I had to drink my own pee to survive after I smashed pelvis in hiking accident in California desert

A TRAVEL writer explains how her accident in the Californian desert helped her learn to open up and let people in.

Claire Nelson, 37, is a magazine journalist based in London who broke her pelvis while hiking alone in Joshua Tree. Here she explains how she survived four days in the desert drinking her own pee.

“I had been lying injured in the desert for three days when I finally accepted that I might die. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I imagined my shattered bones decaying in the dusty valley.

I desperately wanted to live, but I was losing strength. I moved to London from my native New Zealand in 2005 and began working as a magazine journalist.

I came across as strong and upbeat, but over time I began struggling with depression. I had a flatmate, and was social, but I felt lonely and disconnected. By 2017, I went to see my GP and was prescribed antidepressants.

I knew that something had to change. When I was made redundant, I decided to go and live in Canada, where I could explore nature and clear my mind.

In March 2018, I began travelling around Canada and spent the next couple of months driving past snowy vistas and hiking in the mountains.

When some friends in Joshua Tree, located in the Californian desert, invited me to house-sit for them two months later, I jumped at the chance. It was rattlesnake season, with temperatures reaching 40°C, but I felt confident and content being
on my own.

On May 22, I set off for a seven-mile hike into the valley towards an oasis of palm trees, thinking that I would be back in four hours. It was an idyllic walk past cacti and juniper, with panoramic views of the desert. But halfway to the oasis, while climbing over a pile of boulders, I slipped and fell 25ft.

My pelvis shattered on impact, causing indescribable pain. I realised I couldn’t move from the waist down and was unable to sit or stand.

Panicking, it hit me that I was too remote to have any phone signal, so I couldn’t call for help, and I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. When I checked my location on my offline Google Maps, I discovered I’d somehow gone a mile off the trail.

I began to realise that my chances of dying were high, but as I pictured my family and friends, I knew I had to stay calm to make rational decisions.

I focused on practical tasks, such as using my hiking stick to apply sunscreen to my legs and making a shade out of a stick and a plastic bag. But the heat was relentless. After 24 hours, my water was running out. I had a packed lunch of a
sandwich and a protein bar, but I wasn’t hungry – just desperately thirsty.

I had to drink my urine, collecting it in a paracetamol jar and saving it up in my empty bottle to drink. It made me gag, but at least it offered a little hydration.

The nights were terrifying. I imagined snakes crawling out of the shadows, and every sound made me freeze. After four days, I truly believed I was going to die.

My mouth felt like chalk, and I was so weak I had no fight left. And then, out of nowhere, came the sound of a voice over a loud-hailer. It was a rescue helicopter. The friends I was house-sitting for had called them.

On its third fly-over, they caught a glimpse of me waving my sunshade. I felt relief wash over me as they airlifted me to hospital in Palm Springs and rushed me to intensive care, where I spoke to my family by phone.

My mum flew over to be with me, before having to return home to make arrangements for my care. I was in hospital for 18 days, during which time I had an operation to insert pins into my broken pelvis and was given rehydration fluids.

I left hospital in a wheelchair on June 11, and returned to Toronto, where Mum joined me, before taking me home to New Zealand that August. I had to learn to walk again, but was on my feet after just over six months.

After the accident, I got a renewed perspective on life. While I still take antidepressants, I realised I’d been putting up walls as a way of protecting myself from getting hurt, which had left me feeling lonely. I knew it was time to open up and let people in.

Over the summer of 2019 I wrote a book about the accident, Things I Learned From Falling. I moved back to London this February, stronger, more open and no longer afraid of being vulnerable.

In January 2019, I returned to the same trail where I fell in Joshua Tree National Park. I wanted to complete the hike for closure – but this time I went with friends.

As we reached the oasis, I realised hiking this trail on my own had almost killed me, but as soon as I’d let others in, I was able to complete it.”

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