This blog was first seen on The Trek and I have finally gotten around to posting it here!
“Nothing can go wrong… AH NO IT ALL WENT WRONG!”
Hey everyone! It’s been a while since my last update. I believe that was in Wrightwood a few hundred miles ago.
Well it’s time for my latest story!
(Also feel free to watch my live interview that was recorded and is now on the Trek’s PCT Instagram!)
Here we go… buckle up and take notes, because I put some informative shizz in here.
Let’s talk about hitting “The Button?”No one likes to hit the button. I sure don’t. I don’t know about ya’ll, but to me it feels like I failed if I hit that button. I think I should be able to get out of it without hitting the dreaded button. BUT. This button saves lives. It is meant to help you when you feel unsafe, you’re hurt, unable to continue etc. We need to not feel guilty to hit the button. (Trust me I felt guilty until the hospital told me I was smart to come done and that I could have died.)
I knew that I couldn’t climb over Forester Pass. I knew I was going to have to hit the button once my tramily divided my gear up to let me walk without my pack. BUT. I am a stubborn person and I did NOT want to call for SAR. If I was alone I might have tried to keep going. Which would not have been smart. Don’t be like me and need someone to tell you it’s time to press the button. If you need it I rather you be safe and okay with SAR then stubborn on a mountain pass refusing to press it. (I’ll chalk up my stubbornness to be my brain not fully working due to the altitude.)
The Story Behind my Heli EvacSo as we were ascending Mount Whitney with a 4am start, I started to feel a little sick around 12,000 feet. At this point we were all already so tired from climbing 2,000 feet past our camp. I knew I was feeling some symptoms of AS (Altitude sickness) like headache and chest tightness, but I also knew that I was also just breathing hard from the climb and I was sure I would be fine. And I was. At the top I felt completely fine. I figured that my symptoms were passing because unlike my other tramily members who were feeling the 14,505 feet of elevation I was suddenly feeling on top of the world. Realistically, I should have known that my adrenaline was probably masking the feelings of being sick and I should have headed down with the majority of them when they did an hour and a half before me.
Here’s the weird thing though, unlike the ascent where I felt only a little sick, my descent was a whole other story. Suddenly, I was not okay at all. 3.5 miles from camp I collapsed. I just went to sit down and then my legs just quite and I was laying on the cool wet grass. I couldn’t see straight, my legs felt weak, I had a pounding headache, I was nauseous, etc.
I didn’t think I would make it to camp anymore. I debated on just sleeping there as I did have my sleeping bag on me and a Tyvek sheet. No pad though which would have been unpleasant.
A couple people saw Duck, my friend who was with me, and they talked with her and they made sure I got some more electrolytes and some Advil and in about 20 mins I stopped seeing stars so we kept on trekking to camp. This time very slowly. We probably averaged about a mile per hour. Slow slow slow.
The boys in my tramily were getting ready to come back to get us and help just as we rolled up to camp. Once I ate, rested and got some electrolytes in me I felt a lot better.
Crisis adverted right?
Wrong.. so so wrong.
The next day we planned to climb Forester Pass. For those who have hiked the trail you know that there are 3 smaller hills/mountains to ascend and descend before Forester begins.
I felt fine until that first up. Once I was ascending it I started to throw up every few switchbacks/feet and knew in that moment I definitely would not be able to summit Forester today.
So on the downhill I picked up my pace to try to catch the others ahead of me to let them know that I am not okay. I luckily caught them as the downhill’s helped me walk faster and informed them of my situation.
They immediately started to unload my pack and the fastest one went ahead to let the ranger 6.9 miles ahead our situation and to figure out our next plan.
I hiked another 1/2 mile before they unloaded more items and strapped my bag onto another member of our tramily so I could hike the rest of the way to the lowest elevation near us without a pack.
I was not okay. I was barely able to walk straight.
We arrived to Wallace Creek, I started to go into shock and was no longer sweating anymore. After 20 minutes of them discussing the options and I tried to not throw up they determined that it was time to call it and hit the button.
Within 2.5 hours the chopper had arrived and off I went to Lone Pine hospital.
It was a tiring day. I can’t thank my tramily enough for keeping me safe and okay until the chopper arrived.
Ps. The chopper ride was pretty sweet, besides the fact we rose to an even higher elevation to get over the mountains and I felt so sick because of it. I snapped some cool photos though.
Listen to your body and be smart.In all fairness I should have waited another day before hitting that ascent up Forester pass. Mount Whitney feels like a two day thing. 1 day to climb, 1 day to rest. That would have been the smart thing to do. Now I know, so please learn from my mistakes, watch for the signs, really listen to your body and mind and if that means taking an extra day then do it.
Symptoms of Altitude SicknessSo what are the symptoms of altitude sickness and which ones did I unfortunately succumb to?
(Y)= I had this symptom.
Symptoms can be experienced immediately or occur gradually. They include:
How can you prevent Altitude Sickness?
A love letter to Mount WhitneyMount Whitney… You are incredible.
You are relentless. You are breath taking, humbling, extraordinary, beautiful, incredible, daunting, technical, and honestly a little scary.
And REALLY, really high up there. Like significantly uphill.
I finally feel strong after climbing you.
I feel like I can take on the rest of the Sierra because I climbed freaking Mount Whitney.
What an incredible feat.
Thank you for teaching me I can climb any mountain (at least anything under 14,505 feet)
Thank you for humbling me when I thought I would only take 5 hours to the top and instead I summited in 7.
Thank you for the constant beautiful views while I rested gasping for air on every single switchback.
Thank you for kicking my ass on the way up and on the way down.
Thank you for giving me this wild experience.
Takeaway?Summit those mountains, but listen to your body, yourself and those people around you who can see how you are declining.
Thanks to my tramily, the rangers and SAR, doctors and nurses I am A-OK and getting back on the trail tomorrow.
Let’s do this!! Time to tackle more mountains and passes (but under 13,000 feet)
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