[at-l] RE: freezing one's cookies... Damascus, VA 05/18/02

[EricksonMR@navair.navy.mil (Erickson, Mike R)]

Great report! Good point of view also in that you carried all the right gear
and were pretty much prepared for anything and yet still had a 'sporting
time of it'.
I DO want to hear more about the night spent in the loft with your impromtu
trail buddies...
...*that* is the stuff of legends!

Mike; thinking of starting a new List...call it "UltraForum"




-----Original Message-----
From: Sloetoe [mailto:sloetoe@yahoo.com]
Sent: Thursday, November 21, 2002 4:48 PM
To: ultra@listserv.dartmouth.edu
Cc: at-l@backcountry.net
Subject: freezing one's cookies... Damascus, VA 05/18/02


OK, a little late for a run report but... here's my contribution
to the "Hypothermia Made Easy" thread.

It was a dark and stormy night.... but wait...
PROLOGUE:
The "Damascus Red-Eye" 50 mile run of the Appalachian Trail over
Mount Rogers, Grayson Highlands, Elk Garden, WhiteTop, Buzzard
Rock, etc..., was originally to take place starting around
midnight on Friday night May 17th and finish at noon on Saturday
wayyyyyy down in the town of Damascus, during their annual Trail
Days celebration. Departure times were racheted back to
accomodate runner(s) training for the ill-fated 2002 Hardrock,
so that they gained more dark-running hours: 20:00 Hours leave
time from the Troutdale road crossing. I was there on time, but
no one else was -- and no note or other indication of their
passing did I see. Turned out they'd left at 17:00 hours, and
took the party with 'em!
Tut-Tut! I'm prepared!
Off I go! Damascus, Ho!

(So in a well-fitted running pack, I have
- 100wt. fleece vest
- Gore-Tex mountain shell [circa 1979... uh-ohhhh.]
- thin supplex-type cap w/brim
- lycra beenie-thing
- mylar blankie courtesy of the 1998 NYC Marathon [Thank you,
  Ready!]
- 20 oz bottle
- Princeton Tec "Impact" 3 LED/4AA (lithium) waterproof light
- neato Lowe Alpine fleece gloves [courtesy of my resigned
  subscription to Trail Runner mag. Know the gloves?]
- 2 kitchen-sized trash bags
- 2 CLIP2 maltodextrin mixes
- 4-5? Power Bars
- 3-4 Power Gels
- Succeed electrolyte caps, 8hr naproxin sodium, asthma puffer
- 2-3oz first aid kit (a few band aids, small neosporin, etc.)

READER'S DIGEST Version:
(As best my memory recalls at this point)
20:00 I left the first highway, upward bound.

21:00 Flashlight comes out of pack.

22:00 Rain starts for real, as I'm coming out on the exposed
ridges near The Scales. Winds gust, but no big deal. I can't
see, though, due to rain on glasses. Off comes lycra beenie, on
goes brimmed hat. Rain no problem.

23:30 Rain now comes sideways due to wind; comes under hat brim.
Can't see; trail runs between frequent forest breaks and exposed
meadows/ridges; treadway full of off-kilter rocks to trip over;
must slow. Removing glasses (minor perscription) improves things
vision-wise, safety-wise, pace-wise.

00:30 Slowed WAY down; parka shell failed and leaking; running
tights and long-sleeve coolmax top soaked; vest, gloves, and
beenie are on, hat over beenie, parka hood over hat. Quicker
pace slowed again by fog: can't see but 30-40 feet; blazing
"uneven" and indistinct; am forced to retrace the bleak Massey
Gap/Wilburn Ridge->southbound stretch three times to find AT in
fence break. No speed and pervading wetness (and no caffiene
[planning mistake] means pace is insufficient to maintain
warmth. I am in trouble. Thinking is clear, but terribly slow.
The world swirls grey inside the Impact's blue tube of light.
The scene is surreal -- green/yellow grass swept by waves of
20-30mph wind, blotches of sleet sailing by, blue-green lichens
aglow and warning of wet steely gray rock. And the wind: I am
now immersed in an angry wind -- constant buffeting and roaring
and changes of direction. I am a drunken man stumbling down the
street, except there is no lane or streetlight. Just me and
noise; me and maelstrom. And insufficient food. -- I am
freezing. But to stop is to freeze. But to go on is stupid.

I am now barely making a fast walk. And there are enough
crossing paths in the treadway to confuse me. I count it a
victory when I can perceive a trail blaze that clearly marks me
as 'on route'. I eye the nooks and crannies in the moonscape
with envy [toward whom???], looking for a hole big enough to
crash in. I am in "escape mode."

02:00 I arrive at Thomas Knob Shelter to find it empty, but with
a couple of food bags hung from one corner. I walk around the
shelter with the flashlight shining out, but perceive no sign of
life in the 30' hemisphere I can illuminate. Motion is my
savior, yet my hands are 'thick' with cold, and I know that if I
fall and am injured, I could be in deep [deeper] trouble. But
staying in the shelter seems suicidal: if I don't keep moving, I
will for *sure* freeze -- I find I have to prance at the edge of
the shelter, just out of the rain, to work up the warmth to step
back into the driving, pelting sleet to pee. My hands, though
strangely functional, have little feeling. YUCK. I am shivering
magNIFicently. Uncontrollably. Yuck AGAIN.

Motion is surely my savior, but the sleeting rain is ROBBING me
of heat, and the fog and rain are DENYING me forward motion. I
notice that in my brief break to down a PowerBar, I have gotten
no colder in not moving: perhaps getting out of the thieving
wind and rain is the better idea.

Although the front of the leanto faces nearly head-on into the
wind, I notice in amazement that the shelter floor remains dry.
>From the pack I pull water (which I force down, although I've
not been exactly *thirsty* for a while), the mylar [Thank Ready
for That'un!] and the two garbage bags. I doff my shoes [brand
new NB805's] and set them at an angle to drain a pretty puddle
on the floor -- suddenly wildly concerned that it might drain on
me in the darkness and... get me WET??? Ha! I stand and squeegie
my tights, and make a new puddle with the effort. The wind roars
20 feet in front of me, uncaring.

Feet in a garbage bag, a garbage bag under my torso, and the
pack under my head, I am arranging the noisy-crunchy mylar
around my legs and shoulders when a clear female voice announces
above my head "You know, it's a lot warmer up here."

Huh? Turns out that Thomas Knob Shelter has a sleeping loft
across the whole top of it. Two hikers were up there, asleep. I
accept the invitation, and pick up my "kit" and climb up the
ladder shadowed in the leanto corner. As I'm just about settled
down, the gal askes "Where were you camped?" "Nowheres," I
answered, "I'm running overnight into Damascus, and I can't move
fast enough to keep warm." No response. I wanted to explain
about the dark and the rain and the glasses and the hat and the
wind and the fog and the failed parka and such, but I wanted to
wait till I stopped shivering underneath the noisy mylar that so
loudly announced each shiver. ........

06:00 It's still pitch dark in the loft, but I know that
somewhere above the noise of the storm is a peaceful sunrise.
I'm shivering still, but feel a ferocious need to press on.
Perhaps I don't want to have my shelter mates set eyes on me in
daylight; fingers pointing.... "J'Accuse!!!" I lite out quickly
into the lifting darkness.

06:30 Light is replaced in backpack. I am not warm, but I am no
colder. I am now running in the lifting fog; I can see 100' with
regularity. Sometimes.

07:30??? I pass Buzzard Rock and start down into the hardwoods,
leaving the exposed highlands finally behind. I should warm with
each loss of altitude, and am warmed by the thought.

EPILOGUE:
I hit Damascus (I think) about noon or after, having spent about
4 hours shivering at Thomas Knob. 36 hours later, I warm up. My
food, budgeted for 10-12 hours, ran ... thin at the end,
*really* slowing me up more. I was a basket-case that day......

THINGS I MISSED: caffiene and food for delayed passage. Also, no
excuses, I should have had a newer shell... a big surprise and
disappointment to find my ol' reliable failed.

THINGS I HIT: had I kept dry, the clothing and the emergency
gear were quite versatile and well-suited. Great flashlight. And
the only things that didn't ache when I hit the bottom were my
feet: LOVE those NB805s.

COULD I HAVE *DIED* OUT THERE? I had a number of people tell me
how nasty the storm was down in Damascus, blowing and cold.
Knowing how nasty things can get up on Rogers and the Highlands
and such, they said many a prayer for me overnight. I am
grateful. But I kept my head, too, and having been in somewhat
similar situations (in one degree or another) really helps one
not loose their cool. That said, I would not discount that, if
someone suffered a shock-inducing trauma, or became lost and
compounded it by continuing to move, or if the temperature had
dropped another 5-10 degrees (a big deal, at that point), there
might be a shorter, sadder tale to tell. That's about all I'll
say.

Sloetoe

=====
Spatior! Nitor! Nitor! Tempero!
   Pro Pondera Et Meliora.

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