My first bout with altitude sickness [part one]

8 am - The meet

I love Mark's truck. He never washes it. Week after week it's driven on unpaved roads out in the deserts around Nevada. The right rear fender has been ripped completely off, leaving a gaping hole that seems to me what a human face would look like if the upper lip were violently torn off, leaving behind a gruesome perpetual smile. There is something very rugged looking about the whole thing. It romanticizes our image when we step out of the truck and pull our gear out. We look like old pros. We look like men that have tackled the harshest lands Mother Nature has thrown at the world. It's a shame we do this out in the middle of nowhere, where nobody is around to bask in all of our glory.

Then again...if there was, they would witness the sad reality. We are more like Keystone Cops than Grizzly Adams.

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This morning our timing couldn't be any more perfect. As we pull into the parking lot of the gas station where we are meeting Jeremy, Jeremy pulls in right behind us. Jeremy introduces us to his friend Mike, and gives Mark a walkie-talkie for later, when we split up. Mike has come along to keep Jeremy company while he explores the mine again, and Mark and I go off so that Mark can log the Geocache he failed to take down the week before. We load up on supplies in the mini-mart, then hop back into the cars and head off to Potasi Spring.


8:45 - The Turn Off

We've already lost Jeremy. Only a few miles of a two lane highway to the exit off to the spring, and somehow he's fallen behind. Mark is unable to reach him on the walkie-talkie, so we sit off on the side of the dirt road and wait. I take advantage of our brief stop to get out and enjoy my first whiff of the pine scented air. I love that smell.

It's cold. Much colder than the week before. Luckily, I've felt the need to jam my giant backpack full of supplies, including a flannel shirt. Right away, I am dismayed, because it's smaller. I just washed it and it was noticeably smaller. Now I need a new one. It was a miracle that I had the shirt in the first place. My mother had given it to me for Christmas a few years back. At the time, I thought she was crazy. It's not the kind of thing I ever wear. I'm not typically a rugged kind of guy. I'm a leftover from the preppie 80's. And I live in the middle of the desert. Not much snow in Vegas. Either mom has tremendous foresight, or the shirt (and a gift of a Sierra Club membership later) were evil designs to set in motion the events that would lead to me becoming the outdoorsman I am today.

Eventually, Jeremy would show up, and we continue on up the road until we reach the point where Jeremy's car cannot go any further, and he and Mike jump in the back of Mark's truck with the dogs.


9:05 - At the Spring

We're hardly out of the truck, and Mark has already lost control of the dogs. They love the spring. They run around getting soaked, splashing and running around the area at full sprint. They aren't always this chaotic. It's the water. They do the same thing at every river or pond we've ventured near. Something about the water makes them crazy. The bigger dog, Powder, runs off and Mark has to chase her down.

The wind has picked up. It feels even colder, now. I already feel sickly. I have been battling a tooth ache for two days. It had gotten so bad the night before, while I was at the casino, I was in too much pain to walk to the gift shop for Tylenol. I had a cocktail waitress bring me a snifter of brandy to soak it in, so I'd be numb enough to get some drugs. I sucked down half a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol and a high strength pain killer Mark's dentist had given him for his root canal that he had left over. Then I had only gotten about 5 hours of sleep. I'm never good on short sleep.


9:20 - We hit the trail

This time, we start our trip on the right trail. The week before, we followed Mark's map, and got started in the wrong spot, which lead to us needing to make some climbs that weren't necessary. Jeremy and I found the proper trail on our way back down last week, and Jeremy had the route marked on his GPS unit.

It takes no time at all, and I'm already sucking wind. We haven't walked 15 minutes, and I'm already dragging. The weight of my pack is prohibitive. I am ready to turn around and go sleep in the back of the truck. The trail is killing me. It's narrow and carved into the side of a steep slope. Dizziness is dragging my head all over the place, and I am sure it's only a matter of moments before I take the proper tumble and rescue crews will have to come and peel my carcass off the valley floor.

The smart thing to do is stop. Testosterone and ego refuse to allow me to do the smart thing, so I plod along after the group. And my ego is now damaged. Mark is leading the group, and he keeps turning back to see if we're keeping up. I am really slowing everyone down, and I feel like a wimp. Mark seems to notice that something is wrong, and calls down to ask if I'm ok.

"No!"


9:35 - First break

How pathetic. We're on the trail only 15 minutes, and we're stopping for a rest. After giving me a few minutes to catch up on my breath a bit, we continue on. Jeremy suggests that it's altitude sickness. We've only climbed 40 feet. I know I'm too tough to fall prey to altitude sickness, anyways. I'm ready to get going.

15 minutes later, we have to stop again.


9:50 - The Second break

I offer to quit. Actually, I'm begging for them to let me go home and die in bed, rather than fall off a mountain, but I voiced it in a such a way that it sounded like I was doing it for them. I was really not comfortable being the one holding up the group, especially with a new guy on the team. But Mark says he needs a break, too. I notice that everyone seems to be breathing pretty heavy. We were moving along at a pretty good pace. I figure it's my hypoglycemia that's my problem. I'm just in need of some proper nutrition.

A Snickers bar counts as proper nutrition.