Cinema News: How this L.A. hiker walks without Achilles

March 19, 2026 | View in browser

By Jaclyn Cosgrove

Staff Writer

Most people think you can't walk without an Achilles tendon. Jo Giese begs to differ, especially since she hikes without one.

The L.A. hiker, journalist and community activist shares her journey of recovery in her new 240-page book, "You'll Never Walk Alone: A Hiker's Memoir of Adventure, Tragedy, and Defying the Odds" (Amplify Publishing). Giese outlines how one fall down the stairs led to eight surgeries and a relentless search for answers for how she could return to the trails she loved.

"The reason I wrote the book is to inspire others," Giese said, "that if you're given a grim diagnosis — and it certainly doesn't have to be your left Achilles — you do not have to accept it."

Like many of us, Giese's love of the outdoors started early. At age 5, she regularly took walks alone from her family's home on Lake Washington Boulevard in Seattle. Wearing a frilly pinafore dress and Mary Jane shoes, she'd walk a few blocks to Seward Park, pausing at the playground, where she'd persuade someone to push her on the swing. That wasn't the main goal of the trip, though.

"There is a path that leads up into the middle of the peninsula in this old growth forest. The canopies of the trees are two and three stories high. You're just walking in this green wonderland," Giese said. "And then after I finished walking all the way up as far as I wanted to go, I'd come back, and I'd walk back along [the route] and go home."

Giese has been a walker and hiker ever since, falling in love with waterfall hikes in particular. Giese and her husband, Ed, split time between their house near L.A. and a home in Bozeman, Mont. They hike in the Santa Monica Mountains when they are home in Southern California, but Giese isn't picky.

"I mainly hike anywhere I am," Giese said.

That includes an epic vacation "jumping out of helicopters in New Zealand ... in my late 60s," she said. But neither that adventure nor any other is how Giese got injured.

It was a rainy night in late November in L.A. Giese was upstairs when her friend Lana arrived, and not wanting her friend to get drenched, Giese raced down the stairs to open the front door.

"I miss the bottom two steps, and I literally go flying horizontally," Giese said. "My husband heard the crash. He came running, and I said, 'Go let in Lana. She's getting wet!'"

The trio immediately rushed to a nearby urgent care, where an X-ray showed a complete rupture of Giese's left Achilles tendon, a thick band of tissue that attaches a person's calf muscle to their heel bone.

Giese quickly called an orthopedist whom she'd seen for a simple knee procedure. He told her to come to his office the following day at 8 a.m. At the appointment, the doctor said, "'I can do this. I did [an]

Achilles repair 20 or 30 years ago. I can do this,'" Giese recalled.

In hindsight, it's clear she should have found someone who'd done an Achilles repair "20 or 30 minutes ago," she said. But the relief of not having to wait for surgery mixed with the shock of the moment made Giese and her husband impulsive.

"We were so frightened then — I'm in a wheelchair, and I'm all black and blue and bruised. I cannot walk. And there is someone in front of me who says he can do this," Giese said. "And that should be a lesson to anybody."

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After the surgery to reattach her Achilles, her doctor left for a two-week vacation while Giese was at home recuperating, studiously following the doctor's after-care guidelines. At her follow-up appointment, the nurse was unwrapping the bandage when the doctor observed, "That's necrotic." At the time, Giese didn't know that word essentially meant "dead."

The doctor immediately blamed her, saying it was from an ice burn. Both she and her husband knew that wasn't true. Another doctor would later suggest that the surgeon introduced the infection during that first surgery.

"I don't think I'd been so scared since my encounter with a bear," Giese wrote in her book.

Exactly 49 days from her accident, Giese was scheduled for another surgery (with a different doctor) to debride the wound and reattach her Achilles. It was supposed to take several hours. But less than an hour into surgery, her physician told Ed that Giese's Achilles had died. Soon, he asked Giese if she wanted to see what was left of the largest and strongest tendon in the body.

It looked like "a nasty little caterpillar that had turned fetal, curled in on itself, and died in a sea of black-and-green muck," Giese wrote.

Next, Giese needed a skin graft to cover the wound from the previous surgeries. After that, she returned to her doctor's office — 114 days after her accident — where her doctor removed the bandages from that third surgery and suggested something revelatory: that Giese should put her left foot down, putting her whole weight on it.

"My naked left foot — heel and five toes — made intimate contact with a floor, a cold linoleum floor, for the first time since this medical journey had begun four months earlier," Giese wrote. From here, she walked her first 20 steps.

But recovery would come in fits and spurts. About a month later, Giese wanted to attend a festival while in Austin, Texas, only to find the 10 blocks of booths and vendors too daunting. She went back to the hotel and screamed, "I cannot walk!"

From here, she demanded better care. Giese was tired of hearing medical professionals say they'd never encountered someone without an Achilles. She wanted to find someone who was experienced with complex muscle injuries.

Her search ended 274 days after her accident when she learned about the Center for Restorative Exercise in Northridge. Giese felt dubious about another physical therapist, though. She'd already been to three physical therapy clinics, and "those had been a waste of time, energy and hope," she wrote. But here, she was met with science and intentionality.

Taylor-Kevin Isaacs, the clinic's co-founder, told Giese that she had other muscles still intact that could help her walk again, and she luckily hadn't suffered any nerve damage, Giese wrote in the book. She spent the next 2½ years working with the center's staff, which included receiving acupuncture, shockwave therapy and scar tissue massage, which was so painful "you could have heard me screaming from where you are," Giese said.

After she completed care at the center, Isaacs nominated Giese for an award she won — an Oboz Footwear "Local Hero" award in 2024.

On the photo shoot for the award, Giese hiked with a photographer along a trail to Ousel Falls, a 50-foot waterfall in Big Sky, Mont.

It had been five years since her accident, and Giese thought back to a medical appointment in Montana the first summer after her fall. A physical therapist that Giese had been working with for about a month asked her to walk about 50 feet across the room.

"I hate to be a Debbie Downer," the therapist said, "but you're going to be compromised for the rest of your life."

At that point, Giese told me, all she had was hope — that she'd get better, that she'd walk again.

Here at the waterfall, Giese told the photographer they should take the steps down to the splashdown area for a better shot. She was ready, navigating black ice like she'd done many times before the accident.

"My thought was, 'If only that person could see me now,'" she said. "This person who said, 'You're going to be compromised the rest of your life, and you have to accept it.' I thought, 'No, I don't.'"

3 things to do

1. Have a home run of a hike in L.A.
The Dodgers Blue Hiking Crew will host an intermediate hike at 6:30 a.m. Sunday at Griffith Park. Participants are required to wear hiking or trail shoes or boots. The group's hikes are usually six miles and last about three hours. Register at facebook.com.

2. Clear the trail near Ojai
Los Padres Forest Assn. will host a workday from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday along the Potrero John Trail. Volunteers will meet at the Cozy Dell Trailhead before carpooling to the work site. The trail features jagged rock formations, a perennial creek and bigcone Douglas fir. Register at lpforest.salsalabs.org.

3. Wander through nature's wonders in Whittier
The California Native Plants Society San Gabriel Mountains chapter will host an easy hike from 9 to 11 a.m. Sunday through Sycamore Canyon in the Puente Hills. Cris Sarabia, conservation director for the Palos Verdes Peninsula Land Conservancy, will educate hikers on plants along the trail, both native and nonnative species. Participants should wear long pants to protect against poison oak. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Perhaps you're reading this from a dark room, blinds drawn, fan blowing, praying for a return to spring. That's definitely the scene where I'm writing to you! Whenever L.A. experiences an intense heat wave, I feel a little trapped. That's why this week I updated our list of the best hikes around L.A. that will offer you shade and, in most cases, streams and rivers where you can cool down.

Please take good care, though. Hike before 11 a.m., stay hydrated and only cross creeks when you feel safe doing so.

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

Our recent weather pattern — heavy rains followed by intense heat waves — has meant wildflower season came earlier than expected in several regions of Southern California. Times contributor Jessie Schiewe outlines in this guide the hiking areas where you'll most likely find recent blooms. For example, Towsley Canyon in Newhall, an area I have yet to visit, is likely a spot where you'll find bright orange poppies. Want to learn a quick hack that I use to better ensure I will see blooms? Search iNaturalist, a citizen science app, for the flower you'd like to see, using the filter option to only view posts from the last two weeks. If users have recently posted, for example, about spotting poppies, your chances are higher that you will too. Keep on reading The Wild, and I promise I will keep giving you my secrets of outdoors reporting!

For the Record: Last week's edition of The Wild said decentralized seed banks would be built by procuring seeds from L.A. County nature centers. A decentralized seed bank will be developed to procure seeds for and by L.A. County nature centers.

For more insider tips on Southern California's beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.