2) Pay attention to your friend’s moods. A jovial pal who becomes quiet may be starting to feel lousy. Don’t take an angry or edgy friend too personally; acclimatization can make anyone grumpy.
3) Ibuprofen is a good preventative for altitude sickness, for those who rarely hike or who may be trying a difficult climb in Colorado.
4) Offer to carry a little extra weight (or do so without your friend’s knowledge).
5) Never downplay the accomplishment of climbing a Colorado mountain. It may be easy for you, but it may be a life-changing experience for your friend.
6) Likewise, if a friend gets sick, don’t make them feel bad about it. As soon as it’s apparent that going down is the best idea, concentrate on their well-being and try to get their mind on other things. Remind them that altitude sickness isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of too little oxygen.
7) Offer to take photos for your pal. Not only is it cool for your friend to see him- or herself on top of a mountain, it’s one less thing they have to worry about if they are struggling with the thin air.
8) And one from personal experience: Don’t ask them if they are OK 700 times on a single hike. They may be fine, and your insistent questioning may make them think they aren’t. Most people will let you know if they aren’t doing well, either by subtle hints or outright saying so.
Dogs at Altitude
Because animals are infinitely tougher than humans, it would be hard to tell if your dog was feeling bad at altitude. In general, dogs seem to be barely affected at altitude—many can be seen joyfully running up to the summits of Colorado’s highest peaks. It’s important to keep dogs hydrated and, of course, to keep an eye on their demeanor. If they become lethargic or struggle to keep up, it may be a good time to turn around. They aren’t immune to altitude, but they are naturally better equipped to deal with it.
The Bierstadt Incident: A Personal Tale of Altitude Woe
Even though I’ve done extensive climbing over 14,000 feet, my one—and hopefully only—instance of mild AMS happened in Colorado. I was 22 at the time and chock-full of bravado. I had always fared well at altitude, so after spending more than three weeks at sea level in Maine, I figured that I’d be fine to go directly from my red-eye flight into the mountains. No problem.
I picked a mountain that has an easy standard route: 14,060-foot Mount Bierstadt. I made my first bad decision before even getting on the mountain. Instead of taking the easier standard route, I intended to climb an alternate way that started at 13,000-plus feet from the Mount Evans Road. It dropped down a gully, crossed a basin, and then ascended the mountain. My entire day would be spent over 12,500 feet.
It was indeed a fun route, well within my ability, and I felt fine until I was about 300 vertical feet from the summit. I felt my whole body go shaky and I became nauseous. I lost sensation in my fingertips and got very dizzy. I yelled to my hiking partner (who was about 50 feet from the summit) that I was going down. At the time, I felt he could have summited without me and then caught up with me on the way down; he decided to abandon the top and help me down.
We dropped into the low basin and I still felt OK; not great, but I was moving under my own power. Unfortunately, I had to climb 1,000 feet uphill via a loose gully to reach the truck. The turning point was when I tried to eat a handful of totally unappetizing imitation M&Ms. I threw up at the smell of them, and I bonked.
The hike up was no picnic; waves of nausea and spinning black fuzz in my peripheral vision enervated my every step. By the time I topped out of the gully, I had been dry heaving for over an hour and didn’t have the strength to walk across a flat section to the truck. My hiking partner (who had already taken my backpack) went to the truck, dropped off the packs, and returned to piggyback me to the parking area. Grateful, but still feeling awful, I fell asleep on the drive home. When I awoke an hour or two later, I was back in Boulder and I felt fine. Not even a hint of the breakdown that previously incapacitated me was present.
I had learned my lesson. Even strong climbers need to respect altitude! From that day on, I was more aware of my body and took the time to reintroduce myself to altitude after visits to sea level. It was a rough lesson to learn (and it was only moderate AMS), but I’m a much wiser hiker, having learned it firsthand.
Weather: The Wild World above the Mountains
If one needs to be assured that mountain environments are untamed, simply look to the sky. Mountain weather is a powerful element of backcountry travel that must be respected. Predicting weather at high altitude is a difficult science. The factors that contribute to storms may not be evident until the clouds are already forming. This isn’t to say that mountain weather is completely random. Storm trends tend to be good heralds of what to expect in a given mountain range or at a specific time of the year. While clouds can build up quickly, how they do so can offer clues to the oncoming weather.
(Note: If you want to be a storm expert, see Appendix D for more comprehensive resources on mountain weather.)
Why So Many Storms? How Mountain Weather Builds
From late spring to mid-autumn (prime hiking season), afternoon storms should be expected to roll in between 1 p.m. and 4 p.m. every day. Storms and lightning are daily threats during this time because of the temperature variations from night to day and the available moisture present. Nights are cool and promote condensation of water vapor in the air; after sunrise, heat from the sun initiates evaporation. As hot and cool air collide, electricity forms in the condensed clouds and continues to build throughout the day. At the hottest part of the day (often around 2–3 p.m. in the high country), the balance is tipped, and the storms unleash brief but formidable torrents of rain, sleet, snow, and hail.
If no larger fronts have been forecast, these storms usually run their course by late afternoon. Be warned: These storms often display the violent power of lightning, making exposed travel above tree line especially dangerous.
General Weather Advice
The proven best advice for safe hiking in Colorado: Start early! Beginning your hikes in the early morning (and in some cases, predawn) will ensure that you are back into the safety of tree line if storms hit. For hikes in this book, consider the estimated time and distance along with your own pace to formulate the best time to start, summit, and finish a hike. Being off summits by 11:30 a.m. or earlier is a good guideline. As you get better at reading weather, you’ll be better able to tell if you can push it back a little later. As a side note, with almost all hikes, if I can’t be on the trail by 8:30 a.m. at the latest, I’ll change the summit from a goal to an optional bonus.
I’m not a big fan of dawdling on summits unless the weather is near perfect. Some people like to snack, nap, or recharge on top of mountains—even when storms are looming. If you have gotten a later-than-expected summit, snap a few pictures, and then descend to a safer locale to eat and rest—preferably in tree line.
You can use the children’s rule of counting the time between lightning and thunder to determine storm distance: count the seconds between the sight of lightning and the crash of thunder and divide it by five; for example, a five-second count means that the storm is 1 mile away. Continue to count successive flashes and booms. If the time decreases, the storm is drawing near. If the time increases, the storm is moving away.
If you wake up the morning of a hike socked in by fog, it isn’t necessarily a reason to call off the hike. If a cold front has moved in, it may rain and be foggy, but it can also ward off thunderstorms. If you are good at navigating
