Adam Blauert: Wild times in the Sierra

I had a professor in college who seemed obsessed with living the healthiest life possible.

Why? Because he wanted to live as long as possible.

How did he spend his time? He did anything that might make him live longer. I've often wondered if he had any goal beyond living as long as possible. If he did, he never articulated it. His life seemed to be lived in a never-ending quest to live longer.

I've wondered if he enjoyed that quest.

I am assuming that most of you believe that there's more to life than trying to live as long as possible. Yet a memorable, exciting and meaningful life is not as safe as one that is only focused on avoiding death. Most of the things we do for fun and adventure have some degree of danger involved in them. The danger is small, but it's there.

Out of the hundreds of times I've been in remote areas, only twice has anyone in my party been in any serious peril. In general, the better prepared and more experienced you are the safer you will be. But there's a reason why "wilderness" is called "wilderness." Conditions can often be harsh and they can change in the blink of an eye.

Last week's backpacking trip in Kings Canyon National Park was a vivid reminder of this.

The first challenge we faced was a serious case of altitude sickness.

Above 9,000 feet the thin air can often result in symptoms of headache, nausea, vomiting and fatigue. Most people in good physical condition will usually adjust to the lack of air, especially if they spend the night near the trail before hiking.

I haven't had a symptom other than a headache since I was a small child. On last week's trip, however, a good friend who has often done strenuous hikes at high elevations got one of the worst cases of altitude sickness I've ever seen.

His symptoms progressed to a more advanced level that included coughing, shortness of breath and fluid retention in the extremities. The best treatment for altitude sickness is to return the victim to an elevation lower than where the symptoms began and to allow him/her to rest. This is what we did, but we were also thankful to run into a helpful ranger at the backcountry ranger station in McClure Meadow.

Altitude sickness is better prevented than treated.

Being in good physical shape and not ascending more than 1,000 feet on each of the first two days of a hike above 9,000 feet are keys to prevention. Being knowledgeable about symptoms and treatment is also important. Consult your doctor before making a strenuous trip and familiarize yourself with a book like "Mountaineering Medicine" by Fred T. Darvill, M.D.

Weather proved to be the second major challenge of the trip.

Afternoon or evening thunderstorms are common in the Sierra and we came prepared with ponchos, pack covers and an emergency shelter. During the past four years, I've only taken a tent on three of the many backpacking trips I've been on. This strategy worked fine until we had to wait out an all-night weather system above 11,000 feet. With no trees for shelter, that night of rain, hail, thunder, lightning, wind gusts exceeding 50 mph and a friend with altitude sickness seemed like the longest night of my life.

We had to cling to our emergency shelter to keep it from blowing away.

By morning we were thoroughly soaked and so was our gear.

Thunderstorms are generally easy to recover from.

You simply dry out after the rain stops.

A freak weather system like the one we encountered required turning back and setting up camp at a lower elevation. Lesson learned: I'll bring a tent next time I plan on camping above the tree line. An emergency shelter isn't nearly as effective without trees.

Although it didn't pose a real challenge for us on this trip, the thing everyone seems to be talking about this summer is the unusual proliferation of snakes in California. Something about this year's combination of weather and rainfall has made this an optimal year. Up until June I had never seen a rattlesnake above 5,000 feet. I encountered one near Kibbie Lake in Yosemite (6,500 feet) and a friend found a molted skin near Mono Hot Springs (also 6,500 feet) just before leaving on the Kings Canyon Trip. Five days later we were warned at Florence Lake (7,300 feet) that there had been two snakebites that week and a dog had been killed.

Don't let any of this dissuade you from a wilderness trip. Instead let it persuade you to be prepared. Some of the best things in life involve some risk and preparation is the key to safety. Stay tuned for rattlesnake safety in a future column.

Adam Blauert is an avid outdoorsman and local historian who enjoys fishing, backpacking and exploring the western states. He can be reached at adamblauert@yahoo.com.