A Broken Ankle in Yosemite
- UNPLUG. Magazine
- Jun 8
- 4 min read
A weekend trip into Yosemite National Park turns into an improvised test of grit when one hiker breaks his ankle beneath the iconic Yosemite Falls and keeps moving anyway.
BY KAY ESPOSITO, May 8, 2026
NATIONAL PARK SURVIVAL
The plan was simple enough when four friends rolled into Yosemite National Park on a late spring morning: hike hard, take in the views, and finally see the legendary waterfalls they’d been talking about for years. They weren’t chasing records or summit bragging rights. It was supposed to be one of those trips where everything hurts just enough to feel earned but not enough to ruin the beer afterward. That changed halfway up the trail.
The group, Evan Carter, Luke Morales, Jenna Kim and Mark Dalton, started early on the Yosemite Falls Trail, a steep, sun-baked climb that switchbacks its way toward one of the most famous waterfalls in North America. The full falls drop an astonishing 2,425 feet, making it the tallest waterfall system on the continent. The Upper Yosemite Fall alone plunges about 1,430 feet before breaking into the middle cascades and eventually the Lower Yosemite Fall, which drops another 320 feet near the valley floor.
“It felt like the kind of place that humbles you immediately,” Evan said. “You’re just staring up thinking, there’s no way water does that every spring.”
The group moved steadily through oak woodlands and granite shade pockets, stopping often to look back at Yosemite Valley opening behind them. It was one of those trails where the views get better but your legs get worse. About two miles in, things took a turn. Mark Dalton, who had been leading most of the climb, stepped onto a loose section of rock near a narrow bend. His foot rolled awkwardly under him. The sound was sharp, like a branch snapping, but the pain that followed didn’t leave much doubt.
“I knew instantly something was wrong,” Mark said. “I tried to stand up and my ankle just wasn’t having it.”
At first, he tried to shake it off. Hikers do that, half denial, half stubborn optimism. But within minutes, swelling made it clear this wasn’t a “walk it off” situation. The group was still a long way from the valley floor. That’s when Luke pulled off his T-shirt.
“I wasn’t thinking strategy,” Luke said. “I was thinking, we’re not turning around yet.”
They fashioned a makeshift brace, Luke’s shirt wrapped tightly around Mark’s ankle, layered and knotted to restrict movement. It wasn’t medical-grade by any stretch, but it held enough to stabilize the joint so Mark could at least limp forward.
“It was either that or sit there and wait for help,” Jenna said. “And honestly, nobody wanted to sit there.”
So they kept going. Slowly. Painfully. But forward.
The climb toward Yosemite Falls is already demanding on a good day. It’s steep, exposed in sections, and relentless in others. With Mark limping and the improvised shirt brace tightening as the day wore on, the hike became something else entirely, not quite an adventure anymore, but not a retreat either.
“It stopped being about the waterfall,” Mark said. “It became about just putting one foot in front of the other until we couldn’t anymore.”
They eventually reached a viewpoint where the Upper Yosemite Fall came into full view. Even injured, Mark stopped. The water thundered off the cliff in a white sheet, crashing into wind before it ever reached the rocks below. Mist drifted across the granite like smoke.
“You don’t really argue with something that big,” Mark said. “You just shut up and look at it.”
They stayed there longer than planned. Partly because the view demanded it. Partly because nobody was eager to start the descent. Going down was worse. The descent from Yosemite Falls is notorious for being harder on knees than the climb is on lungs. Every step sends shock through joints that are already tired, and in Mark’s case, compromised entirely. The shirt brace helped, but only just. At one point, they slowed to near silence, spacing out steps, checking footing, trading water bottles like a quiet relay.
“I remember thinking, this is where you either panic or you get very calm very fast,” Jenna said. “We all got calm.”
They made it back to the valley floor just before sunset. Rangers checked Mark at the trailhead and confirmed a likely fracture, later treated at a nearby clinic. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to end the trip early. Looking back, none of them describe it as heroic.
“Stupid, maybe,” Luke said with a laugh. “But also one of those things you don’t forget. We saw something incredible, even if we were limping through part of it.”
Mark agrees.
“I wouldn’t recommend breaking your ankle as a travel strategy,” he said. “But I will say—there’s something about places like Yosemite that makes you keep going even when you probably shouldn’t. You just don’t want to miss it.”
And in a landscape carved by water over millions of years, with cliffs that dwarf human decisions and waterfalls that outlast every story told beneath them, the group learned something simple:
The mountain doesn’t care how you arrive. Only that you see it while you can.
