I wiggled my way through Thirteen Turns just north of the Bolinas Road turn off, and was moving at a steady but subdued pace (50-60 mph). Up ahead was the park gate where folks unload horses from trailers, and sometimes there are other things to watch out for...
...Like the huge deer that suddenly bolted from behind some bushes at the right shoulder, and plowed into the front of my bike. All I can recall is seeing a wall of brown fur, then it felt like being hit with a huge bag of venison. Sort of like "fur.bang.ughh".
I "came to" someplace down the road from where the initial impact had launched me into a seemingly endless series of hard landings on the hard road surface. "boom, bang, unnph, ackk, oooch, bang".
I managed to hobble across the road to where my VTR was lying in a puddle of oil and coolant, facing southward. There wasn't any way I was riding it home today. It was obviously very banged up, the forks and farings twisted together in a grotesque way. I sat down on the tank, flipped the ingition key off, and put it the key into one of my pockets.
A car approached from the direction of Point Reyes (north) and I stood up briefly to warn the driver of my presence. I then collapsed next to the bike and let things take their course.
The first person on the scene was the Chief of the Bolinas Volunteer Fire Department. While making an initial assessment of my condition, she also managed the basic tasks at hand, calling the EMTs and so forth.
Once the Point Reyes Station CDF Emergency Medical response guys arrived, we negotiated some basic things, most importantly the fate of my Aerostich Roadcafter riding suit. I wasn't about to let anyone cut that thing up, considering it had just saved my life.
My Arai GTR helmet also played a significant role in preserving my "gulliver". Once it was off I could see a number of deep gouges crisscrossing the back and front shield. Can you say, "helmets save lives!"?
Note:The guy in this picture located the antlers that I had knocked off the Giant Deer. He tossed them into his Prius, and drove off in a cloud of smug, with my fucking antlers!
Once I was at rest, I was keenly aware that I was not dead. I knew this because dead people don't feel like something shot them out of a cannon into a brick wall.
The first things that I noticed were that my feet had taken a few good hits, and that my right wrist was probably broken. I took a minute or so to make a basic inventory of what was left of me, taking mental notes of what seemed to be OK, and what was not.
I decided to try to get up and get across the road, where the mist was starting to turn into a light drizzle. The morning was still and eerily peaceful.
Getting the 'stich off was a rather complicated and moderately painful process. With all the EMTs, the Fire chief, and my new found talent as a wounded contortionist, we managed to save it and free me up to be strapped down on a back board.
Using some foam collar things, plenty of tape and some more contortions on my part, they secured my aching carcass to the board and gently loaded it into the transporter.