > me. > > If anyone takes issue with this then I urge you to write me privately and > furthermore I extend my deepest apologies for wasting your time. > > For those who would like to donate, there is a PayPal button on the > following page. > > http://www.markburninghawk.net/music.html > > You may read this story at Mark's FaceBook page and I've also pasted it > below. > > Again for those for whom this is an issue, remember, your delete key works > just fine in this instance. :) thanks for obliging me. > > FaceBook link and story are below this note. > > Thanks to all of you for being here and making these lists what they are. > > I wish you and yours all a wonderful weekend and thank you very much for > whatever donations you can share. > > Take care of each other. :) > > Sincerely, > > Cara quinn > > Mark Baxter FaceBook > > https://www.facebook.com/markburninghawk.baxter > > > The Story > > Last Saturday afternoon, taking advantage of the beautiful weather before > the rainy winter arrived, Amy and I decided to go for a short hike. We > drove to the Damnation Creek trail head on HWY 101, near Klamath, CA, and > intended to be back at our car within a couple of hours, as it was already > late afternoon, and would get dark soon. > > Ezra was guiding me as usual, and Luke was shepherding us all as usual, and > we were both enjoying the rugged landscape and giant redwood trees. Softly > scented air was dappled with sun and shade as the trail first descended, > then wound up to a narrow wooden bridge, at a fork with the Coastal Loop > trail. > > We decided to venture a ways down the Coastal Loop trail, hoping it would > "loop," back to the footbridge. No such luck. > > At first, the trail, mostly composed of an old highway and well maintained, > was great for hiking, so we continued. By the time it got narrow and steep > again, and Amy could see the ocean through the trees ahead, we needed to > turn back; it was getting dark. > > We tiredly turned and made our way back down the trail, until we were mostly > back to the footbridge. We stopped to catch our breaths and let the dogs > pee, and somehow, Amy fell. I heard her fall, cry out, then a crash, then > nothing. I called out, "AMY! Amy, can you answer me?" I heard nothing for > a few minutes. > > When I heard a sound, I didn't think it was a human making it. It was Amy > screaming. > > I had to get down the cliff she had fallen over, to ascertain her condition. > I somewhat climbed, mostly fell down to where she was. She had landed > badly, on her back, on the rocks at the bottom of an old creek bed. Luke > was with her, and Ezra followed me down. > > Her screams of pain were constant, long and loud. She kept saying, "NO! NO! > NO!" over and over, and told me, "I can't feel my legs!" I sat for a while, > held her hand, listened to her scream. I knew I had to somehow get help. > > I had my iPhone 5 with me, but when I checked, I had no service. There was > no way I could move Amy; she was far too badly injured to climb up the > cliff. I had to climb up the cliff, helping Ezra up with me, and find a > place where I had enough cell service to call 911 and get a rescue team in > to get Amy. > > So, as she screamed, I tucked my maroon sweatshirt carefully under her head, > and said, "Baby, I love you; I will be back with help, I have to go get > help." She just kept on screaming. > > I found a chimney up the cliff, hauled Ezra up and got back to the trail, > which was fortunately very well-defined. I still had no service. > > I had no choice but to walk with Ezra guiding me down the trail until I > could call 911. Fortunately, Ezra was able to follow the trail, even in the > dark. Luke also had come up with us, and stuck close to us. > > We walked about a quarter mile until I got one bar of cell coverage. With > that one bar, having to call back ten or twelve times, I got 911 to contact > the sheriff, who sent in the volunteer search and rescue team to find us. > > There was some consternation when I told the sheriff that I couldn't give > visual landmarks. I explained that I was blind, had been hiking with my > sighted girlfriend, and she had fallen. I gave them the names of the > trails, but, No, I did not think I could get back to my vehicle, and no I > couldn't describe where I was. I told them about the bridge at the trail > fork. Then my iPhone battery got dangerously low. They had my GPS > coordinates by that time, so I settled down to wait, calling out from time > to time, in case they could hear me. > > That didn't stop the SAR people from hitting the trail, so I was told. I > was growing cold now, shivering in just sweats and a T-shirt. I had given > Amy my sweatshirt. > > I walked with Luke and Ezra back to the footbridge. The creek under it > whispered, defining the silence of the woods at night. Luke alternately > huddled against me and padded back and forth over the bridge. Ezra sat > close, being calm and patient. I had done all I could do. > > I began intermittently shouting, "HELLO! HELLO!" Finally, about four hours > later, my voice hoarse from dehydrating, shivering from cold, I heard a very > faint, "HELLO! Are you Mark!?" Oh yes, I was Mark all right. > > A few minutes later, a woman named Renelle ran up to me on the bridge, > followed by her partner Mel. Luke led them to where Amy had fallen, and > they found her. I got under a space blanket and drank water. > > It wasn't over. Amy couldn't move, and they had to get more people with a > back board and stretcher to get her up the cliff, and then we all had about > three miles of hiking out to do. Luke stayed with Amy and the rest of the > team, while Mel, Ezra and I started the long hike back to the highway. > > As we hiked along--by now it was about three thirty in the morning, pitch > dark save for Mel's flashlight--he soon discovered that Ezra and I could > navigate our way ahead better than he could try and guide me. As we walked, > we talked about Ezra, Guiding Eyes for the Blind, the school that trained > him, about dogs in general. Mostly he was just trying to take my mind off > what had just happened. > > I realized that Ezra and Luke were the real heroes of this night. Tired and > limping, Ezra nevertheless led me where I needed to go, avoiding obstacles > in the dark and finding sure footing. Luke led the rescue team to Amy, and > kept me safe while I waited for them. I have not yet stop sending my > gratitude to Dog for walking with me, for saving our lives. > > The last 0.7 miles was all up-hill, switchbacks and rock steps. As beat-up > and tired as I was, I cannot imagine what it was like for Amy to be > stretcher-borne out of there. I saw her briefly at the ambulance; she was > in shock, but she said, "Thank you, you did the best thing you could…" > > I got a ride home from a park ranger. I had Amy's car towed home. By then > it was 4:45 in the morning. I put the dogs to bed and just sat there for > the next hour giving my thanks. > > Luke came home with me and is subdued, confused and sad. > > Amy was taken to Sutter General Hospital in Crescent City. There, she was > determined to have a broken thoracic spine, three broken ribs and a > collapsed lung. As of now, she is either en route to or in surgery at OHS > in Portland. No one will tell me anything. > > The dogs and I are still recovering. I'm sore all over, Ezra is sore and > tired and Luke is being perfectly behaved for me while he waits for Amy to > return. > > It's far from over, but this is an update. I am anxiously waiting for news > of Amy. I frankly have no idea what comes next. > --- > View my Online Portfolio at: > > http://www.onemodelplace.com/CaraQuinn > > Follow me on Twitter! > > https://twitter.com/ModelCara > > -- > You received this message because you are subscribed to the "VIPhone" Google > Group. > > Post a new message to VIPhone by emailing [email protected]. > > Search and view the VIPhone archives by visiting > http://www.mail-archive.com/[email protected]/. > > Reach the VIPhone owner and moderators by emailing > [email protected]. > > Unsubscribe and leave VIPhone by emailing > [email protected]. > > More VIPhone group options can be found by visiting > http://groups.google.com/group/viphone?hl=en. > --- > You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups > "VIPhone" group. > To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an > email to [email protected]. > For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/groups/opt_out. > -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the "VIPhone" Google Group. Post a new message to VIPhone by emailing [email protected]. Search and view the VIPhone archives by visiting http://www.mail-archive.com/[email protected]/. Reach the VIPhone owner and moderators by emailing [email protected]. Unsubscribe and leave VIPhone by emailing [email protected]. More VIPhone group options can be found by visiting http://groups.google.com/group/viphone?hl=en. --- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "VIPhone" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/groups/opt_out.
