The Magazine of The Sierra Club
Hail and Hypothermia at 11,000 Feet
When my buddies collected me for our ride near Durango, Colorado, I was stuffing a jacket and extra food into my saddlebag. "No Need," they said. "This is going to be a fast loop." So I emptied it all back onto the kitchen table. I tried not to think about that later.
The marble-size hail hit at 11,000 feet, the midpoint of our loop, with 25 miles still to go. Then it turned to icy rain.
Our shivering became a full-body shaking so hard we could barely steer. Soon our hands were too cold to operate the brake leers. Someone called for a stop.
We all sat. I felt the cold slip away. I was calmer, sleepy. "Someone will find us," I thought. I imagined myself curled up in the pine needles. A dim realization of how dangerous that would be got me to my feet.
I was so out of it that I almost didn't notice the pickup parked at the Chapman Lake overlook; it took us to the edge of town. Soon I was in a steaming shower, peeling muddy clothing from my cadaverous body. Ever since, I've been the rider with too much clothing and food bulging from my jersey pockets.
ASK THE EXPERT Amy Verbeten is the director of Friends of the Teton River and a veteran instructor in backcountry skills and first aid.
"Hypothermia can strike in seasons when you least expect it. Dolphin and his buddies did the right thing by getting out of the weather, but not by huddling on the cold ground. They should have kept moving by doing jumping jacks, knee bends, a silly dance--whatever might move large muscle groups and generate heat. In situations like this, mildly hypothermic folks can rewarm themselves by putting on a dry, lightly insulated wind layer and eating a high-calorie energy bar while moving."
