Hypothermia As The Dangerous Hiking Risk
I once did a random, unscientific survey. I questioned day hikers, backpackers, and visitors along the Appalachian
Trail what they considered the greatest hiking risk. Instantaneous responses were rapid and predictable: bears,
snakes, and strangers topped the list of what most thought were the greatest hiking risk. This was right even among some experienced trekkers. Yet the greatest hiking risk for people recreating in the outdoors is hypothermia – an answer that surprises many. Some are not even aware of the condition, which can arise without warning and quickly turn an outing into an ordeal.
My experience with hypothermia came during a long distance hike on the Appalachian Trail in the mountains of Maine in the magnificent, rugged Barren-Chairback Range.
I had been hiking nearly a week and it had rained every day. The trail became a river and it was impossible to keep my gear rain free. My pack was soaked through. Some food had become soggy and much of my clothing was damp despite having an adequate laying system and wearing a Gore-tex parka and wool sweater.
Camping proved a unique challenge. Placing my tent down quickly, I tossed the rain glide on top, then wrestled to set it up without getting water inside. During the few days I was fortunate enough to use traditional lean-to shelters, I found that wind would force the rain in sideways and sometimes the shelter roof would leak. My synthetic fill sleeping bag was not drenched but it made for a damp and clammy night of rest.
During an afternoon hiking the ridgeline, after a grueling climb, I found myself exhausted and soaked to the skin beneath my rain parka. Even with my wool sweater beneath I experienced mild shivering. The wind picked up and temperatures started dropping. A hiker’s “perfect storm” was forming.
I first realized something was incorrect when my thoughts became foggy and unclear. I started to undergo what I will call “disturbed time” – the sense of losing awareness of what time of day it was or how long I had been walking.
by Tim Hodges
A writer living in metro Boston. Countless interests; life won’t be long enough to explore them all.
