Colorado’s Beaver Creek Wilderness Area is steep, rugged country. Athough not far from Colorado Springs as the crow flies, it’s surprisingly isolated and, as we later discovered, has no cell coverage.

During Sunday’s hike, we needed to apply some engineering and building skills to cross the deep, icy, fast-flowing Beaver Creek. At one crossing, we were able to lay down small trees to create a bridge. At another crossing, we attempted to move a small boulder into the creek. Our plan was to “strategically” place the boulder in a particularly deep spot, so we’d have handy-dandy stepping stones. It was going to be sooo easy. Simply roll the boulder down the embankment, and it will plop right into place. Right? Wrong.

Combine exurberance, wet rocks, ice, and sheer bad luck, and — just like that — someone was injured. A thick stick bowed then snapped under pressure, and our hiking buddy fell. The full weight of his body hurtled down into the creek, and his chest slammed into a sharp-tipped rock. He had difficulty breathing. He turned deep-red, then sheet-white. He nearly blacked out.

We had no cell service. We were still on the “wrong” side of a deep, icy creek. And we were miles from the trailhead and parking lot. Clearly, we had a problem.

It was surprising how quickly a fun outing transformed into a dangerous situation. We stayed calm. We assessed the extent of his injuries as best we could. We allowed plenty of time for recovery. After a time, he did recover fully. Thankfully. Now we could all breathe again.

But here’s the thing: We thought we were prepared. After all, we always carry plenty of water, a first-aid kit, extra clothing, and some food. For a severe injury, those items would have been virtually useless. What if he had been impaled? What if a lung had collapsed? What if he had had a heart attack? I shudder to think how our hiking buddy would have fared if we needed to get him to a  hospital — or if we needed to get an ambulance or emergency helicopter to the site. We would have had to rely on our wits to deal with all aspects of the situation: treating wounds, getting help, and so forth.

All week, I’ve been thinking about the incident. The word that has been on my mind is self-reliance. Even when you think you’re prepared, stuff happens. You have to be able to rely on yourself — and have people around you whom you trust.

Self-reliance is the stuff that built the West. It fuels entrepreneurs, solopreneurs, and small business owners. With self-reliance, the next time a problem or disaster strikes (on a hike, in life, or in your business), you have “more-better” skills to tackle it. You’re more confident. You’re more experienced. You’re stronger. You’re self-reliant.

[Photos by Michael Baum]
Top photo: A hiker crosses our bridge while my dog Jake jumps.
Bottom photo: Rugged country of Beaver Creek Wilderness Area