Heat Exhaustion on the Upper Taos Box

I want to talk about something that happened to me quite unexpectedly.  It felt terrible and truly could have been much much worse.

Late last month I ran the Upper Taos Box.  I have been down this stretch many times and this day was with a crew of good solid boaters.  I was feeling this day that river running hardly gets much better than this.  To start off with, I love the Rio Grande and all the terrain in northern New Mexico.  Waking up in the back of my truck in a beautiful place like the Wild and Scenic Rivers Area near Questa is one my favorite feelings in the world.  Even though it was still March 26, the day was sunny and warm; the Rio was running just over 600, so it was low, but still fast, fun and technically challenging.  To top it off, this was also my first demanding run in my new Shiva and I was fired up to get to know her.

If you don't know, the Upper T. Box can be a rewarding day, but you have to work for it and the carnage is not uncommon...  The run itself is 7.5 miles of fast and busy Class IV and V with sieves being the major hazzard.  The most daunting aspect of this rally though, I think most will agree, is the hiking.  The hike in is a steep and rocky trail that drops some 600 vertical feet in about a quarter of a mile down to the river.  The hike out is closer to 800 vertical feet over about eight tenths of a mile.  Remember, you carry your 50 pound creek boat with all your wet gear, pin kit, med kit, spare paddle....  Fun!

So as I said, this day I had been feeling good and strong on the water and didn't feel at all tired when I first hoisted my boat to head up and out.  I was even experimenting with a new backpack system to carry the boat, but I'll write about that piece of gear more specifically soon.

Now here is were my day got interesting.  Almost immediately, I began feeling the sun very intensely and felt like I was just zapped right away of all energy.  The boat on my back seemed to increase in weight tenfold and my legs felt like noodles.  Even at the top of the first pitch, I had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong.  Although the last thing I wanted was to carry more weight, I had to sit and take off my dry pants as I was so very hot.  I drank much of the little bit of water I had left (I had chugged much of it at the river) and felt better when I set off again in my long underwear hiked up to my knees.  As soon as the trail turned upward again however, the heat and fatigue set in with a vengeance.  At this point I was worried, but I knew what I had to do... I had to get out of the canyon.  There was only one way to go, up.  I trudged on. Everything hurt.  This was more than just feeling tired; there was a very menacing aspect to my situation.  I was getting weaker and shakier with every step.  The day, which was really not all that hot, felt like an oven... the sun like a giant heat lamp trained just on me.  Frequently I allowed myself to stop and rest with the nose of my kayak on the ground.  Here was a problem with the backpack harness, it took (or seemed to take) so much work to take the thing off and put it back on that I had to resort to plopping the bow down in the dirt and leaning back against it in a very precarious manner.  So that was my pattern... I'd hike for two or three minutes and get too uncoordinated to continue and have to rest for three or four.  And it all got worse as time went on.  Soon, I was getting very dizzy, headachy, crampy, and nauseated.  I think the frequent little rests in whatever shade I could find was my only saving grace preventing me from vomiting.  Before long, the dehydration set in.  My throat and tongue were sticking together and I had nothing to spit or swallow.  I was in survival mode.  But the rim was so close, I had to press on.

Finally, I did make it out.  In the parking lot I essentially collapsed on the cool concrete under a tree and passed out for about 20 minutes.  Still, when I got myself up and moving, I was still not quite right.  I felt very heavy, utterly exhausted and slow.  It took me for ever to pack up the truck and make ready for the three hour drive back to Salida.

This experience came as a complete surprise.  I've done this exact hike many times before, and knew I was not in for a particularly fun time, but this was different.  The mind turns into a funny thing when it gets out of whack.  I'm trained as a Wilderness EMT and all the while little red flags and alarms were going off in my head, but being so affected, I wasn't listening to them very well.

Maybe it was just a perfect storm.  I hadn't slept great the night before (though I didn't feel tired), and I'll admit I didn't really have my usual summer hiking legs back under me as it was still early season.  I also know that it is possible for this type of heat exhaustion to come on a person with no exact cause.  It certainly just hit me out of blue.  I never would have expected that eight tenths of a mile could stretch on for so long.

My big mistake was not carrying enough water.  Trying to cut down on my carry weight I had nearly finished what water I had at the river.  My second poor choice was that I didn't set my boat down, carry out just all the gear and eat some food and rest for a while back at camp.  There was no rush, I could always have gone back for the boat later.  But no, I had told myself I was going to do the hike....

What I did right was at least allowing myself the grace to go slow.  All the little stops I took probably saved me from a worse outcome.

So the moral of my story is to be kind to yourself.  Be aware of yourself.  Also be aware of the other people out there with you.  The best I felt during the whole experience was when one of the other guys I had been boating with came back down to check on me after I hadn't appeared up at the rim for so long.  We love to get out there and push ourselves hard in the elements and sometimes our bodies just don't respond the way we expect.  That's ok.  Allow yourself the leeway to go slow if you need to.  No point in pushing yourself on the trail... save that for on the water!