The powdery film on the bark of aspen trees serves as a natural sunscreen; in a pinch, it can also work as a very basic sunblock for human skin.
Lower elevations find other deciduous trees: poplar, cottonwood, and balsam trees are common near rivers and lakes. Because of their fibrous makeup, these trees split poorly, rot easily, and are ill-suited for burning. If you are hunting for campfire wood, stick with the sappy (but burnable) evergreen trees or dried aspen logs.
All Hail Pando, King of All Living Things!
Pando is a fitting name for a great king; wouldn’t you agree? Pando (Latin for “I spread”) refers to an enormous quaking aspen colony located near Fish Lake in the Wasatch Range in southern Utah. Formed from a single seed, the “trembling giant” encompasses more than 107 acres and is estimated to be at least 80,000 years old. The trees that make up Pando are genetic clones that share a common, archaic network of roots. Trees that sprout from this matrix live approximately 140 years and are replaced by fresh saplings on a regular basis. Pando supports more than 40,000 trees!
Pando is considered to be a single organism; think of the individual trees that grow from the shared roots as being like hairs on a human head. They live, grow, and die—with the genesis of new trees from a single living source. While it is impossible to weigh such a massive growth, biologists say that Pando makes a great case for the heaviest living thing on Earth (in direct competition with the fabled redwood trees in California). Ideal climate conditions have helped the colony live for so long. Some biologists think Pando may be closer to a million years old. To put it into human terms: Modern man (Homo sapiens) came onto the scene about 40,000 years ago and migrated to the Americas about 10,000 years ago.
Pando’s survival strategies have endured fire, ice, wind, and heat. Assuming water levels in Utah do not drastically change, Pando’s reign could carry on for thousands of more years. Long live the king!
Safety in the Mountains
Altitude: This Is Your Brain on Thin Air; Any Questions?
Note: The following overview is not a substitute for attaining a deeper knowledge of altitude-related symptoms. Wilderness first-aid courses are great opportunities to learn more and are advised for those spending a great deal of time at altitude. Suggested reading includes Altitude Illness: Prevention and Treatment by Stephen Bezruchka, M.D., and Going Higher by Charles Houston, M.D., both published by The Mountaineers Books.
We humans have grown rather fond of oxygen. The air we breathe enables our intricate respiratory systems to relay oxygen to the vital organs of our bodies. At altitude, decreased oxygen levels cause the body to alter how it utilizes the invaluable gas. The series of adaptations that occur at high elevations are known as acclimatization. Simply put, acclimatizing allows your body to properly function when the concentration of oxygen in the air is reduced.
First off, it’s important to know what happens to the air at altitude. “Thin air” is a layman’s term used to describe the paucity of oxygen at higher elevations, due to lower atmospheric pressure. At sea level, oxygen levels are “compressed” by the weight of the atmosphere; therefore, at sea level, oxygen molecules are abundant. As you ascend higher, the weight of the atmosphere lessens, meaning the particles of air have more space to move around. As a result, less dense air will contain smaller concentrations of oxygen. Air circulating the summit of Colorado’s highest peaks, 14,000 feet above sea level, will contain roughly one third of the oxygen found in the air at sea level.
People used to living at sea level begin to feel the effects of altitude around 5,000 feet. Journeys to higher elevations can provoke severe changes; life-threatening ailments associated with altitude have occurred as low as 8,000 feet. Knowing what is happening to your body is key to functioning well at altitude. A little understanding will aid in making each trip to altitude an enjoyable one. The most important thing to remember: Ascending slowly and avoiding overexertion are vital in adapting to altitude. And if you begin to feel bad—very bad—descent is the smartest decision and the easiest way to feel better.
How Our Bodies Adapt to Altitude
Our body has three major involuntary systems that change to cope with altitude, though how proficiently it does so is different for each individual. Rate of respiration, heart rate, and increased red blood cell production all work to bring oxygen levels to adequate levels when a person is confronted with decreased oxygen. Most obvious to the hiker is an increased rate of respiration. By breathing faster (even at rest), we are able to coax more oxygen out of the air. When respiration takes priority, simple tasks such as drinking from a water bottle or holding a conversation can leave one winded. Above 13,000 feet, it is normal to rest and catch your breath every few steps.
One’s heart rate increases to efficiently pump each oxygen-reduced packet of blood through the body. Anyone who has felt the curious heart-pounding result from simple tasks at altitude knows that it doesn’t take much to trigger the familiar throbbing sensation in the chest. Opening the wrapper of a candy bar or fighting with the stubborn cap on summit register tubes can leave one wheezing!
Red blood cell production is a much slower process than respiration and heart rate, taking approximately a month to fully adapt at a given altitude. For those spending weeks or months at altitude, this is the final step to being fully comfortable at high elevations. The more red blood cells present in the body, the more carriers there are for oxygen. Blood initially gets thicker at elevation due to dehydration. The blood remains thick as the body acclimates to the increased presence of red blood cells.
Other bodily functions are affected by these primary changes in body rhythms. Diuresis is inevitable; as the body speeds up, it needs to expel more extraneous fluid. Peeing a lot is not necessarily a bad thing. Urine color is a good indicator of hydration. Clear urine is a sign of proper hydration, while thicker yellow or foul-smelling urine is an indication that the body needs more water/fluids. It can be annoying if you’re trying to get a good night’s sleep, but not peeing a lot at altitude can be a sign that your body is not making the proper adjustments. (Don’t be alarmed; just pay attention if this happens.)
Digestion can also be affected by altitude, as there is often not enough oxygenated blood in the digestive tract to break down fatty foods. As a result, appetites may diminish (though psychological factors may play a part in this too). Sour or acidic stomachs are common at altitude; regular antacids are helpful in making your tummy feel better. Increased flatulence is a comical (if you’re a guy) side effect, though more discreet individuals (usually women) can find this a bit embarrassing. Hey, you’re up in the mountains; let it rip! Farting can relieve pressure and actually make you feel better, so don’t hold it in!
Along with digestion, you may need to go number two more than you would at home. This is normal; as things speed up in your body, so will your metabolism. Having to poop more is natural. Cheeky National Outdoors Leadership School (NOLS) instructors have dubbed the telltale light-brown piles of unacclimated hikers “NOLS gold.” Lighter-colored feces are a result of nutrients passing through the body too quickly to be fully absorbed. A yucky side effect is the appeal of such nutrient rich piles to animals—that is why it is important to properly dispose of human waste. Make a hole at least 8 inches deep for human waste and cover it up; pack out any nonbiodegradable materials.
High-altitude edema or peripheral edema is a temporary swelling of the face, eyes, fingers, and ankles. This condition is more prevalent in women, though it will affect most people going up to 14,000 feet to some degree. A less scientific term for this condition is sausage fingers. By itself, it is not a threat, but an early indicator of other possible symptoms, notably acute mountain sickness (AMS). Again, there’s no reason to be alarmed, but pay attention. Using hiking poles (which keep the fingers active in the act of gripping) can help reduce the possibility of peripheral edema in the hands. Prolonged peripheral edema can split the skin
