My left ankle looks like it has a golf ball embedded inside it.

Earlier today, I hiked up the Old Mount Wilson Trail above Sierra Madre. On the way up, I dropped one of my water bottles over the side of the trail, and it skittered down into the bushes. I decided to pick it up on the return trip since I had a liter of some Gatorade-style thing. I also ran into a group from the Sierra Madre Search & Rescue on the way up; apparently one of a group of three had become dehydrated and had had to be airlifted. They were escorting the two other members of the party down.

Proceeding onward, I hiked up about two miles and 1300', then, since I was wet, it was hot, and the green Gatorade-thing was over half done, I decided to turn around.

Shortly after starting a moderate jog down, I spotted a (too) young lady coming up the trail. Momentarily distracted and jogging through a small gravel slide, my left foot twisted inward about 50 or 60 degrees.

Seemed OK. For about a second. Then, the massive pain began.

The young lady offered to walk me back down, perhaps to meet up with the Search & Rescue team. I had to sit down the pain was so intense, but, after assuring the young lady that I'd be OK, I was able to hobble down the trail towards "civilization," Jack London style. Walking down the rocky sections was a bit painful, but on the dirt sections I was able to achieve a slightly faster hobble.

On the way back, a young rattler slithered across the trail just two feet from where the water bottle had gone over. I decided not to go for it.

Needless to say, there could have been much worse places for something like this all to happen.