Posted by Mark Stahlke on January 29, 2012 at 1:07 PM
I had the pleasure of spending Saturday morning in the ER. Pleasure, you say? Well yes, there are worse things.
Friday I went to Cherry Creek State Park for a little photo excursion. I had planned to spend the day and ended up spending the night too.
To set the stage, Cherry Creek reservoir is a very popular park in the midst of the Denver metro area. It's surrounded by development and the park is also well developed - paved bike paths, a nice RV parking lot (they call it a campground, but I won't) and plenty of other facilities. And there are always people around.
I made a couple of exposures at the swim beach and then headed for the spillway. The spillway isn't the dam outlet, it's an overflow area that fills with water in the event of a flood. Think of an over-sized ditch, it might be 50 or 75 feet deep and 25 feet across at the bottom. I know of some interesting sandstone formations out that way.
I got close to my destination and then started down the embankment to cross the spillway. It was icy and I took a little tumble. I didn't think it was a big deal, mostly sliding down the hillside. I dusted myself off and continued on.
When I got to the sandstone it was mid-afternoon, the sun was still shining and I set my camera pack down to take a break. Then I woke up, lying on the ground, in the dark, frrreeezzzzing cold and shivering uncontrollably. I have no idea how that happened.
Unfortunately, the early symptoms of hypothermia include confusion, disorientation, poor coordination and poor judgment. I was definitely hypothermic at that point. As a result, it never occurred to me to build a fire even though the materials were close at hand. I didn't try to walk out in the dark because every movement triggered another bout of violent shivering.
So that's how I spent the rest of the night. I think I slept a little but it was mostly shivering. By the way, real shivering isn't the slight trembling most people have experienced. It was violent uncontrollable shaking, it was hard work. As of Sunday morning all my muscles are stiff and sore from shaking and shivering all night long.
When the sun peaked out Saturday morning I headed out. I think it took over an hour to go about half a mile. I got up out of the spillway, walked down the bike path for a few minutes and stopped for a break. Sitting down quickly turned in to lying down and then the paramedics arrived.
They whisked me off to the ER where I was treated with hot packs, warm blankets, a Bair Hugger and a warm IV drip. When my core temperature got up over 97F, the ER staff decided I was ready to go home. Oh, speaking of core temperatures, those fingertip sensors and ear thermometers don't cut it. You get to roll over to have you temperature checked. When you go into the hospital, you leave your dignity at the door. You can pick it up again on your way out.
Altogether, it was not a fun experience but it could have turned out a lot worse.
Lessons Learned
Always tell someone where you're going and when you'll be back. Even if you're just spending a day in the park. I didn't do that so no one was going to be looking for me. Maybe it's time to bite the bullet and get a cell phone, I must be the last holdout.
Be prepared. Even if you're just spending a day in the park. I was quite well dressed for the daytime temperatures in the 40s but not for Friday night's low of about 20. I always take a space blanket when I go backpacking. I'm sure I could easily fit it in my camera pack. That would have been a huge help. Some hand warmer packets would have been nice too.
Even a tame, safe environment like Cherry Creek State Park can turn dangerous suddenly.
If you're forced to spend the night out in the elements, try to avoid staying in low spots because cold damp air pools in them. Down in the spillway the temperature might have been 5 degrees lower.
If you go solo, don't get too far off the beaten path. There are a lot of people at Cherry Creek State Park but nobody ever goes out the spillway. I could have been there a very long time.
You can suffer hypothermia even when you're dry but it's worse if you're wet. Luckily I was perfectly dry. I can't imagine what would have happened if I had been wet. Err, scratch that, I can imagine.
It's hard to underestimate the confusion and disorientation of hypothermia. In retrospect, I'm baffled that I didn't build a fire. I had a lighter and there were plenty of dry leaves, sticks, and branches on the ground. I never thought of it at the time. My granola bars went untouched. Some calories to burn might have helped but I didn't think of that either.
Thanks for posting this Mark. Very glad that you've recovered without serious injury. I tend to wander without letting people know my whereabouts, but I don't usually know where I'm headed when I leave home. I do have a cell phone but often leave it in the car. Will carry it from now on.
Posted by Richard Ditch on January 29, 2012 at 3:15 PM
Thanks for posting this educational and sobering story.
I've told my own story here before so will just summarize: I got caught by fog I didn't expect on Mt Rainier while looking at ptarmigans on a small side trail and spent hours trying to find my way back to a good trail. I was very under-dressed and not prepared when everything turned to rain and soaked through my clothes. I learned a lot about being better prepared from that experience.
Sure glad you're ok - and we're all wiser now.
Sandy
Posted by Brian Gatlin on January 29, 2012 at 10:38 PM
Geez... glad you are ok.
I go through cycles of highs and lows in terms of preparation and precaution, and I have a pretty strong proclivity to wander off with a map, compass, and absolutely no idea where I'm headed (let alone anyone else knowing), with minimal supplies and an "I know where I am and what I'm doing" attitude, which is obviously not a great recipe for safety. This is a good reminder to reload the daypack with some of those necessities that I've been neglecting (lighter, for example), to restock that first aid kit (I used to have a whistle in there--what happened to that?), and to at least leave a general plan behind. And a good reminder for all of us to brush up on the 10 essentials, etc.
Thanks for posting this, Mark.
Posted by Peter Cross on January 30, 2012 at 12:37 AM
A cell phone is great to have along, IF you have coverage. Unfortunately many of us like to go places where we are out of range. I do geocaching as well and have a GPSr device which I will take along just in case. They always have reception, unless you're in a cave. When you start, you can mark that as a way point, so you can use your GPSr to get back. They've even got a unit now that you can get with a Delorme that allows you to transmit a distress message. It was hyped and advertised in Outdoor Photographer quite a bit last year.
Posted by Eva McDermott on January 30, 2012 at 1:05 AM
Glad you are OK Mark. Long time ago (1970's) we had a close call as well on Mt Washington, NH (home of the worst weather in the world). We met some hikers we did not know but agreed they could join us on what we thought would be a normal hike in early summer. Once above the tree line, we were hit with some really horrific weather, an ice storm to be exact in late June. Too far up to turn back, we trudged on. We were OK but one person in the party that joined us, started to get hypodermic since they were ill prepared. I have seen the violent shaking you mention and lack of coherent thought. It took a lot of energy to get them and us up to the summit since that was the only option. Once we finally got to the summit, the staff there at the weather station, assessed that one person was definitely suffering from hypothermia. I keep stressing the dangers of hypothermia to my two sons who now regularly hike the White Mountains in NH even in winter with -50F wind chill.
Posted by Jim DeWitt on January 30, 2012 at 12:41 PM
A frightening experience, Mark. I'm happy you came through not too much the worse for wear. Some thoughts:
(1) The technology for keeping others aware of where you are improves every day. Others have mentioned cell phones; there are sat phones and personal locator beacons and the SPOT, which cleverly reports to a satellite if you don't move for a time. A SPOT saved a buddy of mine. I should get a review of the SPOT written in the next month or so.
(2) The shivering which you experienced saved your life. Violent shivering is a mechanism the body uses in response to decline in the core temperature. Because it burns energy at a prodigious rate, our bodies can't sustain it long, but it's basically how small critters like birds survive sub-arctic winter nights. Eating the granola bars would have helped a lot. And perhaps prevented your second collapse.
(3) Your initial experience - when you essentially passed out after falling - is symptomatic of a blow to the head, or even a concussion. I'm not diagnosing you from a distance of 3,000 miles, but I hope your hospital exam included a check for trauma to you head. Your symptoms seem to me to point to something more than "just" hypothermia. You became hypothermic, but reading your narrative it seems like that was an outcome, not a cause.
Again, I'm very glad you are okay.
Hypothermia is insidious. It can fog you head before you realize it, and make it nearly impossible to recognize it is happening. Traveling with a buddy is the best protection.
Posted by Jim Erhardt on January 30, 2012 at 12:48 PM
Mark, I am glad to hear it turned out OK! Your post is appreciated and and is most certainly a useful example of the danger of hypothermia.
Posted by Mark Seaver on February 4, 2012 at 1:51 PM
Mark, glad you're here to tell the tale. In the wilderness survival world, the first rule of going out alone is to be EXTREMELY CAUTIOUS, because the slightest mistake (like your tumble) can quickly turn deadly. I don't carry as much gear as I should, but I think that being cautious helps to make up for the lack of survival gear.
I am happy to hear that you are OK! Hypothermia is called the 'silent killer'. Below is a list of signs and symptoms of hypothermia, and a link to page at the Mayo Clinic for first-aid treatment.
Symptoms
By Mayo Clinic staff
"Shivering is your body's automatic defense against cold temperature — an attempt to warm itself. Constant shivering is a key sign of hypothermia. Signs and symptoms of moderate to severe hypothermia include:
Shivering
Clumsiness or lack of coordination
Slurred speech or mumbling
Stumbling
Confusion or difficulty thinking
Poor decision making, such as trying to remove warm clothes
Drowsiness or very low energy
Apathy or lack of concern about one's condition
Progressive loss of consciousness
Weak pulse
Slow, shallow breathing
A person with hypothermia usually isn't aware of his or her condition, because the symptoms often begin gradually and because the confused thinking associated with hypothermia prevents self-awareness. "
An interesting thread. Since I live in a part of the country where cold weather is more imagined than real, the other end of the spectrum—heat stroke—could also be considered as a danger. All of the symptoms Preston quoted for hypothermia (except shivering and removal of warm clothing) apply to heat stroke. It is a silent and sneaky killer in the Southern outdoors, especially in the humid Southeast.
Hydration is part of the answer. Knowing when to work in heat and when not to is the other part.
I was involved with a timber inventory near Fargo, Georgia, in typical pine/palmetto country. It was in August or July, can't remember, But I had gotten two miles in on a cruise line and I knew I was in trouble. I did not have strength left to go back down my compass line through all the heavy palmetto, saw briers, etc. Fortunately the property line was painted and brushed out, so I went down it in stages, stopping to rest every few minutes, when I could find enough shade to rest under. I got back to the road about a half mile from my car and started back up the road toward it. I stopped at a power line to get a bearing check with my hand compass because I had been off a bit. I went on to my car, drove back to the motel I was staying at, filled a bathtub up with cold water and slept in it until late in the evening. I went to bed without eating. I got up the next morning, drove to the woods to finish the cruise. I had no compass! To this day, I have no clue as to where it went. It was attached to my vest with a lanyard so I wouldn't lose it, yet I somehow did.
Discussion
11 repliesFriday I went to Cherry Creek State Park for a little photo excursion. I had planned to spend the day and ended up spending the night too.
To set the stage, Cherry Creek reservoir is a very popular park in the midst of the Denver metro area. It's surrounded by development and the park is also well developed - paved bike paths, a nice RV parking lot (they call it a campground, but I won't) and plenty of other facilities. And there are always people around.
I made a couple of exposures at the swim beach and then headed for the spillway. The spillway isn't the dam outlet, it's an overflow area that fills with water in the event of a flood. Think of an over-sized ditch, it might be 50 or 75 feet deep and 25 feet across at the bottom. I know of some interesting sandstone formations out that way.
I got close to my destination and then started down the embankment to cross the spillway. It was icy and I took a little tumble. I didn't think it was a big deal, mostly sliding down the hillside. I dusted myself off and continued on.
When I got to the sandstone it was mid-afternoon, the sun was still shining and I set my camera pack down to take a break. Then I woke up, lying on the ground, in the dark, frrreeezzzzing cold and shivering uncontrollably. I have no idea how that happened.
Unfortunately, the early symptoms of hypothermia include confusion, disorientation, poor coordination and poor judgment. I was definitely hypothermic at that point. As a result, it never occurred to me to build a fire even though the materials were close at hand. I didn't try to walk out in the dark because every movement triggered another bout of violent shivering.
So that's how I spent the rest of the night. I think I slept a little but it was mostly shivering. By the way, real shivering isn't the slight trembling most people have experienced. It was violent uncontrollable shaking, it was hard work. As of Sunday morning all my muscles are stiff and sore from shaking and shivering all night long.
When the sun peaked out Saturday morning I headed out. I think it took over an hour to go about half a mile. I got up out of the spillway, walked down the bike path for a few minutes and stopped for a break. Sitting down quickly turned in to lying down and then the paramedics arrived.
They whisked me off to the ER where I was treated with hot packs, warm blankets, a Bair Hugger and a warm IV drip. When my core temperature got up over 97F, the ER staff decided I was ready to go home. Oh, speaking of core temperatures, those fingertip sensors and ear thermometers don't cut it. You get to roll over to have you temperature checked. When you go into the hospital, you leave your dignity at the door. You can pick it up again on your way out.
Altogether, it was not a fun experience but it could have turned out a lot worse.
Lessons Learned
Always tell someone where you're going and when you'll be back. Even if you're just spending a day in the park. I didn't do that so no one was going to be looking for me. Maybe it's time to bite the bullet and get a cell phone, I must be the last holdout.
Be prepared. Even if you're just spending a day in the park. I was quite well dressed for the daytime temperatures in the 40s but not for Friday night's low of about 20. I always take a space blanket when I go backpacking. I'm sure I could easily fit it in my camera pack. That would have been a huge help. Some hand warmer packets would have been nice too.
Even a tame, safe environment like Cherry Creek State Park can turn dangerous suddenly.
If you're forced to spend the night out in the elements, try to avoid staying in low spots because cold damp air pools in them. Down in the spillway the temperature might have been 5 degrees lower.
If you go solo, don't get too far off the beaten path. There are a lot of people at Cherry Creek State Park but nobody ever goes out the spillway. I could have been there a very long time.
You can suffer hypothermia even when you're dry but it's worse if you're wet. Luckily I was perfectly dry. I can't imagine what would have happened if I had been wet. Err, scratch that, I can imagine.
It's hard to underestimate the confusion and disorientation of hypothermia. In retrospect, I'm baffled that I didn't build a fire. I had a lighter and there were plenty of dry leaves, sticks, and branches on the ground. I never thought of it at the time. My granola bars went untouched. Some calories to burn might have helped but I didn't think of that either.
I've told my own story here before so will just summarize: I got caught by fog I didn't expect on Mt Rainier while looking at ptarmigans on a small side trail and spent hours trying to find my way back to a good trail. I was very under-dressed and not prepared when everything turned to rain and soaked through my clothes. I learned a lot about being better prepared from that experience.
Sandy
I go through cycles of highs and lows in terms of preparation and precaution, and I have a pretty strong proclivity to wander off with a map, compass, and absolutely no idea where I'm headed (let alone anyone else knowing), with minimal supplies and an "I know where I am and what I'm doing" attitude, which is obviously not a great recipe for safety. This is a good reminder to reload the daypack with some of those necessities that I've been neglecting (lighter, for example), to restock that first aid kit (I used to have a whistle in there--what happened to that?), and to at least leave a general plan behind. And a good reminder for all of us to brush up on the 10 essentials, etc.
Thanks for posting this, Mark.
(1) The technology for keeping others aware of where you are improves every day. Others have mentioned cell phones; there are sat phones and personal locator beacons and the SPOT, which cleverly reports to a satellite if you don't move for a time. A SPOT saved a buddy of mine. I should get a review of the SPOT written in the next month or so.
(2) The shivering which you experienced saved your life. Violent shivering is a mechanism the body uses in response to decline in the core temperature. Because it burns energy at a prodigious rate, our bodies can't sustain it long, but it's basically how small critters like birds survive sub-arctic winter nights. Eating the granola bars would have helped a lot. And perhaps prevented your second collapse.
(3) Your initial experience - when you essentially passed out after falling - is symptomatic of a blow to the head, or even a concussion. I'm not diagnosing you from a distance of 3,000 miles, but I hope your hospital exam included a check for trauma to you head. Your symptoms seem to me to point to something more than "just" hypothermia. You became hypothermic, but reading your narrative it seems like that was an outcome, not a cause.
Again, I'm very glad you are okay.
Hypothermia is insidious. It can fog you head before you realize it, and make it nearly impossible to recognize it is happening. Traveling with a buddy is the best protection.
Symptoms
By Mayo Clinic staff
"Shivering is your body's automatic defense against cold temperature — an attempt to warm itself. Constant shivering is a key sign of hypothermia. Signs and symptoms of moderate to severe hypothermia include:
Shivering
Clumsiness or lack of coordination
Slurred speech or mumbling
Stumbling
Confusion or difficulty thinking
Poor decision making, such as trying to remove warm clothes
Drowsiness or very low energy
Apathy or lack of concern about one's condition
Progressive loss of consciousness
Weak pulse
Slow, shallow breathing
A person with hypothermia usually isn't aware of his or her condition, because the symptoms often begin gradually and because the confused thinking associated with hypothermia prevents self-awareness. "
Treatment (By Mayo Clinic Staff). The first section, 'First-Aid Care', is the most relevant for us.
--P
Hydration is part of the answer. Knowing when to work in heat and when not to is the other part.
I was involved with a timber inventory near Fargo, Georgia, in typical pine/palmetto country. It was in August or July, can't remember, But I had gotten two miles in on a cruise line and I knew I was in trouble. I did not have strength left to go back down my compass line through all the heavy palmetto, saw briers, etc. Fortunately the property line was painted and brushed out, so I went down it in stages, stopping to rest every few minutes, when I could find enough shade to rest under. I got back to the road about a half mile from my car and started back up the road toward it. I stopped at a power line to get a bearing check with my hand compass because I had been off a bit. I went on to my car, drove back to the motel I was staying at, filled a bathtub up with cold water and slept in it until late in the evening. I went to bed without eating. I got up the next morning, drove to the woods to finish the cruise. I had no compass! To this day, I have no clue as to where it went. It was attached to my vest with a lanyard so I wouldn't lose it, yet I somehow did.