Heat Exhaustion
Most walkers are afraid of the cold, but heat can be dangerous too. The opposite of hypothermia, heat exhaustion occurs when the body cannot cool itself sufficiently. Typical symptoms are muscle cramps, nausea, and vomiting. Because the body uses perspiration for cooling, the main cause of heat exhaustion is dehydration and electrolyte depletion—if you are severely dehydrated, you cannot sweat.
A suspension bridge. It’s always worth detouring to a bridge instead of risking a ford.
A simple pole bridge. Edge across slowly and watch for wet, slippery sections.
Plank bridges can be very slippery when wet.
The main way to prevent heat exhaustion is to drink plenty of water, more than you think you need on hot days. Don’t neglect eating as well; water alone won’t replace the salts lost when you sweat, so you could still become ill. If you start showing symptoms, stop and rest somewhere shady—exercise produces heat. If you feel dizzy or weak, lie down out of direct sunlight and drink water copiously. In very hot weather, travel in the early morning and the late afternoon and take a midday siesta in the shade to minimize the chance of heat exhaustion. A sun hat or umbrella also helps.
Fording Rivers and Streams
Unbridged rivers and streams can present major hazards. Water is more powerful than many people think, and hikers are drowned every year fording what may look like relatively placid streams. If you don’t think you can cross safely, don’t try.
If no logs or boulders present a crossing, wading a stream or river may be the only option. Whether you prospect upstream or downstream for a potential ford depends on the terrain. If you can view the river from a high point, you may be able to see a suitable ford. Otherwise, check the map for wide areas where the river channels may be braided. Several shallow channels are easier to cross than one deep one, and wide sections are usually shallower than narrow ones. Check the map for bridges, too—many years ago, after torrential rain had turned even the smallest streams into raging torrents, two companions and I walked many extra miles upstream and camped far from where we’d intended because we didn’t notice on the map that there was a bridge not far downstream of where we were.
A river in spate. Crossing this would be dangerous and foolhardy. Search for an alternative route or turn back.
Crossing a small stream. The main aim here is to keep your feet dry.
On a weeklong trip during the height of the spring snowmelt in Iceland, my route was almost totally determined by which rivers I could cross and which I couldn’t (which was most of them). During my walk through the northern Canadian Rockies, I spent many hours searching for safe fords across the many big rivers there.
In the end, only experience can tell you whether it’s possible to cross. If you decide fording is feasible, study your crossing point carefully before plunging in. In particular, check that the far side isn’t deeper or the bank undercut. Then cross carefully and slowly with your hipbelt undone so that you can jettison your pack if you’re washed away. If this does happen, try to hang on to the pack by a shoulder strap—it will give extra buoyancy, and you’ll need it and its contents later. You should cross at an angle facing upstream so the current won’t make your knees buckle. Feel ahead with your leading foot, but don’t commit your weight to it until the riverbed beneath it feels secure. One of your trekking poles or a stout stick is essential in rough water. If the water is fast flowing and starts to boil up much above your knees, turn back—it could easily knock you over, and being swept down a boulder-littered stream is not good for your health.
Even small streams can become raging torrents during snowmelt or after heavy rain and be unsafe to cross. If you can’t find a safe crossing point, you can camp on the bank and wait for the water to subside or look for an alternative route.
If I’m wearing sandals, wet feet are no problem. For shallow crossings, I don’t even break my stride. If I’m wearing shoes or boots and carrying sandals, I change into the sandals unless my footwear is already wet. If there are lots of fords, I keep the sandals on, even in cold weather, so I have dry shoes for campwear. If I can see that the river bottom is flat and sandy or gravely rather than rocky, I sometimes cross wearing just a pair of dirty socks.
Mountain water is very cold, and you’ll often reach the far side feeling shivery. I find that the best way to warm up is by gulping down some carbohydrates like trail mix or candy, then hiking hard and fast. The best clothes for fording are shorts and a warm top. Long pants can drag in the water and aren’t very warm when sodden.
Groups can use various techniques to make fords safer. Three people can cross in a stable tripod formation, or a group can line up along a pole held at chest level. In the past, I’ve used a rope to belay forders, but the newer thinking is that roped crossings are dangerous—there’s too great a chance of someone’s slipping and being trapped underwater by the rope.
I have never swum across a river—the water in the areas I frequent is generally too cold, too fast, and too boulder strewn for this to be practical. Bigger, warmer, slower rivers can be swum, however.
If you can’t find a safe crossing, you have one final option before you turn back—wait. In areas where mountain streams are rain fed, they recede quickly once the rain stops; a raging torrent can turn into a docile trickle in a matter of hours. (And placid streams can swell just as quickly, so you should camp after you’ve crossed a river, or you may wake to a nasty shock.) Glacier- and snow-fed rivers are at their lowest at dawn. If you camp on the near side, you may be able to cross in the morning. Meltwater streams are the worst to ford because you can’t see the bottom through the swirling silt.
Good fording technique.
Poisonous Plants
There are a few poisonous plants that can harm you by external contact. One is the stinging nettle, which has a sharp but transitory sting. Although painful, it’s nothing to worry about unless you dive naked into a clump. At low elevations you may find the nastier poison oak, poison ivy, and poison sumac. These closely related shrubs can cause severe allergic reactions, raising rashes and blisters in many people. They have leaves in groups of three that often hang across trails at knee height. If you brush against this stuff, immediately wash the affected area well with water (soap isn’t required), if you have any, since the oil that causes the problems is inactivated by water. The oil is also tenacious and long-lived, so also wash any clothing or equipment that has come into contact with the plants. If you still start to itch after washing the affected area, calamine lotion and cool saltwater compresses can help. Some cortisone creams can help with red and itchy rashes where no blisters have yet developed, as well as later when the rash has healed and is scaly yet still itchy.
A final plant to watch out for is devil’s club, whose stems are covered with razor-sharp spines that can break off and remain in the wound, causing inflammation. It’s found in montane forests in the Cascades and British Columbia. I came across large stands of this head-high, large-leafed shrub mixed in with equally tall stinging nettles in the Canadian Rockies, just south of the Peace River. I normally try to avoid any unnecessary damage to plants, but on this occasion I used my staff to beat my way through the overhanging foliage.
Clockwise from top left: Stinging nettle (Urtica dioica), devil’s club (Oplopanax horridus), poison ivy, poison sumac, and poison oak.
When hiking in rattlesnake or scorpion country, be wary around bushes and rock piles.
Many agencies, park offices, Web sites, and guidebooks provide identification information; you may also find warning notices at trailheads. If you rely on plants for food, you need to be very sure you know what you’re eating, especially with fungi. There are numerous guides.
DEALING WITH ANIMALS
Encountering animals in the wilderness, even potentially hazardous ones, is not in itself a cause for alarm, though some walkers act as if it were. Observing wildlife at close quarters is one of the joys and privileges of wilderness wandering, something to be
wished for and remembered long afterward.
You are the intruder in the animals’ world, so don’t approach closely or disturb them, for their sake and for your safety. When you do come across animals unexpectedly and at close quarters, move away slowly and quietly and cause as little disturbance as possible. With most animals you need fear attack only if you startle a mother with young, and even then, as long as you back off quickly, the chances are good that nothing will happen.
Some animals pose more of a threat and need special attention, however. (Insects, of course, are also animals, and are the ones most likely to be a threat—to your sanity if not your physical health. The items and techniques needed for keeping them at bay were discussed in Chapter 8.)
Snakes
The serpent is probably more feared than any other animal, yet most species are harmless, and the chances of being bitten by one are remote. In the major North American wilderness areas there are four species of poisonous snakes—the coral snake, rattlesnake, copperhead, and water moccasin (also called a cottonmouth). Not all areas have them. They are rarely found above timberline or in Alaska and Maine. Their venom is unlikely to seriously harm fit, healthy persons. In many parts of South America, Asia, Africa, and Australia, much more deadly species exist, and anyone intending to hike there should obtain relevant advice.
Snakebites rarely occur above the ankle, so wearing boots and thick socks in snake country minimizes the chances of being bitten. Snakes will do everything possible to stay out of your way; the vibrations from your feet are usually enough to send them slithering off before you even see them. However, it’s wise to be cautious around bushes and rock piles in snake country—there may be a snake sheltering there. At a snake-country campsite, do not pad around at night barefoot or in sandals or light shoes without checking the ground first.
Rattlesnakes seem to strike more fear into people than other snakes do, though I don’t understand why. By rattling, at least they warn you of their presence so you can avoid them.
While walking in the cool of the night can be a way to avoid the heat in deserts, it’s not a good way to avoid snakes. On the Pacific Crest Trail, I hiked through the Mojave Desert with three other backpackers. Battered by the heat of the day, we decided to take advantage of a full moon and hike at night. However, we quickly found that rattlesnakes, which abound in the Mojave, come out at night, and we couldn’t distinguish them from sticks and other debris. Several times we stopped and cast around anxiously with our flashlights for the source of a loud rattle. Once we found a snake, a tiny sidewinder, between someone’s feet. We didn’t hike at night again.
On that trip, I carried in my shorts pocket a snakebite kit with implements for cutting and sucking the wound. Such kits are frowned on now as being dangerous. Using them could easily cause more harm than the bite itself. The Sawyer Extractor, a suction device that doesn’t require cutting the wound, can be used. Otherwise wash the bite with soap and water, then bandage it and keep the limb hanging down to minimize the chance that venom will enter the bloodstream. The victim should stay still and rest while someone goes for assistance. If you’re on your own, you may have to sit out two days of feeling unbelievably awful unless you’re close enough to habitation or a road to walk to aid quickly. That’s if the bite contained any venom anyway—about 25 percent don’t.
For those who want to know more about snakebite treatment, I recommend Medicine for Mountaineering, edited by James Wilkerson.
Bears
In many mountain and wilderness areas, black bears and grizzly bears roam, powerful and independent. Knowing they’re out there gives an edge to your walking; you know you’re in real wilderness if bears are around. In many areas though, bears no longer roam. Grizzlies in particular have been exterminated in most of the lower states; there are now just tiny numbers in small parts of Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming (mainly in Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks). They’re found in any numbers only in Alaska and western Canada (the Yukon, Northwest Territories, British Columbia, and western Alberta). I like knowing they’re there, lords of the forests and mountains, as they have been for millennia.
The chances of seeing a bear, let alone being attacked or injured by one, are remote. In Yellowstone National Park, home to both grizzly and black bears, there were 47 million visitors between 1980 and 1997. Just twenty-three of them were injured by bears. That makes the odds on being injured by a bear in Yellowstone about 1 in 2.1 million. You are at far greater risk from drowning, falling, or vehicle accidents. In about ten thousand miles of walking in bear country, most of it alone, I’ve seen only eighteen black bears and three grizzlies, and none has threatened me—most have run away.
However, you should minimize your chances of encountering a bear. Dave Smith’s Backcountry Bear Basics is recommended reading for anyone venturing into bear country. I also recommend Doug Peacock’s Grizzly Years, an excellent personal account of two decades of studying grizzlies while living among them.
When you’re on the move, you want bears to know you’re there so they’ll give you a wide berth. Most of the time, their acute senses of smell and hearing will alert them to your presence long before you’re aware of them. However, a wind blowing in your face, a noisy stream, or thick brush can all mask your signals. In these circumstances, make a noise to let any bears know you’re around. Many people wear small bells on their packs for this purpose, but these aren’t really loud enough, and they tinkle annoyingly even when you don’t need them, scaring away other wildlife. It’s better to shout or sing and clap your hands in thick brush or when you can’t see far and the wind is in your face. Don’t forget to use your eyes—I once came across a hiker sitting on a log eating his lunch, all the while calling out to warn bears he was there. I walked toward him for several minutes without his seeing me and finally startled him by calling out a greeting when I was a few steps away.
In open terrain and on trails, scan ahead for bears. A pair of binoculars helps greatly with this. They’ll help you determine if that tree stump ahead is actually a grizzly sitting by the trail. Look for evidence of bears, too—paw prints and scat (dung) are obvious signs, but also look for scratch marks on trees and mounds of freshly dug earth in alpine meadows where grizzlies have been digging for rodents.
If you see a bear before it sees you, detour away from it quietly and quickly. Be particularly wary of female grizzlies with cubs—70 percent of known attacks are by mothers defending their young. If the bear is aware of you, move away from it, perhaps waving your arms or talking to help it identify what you are. Don’t stare at it or act aggressively; you don’t want to be seen as a threat. The only grizzly I’ve met at fairly close quarters moved slowly away from me once I’d made a noise and let it know I was there. The nearest it came was about fifty yards.
Be alert for signs of bears, which may appear on the ground as prints, droppings, or diggings, and on tree trunks as parallel scratches as high as 6 feet above the ground.
Many people suggest climbing a tree if a bear charges you. Dave Smith thinks this is a bad idea, since the bear will usually catch you and pull you down. (One bear-country saying is that the way to tell the difference between black bears and grizzly bears is to climb a tree—black bears will climb up after you, grizzlies will knock the tree down.)
Very occasionally, a bear will charge. Advice is mixed regarding what to do if one does. Don’t run—bears are much faster than you are. Dropping an object, such as a camera or an item of clothing, may distract it and allow you to escape. Don’t drop your pack—if the bear eats your food, it may learn to regard future walkers as food sources. Your pack will also help protect your body if the bear does attack. If dropping something doesn’t work, your choices are trying to frighten the bear by yelling, banging objects together (metal on metal may be effective), backing away slowly, or standing your ground while acting non-threatening by talking quietly to the bear (the option Dave Smith advises). If the bear actually attacks you (many charges don’t result in ph
ysical contact), you can play dead or fight back. The best position for the first is lying on your front with your legs slightly apart, your elbows tucked in, and your hands protecting your neck so the bear can’t easily roll you over. Keep your pack on to protect your back and neck. If the bear doesn’t leave you alone fairly quickly when you play dead, fight back instead, since it may view you as prey.
You could also use one of the powerful pepper sprays such as Counter Assault. This is a strong version of cayenne pepper–based antidog sprays that has been shown to repel bears both in the wild and in controlled tests. In one case a grizzly that had already knocked a man down and was biting him ran off when sprayed in the face. The manufacturer stresses that it isn’t a substitute for knowing about bear behavior and taking the usual precautions, but—the advertising says—“it’s better than no protection at all.” It doesn’t guarantee protection, however, and isn’t a reason to take risks or feel overconfident. Pepper spray is nontoxic (the bears aren’t harmed) and comes in an 8-ounce canister. There’s also a holster for carrying it on your belt. I’ve never carried it, though I might if I went hiking in Alaska again.
Bear-country ranger stations and information offices have up-to-date reports on areas that bears are using and whether any have caused trouble. Trails and backcountry campsites may be closed if necessary. For your own safety and that of the bears, obey any regulations that are in force.
Chris Townsend Page 57
