Sunday, December 02, 2007

On the Arctic blast

This is the point in the hike where I began to feel underdressed, and just a little bit frightened. Several minutes before, I had been standing in the Douglas Ski Bowl, just below treeline at an elevation of about 2,500 feet. I watched in stark wonder as the wind coursing at my back ripped streams of snow off the ridge and carried them hundreds of feet into the deep blue sky.

Just an hour earlier, a weather station at Sheep Mountain - a 4,000-foot peak less than five miles as the crow flies from where I stood - recorded 100 mph winds and a temperature of -8F. Standing among the last protective strand of trees in the Douglas Ski Bowl, I could almost understand what that kind of weather looked and felt like. An eerie howl echoed down the bare slopes and blasted the tops of trees until I was certain a few would tumble. Clouds of gritty, sand-like snow swirled over the top of the ice sheet I was standing on, old snowpack that had frozen to a solid sheen. The obscured sun cast a chocolate-colored glow on the mountainside, and I thought I should take a photograph. But as I removed my mittens to rifle around in my inside pockets for my camera, I could feel my fingers instantly stiffen, as though I had stuck them inside a flash freezer. I quickly pulled the mittens back on. I could not believe the windchill. The scene was more evocative of the moon than a place on Earth, and in that moment you really couldn't have paid me enough money to climb above treeline. Luckily, today I had the luxury of making that choice. So I took one last breath to end my hard climb, pulled my face mask on, and turned around to face the gushing wind.

When I left the house earlier, the thermometer read 12 degrees - down from the 17 it had been first thing in the morning and steadily dropping. But 12 degrees didn't seem too bad, and I dressed to hike hard uphill ... a single leg layer (snowboarding pants), liner socks, wool socks, winter boots, gaters, long-sleeved shirt, midweight polar fleece jacket, Gortex shell, mittens and a hat. The clothing served me well on the climb, but it became apparent fairly quickly that it wasn't enough to block the wind blast on the descent. Needles of icy air punctured my layers and scraped at my skin. I tried to bundle up as much as I could ... closing all my vents and maneuvering clothing around exposed patches of skin. Common sense told me I had a short walk home and I was plenty covered enough to avoid hypothermia, but as soon as the body's comfort level deteriorates, a fear factor sets in. I couldn't help but be afraid. So despite the frosty glare-ice condition of the trail, and despite the impact downhill running has on my knees, I began to jog at a fast clip. Gusts of wind stole the breath right out of my throat, but the jogging worked. I pretty quickly jolted by body temperature back up to a toasty 98.6, and I only slipped and fell once.

That seven-mile hike netted lots of valuable learning experiences. I had to stop and pee three times in two hours because I drank so much water, mostly for fear that my Camelbak hose was going to freeze up. Then, after I pulled on my face mask and ceased the endless sipping, the nozzle froze anyway, despite being wrapped in Neoprene and a plastic cover and stuffed inside my coat. I am still not good at doing things with mittens on, and the temptation to remove them was too strong. It is easy enough to bring fingers back to life after short freezing exposure, but definitely best to avoid it if I can, so I need to look for better ways to layer up my hands. And above all, I need to take windchill very seriously. It is not an arbitrary number on a weather report. Windchill is a very real temperature situation.

As far as camping in this weather ... I am now officially, genuinely frightened. I no longer have that self-assured swagger I carried with me during my ill-fated flat fest last week. I will have to talk to Geoff and see what he thinks about heading out tonight. Maybe there is a certain dignity to starting out in the backyard. Baby steps. And when I do set out into the wilderness to camp in this crap, I will be one humbling hiking experience wiser.


  1. Wow, sounds intense. As for your hand-layering, have you looked into waterproof gloves like seal-skinz as a liner? For instance:
    thick wool gloves
    a goretex mitt...
    or something along those lines.
    This would enable you to remove the gore and/or wool gloves but leave the fitted skinz on for those occasions when you need the dexterity. I work in a store that sells all of the above, so let me know if you're interested in brands or prices.

    You're a bad-ass!

  2. You pee more when you/it is cold out. It takes calories for your body to keep urine warm, so the bodies natural reaction is to get rid of it.

  3. I am only living in Nebraska, but here you can also get frozen stiff by the windchill. As you said it is not just a number when it is blowing right through you.
    I learnt to love everything that is wind-proof.
    I don't have any experience with "under-gloves", but dr.logan's method sounds good. You definitely don't want bare hands.
    I don't think camping out in the yard is a bad idea at all.
    Better safe them frozen:))

  4. The best way to avoid frozen Camelbak tubes/valves is to completely drain the tube after each sip. Just hold the bite valve high, pinch it, and in about 1 second gravity drains the tube. Beware if you bend down, the tube can fill with with fluid without you knowing it and quickly freeze. I ride and XC ski in New Hampshire and found this works better than anything else short of keeping the entire Camelbak with tube completely under your thermal layer.

  5. Dude, check this out:

    You'd be totally set-up for any winter camping! Got an extra $2,000? Xmas gift from mom and dad?

  6. Logan ...

    Sounds like a good system. What would that kind of a system cost? What would each set of gloves cost? Where could I order them online? Thanks.

    Doug ...

    I do make an effort to blow all the water out of the tube every time I drink out of it, but I think my nozzle may have a small leak or is somehow not airtight. I probably need a new one.

    Dan ... Backcountry snowboarding, eh? Beyond the winter camping, I imagine there are avalance beacons and some form of mountain-scaling death sticks involved (split boards, maybe?) For me, it be easier to take it one terrifying new task at a time.

  7. It might be worth your while to search the web a bit to find the best prices, but all of those items are available at for a total of around $100.

  8. In between my base layer and thermal layer I wear a small only holds about 2 liters, but it's a great backup.

    Your reports just flat out kick azz!!! Makes me want to get a Pug, my CrossCheck keeps telling me it needs more family members.


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