North Arete 5.7

This is one trip report I really wish I did not have to write, but on the flip side, I am quite glad I am here to write it. I decided to share this experience here for a few reasons. First, I am hoping for feedback and thoughts on what may have happened to me and if any one knows or heard of something similar happening to someone else. Second, I hope it can be educational to others venturing out on their own who may be putting themselves in a similar situation. Finally, and probably most important, I think it is an exciting story of a close call worth sharing, though I still have not shared it with my whole family or most of friends.
The story really gets going as I pulled my car into the backpacker parking area around 8:45 AM at the Mono Village Resort, just outside of Bridgeport. Though I believe the mechanisms for my failure and near demise were already set in motion. I had planned to hike up to the 12,264 foot Matterhorn Peak in the Sawtooth Ridge. A few friends had recently climbed up the couloir on the left and took the 4th class ridge to the summit. I would have preferred to climb the 5.7 North Arete, but I was unable to rally a partner and even if I had, the weather was predicted to be in the low 30s with 35MPH winds. Thus, I decided to take the route that my friends had done with plans of checking out the North Arete for another trip later this year.

I had planned to do this trip over two days, so I needed to make camp somewhere. I wanted to make camp high so I could tag the summit, or at least get high enough to where the winds turned me around, and get down early the next day. Just after 12 PM I made camp at approximately 11,000ft. It was a little high, but having spent two days on Mt. Shasta just 72 hours earlier, and made the summit with no issues. I figured the altitude would not be an issue. I made my camp under a large boulder in a boulder field. There was a bit of space underneath one particular boulder as it was propped up on one side by a smaller boulder. I used my shovel to level out the snow under it so I had a flat space, out of the wind, for my bivy sack.
After rolling out my bivy sack, I spent the next two and a half hours keeping warm in it. I took a 30-minute nap and read a few pages in a book I had brought. The wind was quite strong and the clouds that were condensing on and around Matterhorn Peak were getting thicker and coming down lower. I decided to get out of my bivy to eat some soup and go for a short walk around. I wanted to look at some of the rock up close. Some of it looked like really fun and interesting climbing and I had fun trying to find lines that I might want to come back and climb later.
At about 4PM I started the short walk back to my camp. It was at this point that I first noticed that I was feeling a little off my norm. I first noticed that I was stumbling a little as I walked and it took considerable effort to walk normal. I also noticed I was feeling a little light headed and most odd was that my small and ring fingers started to feel numb. Once I got to my camp I knelt down beside it and tried to assess my situation. The numbness in my hands was getting more pronounced and I was beginning to feel very fatigued. I did not recognize my symptoms as being related to the altitude. I did not have any hint of nausea or a headache. The clumsiness and fatigue seamed like they could be related to the altitude, but the numbness in my hands, which was most alarming, seemed out of place. It only took a moment for me to realize resting in place was not the option I should choose and that descending was mandatory. As I gathered my things I focused on taking full, deep breaths in my nose and out my mouth through pursed lips, though I did not feel short of breath at all. The numbness in my hands was becoming more and more pronounced and it was spreading to my arms, shoulders, neck and into my lips and face as well as starting in my feet and legs. I was struggling to get my bivy sack, with sleeping bag still in it, shoved into my pack as I started losing function of my hands and arm. I was beginning to take a conscious effort to close and open my hands. My arms started a very subtle and uncontrollable tremer. I still had a few items to get in my bag, but the rate at which I was loosing control of my body was so alarming that I considered leaving my bag and all my things just to start my descent. I decided I had to take the bag even though I was unable to get all my things inside. I draped the few items I had left to pack over the top of the bag and hoped they would not fall off. I was able to get the bag over my shoulders as I staggered over to the steeper part of the snowfield.

At this point I was having a difficult time holding on to my ice ax and I doubted my ability to self arrest if I found myself sliding really fast down the snow, but I had no option other than to start glissading down, with crampons on. As I lay back with my feet out in front of me sliding down the snow I continued to focus on my breathing and tried to relax every muscle I could to conserve energy and oxygen. The thought that this could some how be hypoglycemia, a condition I have never had, crossed my mind. Fortunately I had a pack of peanut butter crackers in my pocket and was able to open the pack and eat them as I glissaded down. By the time I reached the bottom of this snowy slope, about four of five hundred feet high, the feeling in my lips was coming back. I also felt as though I had a little more energy.

I was able to get on my feet and walk, rather wobbly, around a ridge and though a few trees to the top of another snow slope. On my way up I had seen only one other person and I had seen him here, at the top of this snow slope. He was getting his skies on at the time I saw him and had his dog with him. As I began to glissade down this slope I saw his ski tracks and his dog’s paw prints in the snow and knew he was long gone. Once reaching the bottom of this slope, about 1,000 feet in height, I staggered over to a large boulder and hid from the wind. I was feeling much better, but still a long way from normal. My hands and most of my arms were still very numb and difficult to use. While lying down behind the boulder I decided to eat a few packs of gummy fruit snackes that I had in my bag and drink some water. The numbness was slowly going, and my energy was coming back slowly, but I felt I still needed to get down further. The next and last snow slope was about three or so hundred yards away, across a talus field. As I was staggering across the last few hundred feet to the slope I felt the numbness in my hands and feet returning and fast.

Once reaching the bottom of this last snow slope, at about 6 PM, there was only brush and boulders with some short, well defined, trails ahead to navigate. I decided to walk a few feet off the snow to get myself behind a few trees that would shield me from the strong winds as I took off my crampons. I also decided to take the time to get a second pair of pants on to keep me warmer. As I am doing all this, the numbness is coming back up my arms and into my face and I am feeling weaker and weaker by the second. Just as I finished getting my boots back on the weakness was so great I was unable to stand. I decided the only thing I could do was to rollover onto my back and get my feet propped up on my pack. I laid there watching the clouds swirling and changing shape overhead as my body felt as though it was slipping away from me as it became numb and felt like it was vibrating. The muscles in my arms began to feel very tight and looking down at my hands, I saw my fingers curling in to a clenched position as most of my body began to tremble. I still had full control of my breathing and continued to focus on deep-pursed lip breathing. I was also still able to shout. I gave out one shout for help, but found it very scary and unsettling to hear my own voice in distress so I chose to save my energy. I also knew there was little to no chance that there was anyone there.

As my body continued to slowly slip away from me, I started to think that this really could be it. I would have never thought I would die lying on my back in the middle of a trail from some sort of metabolic mechanism that I didn’t understand. If I am going to die young, I would have guessed it would have been from a rock fall that snuffs me out while climbing, a shark taking a bite out of me while surfing, maybe sliding my motorcycle into an embankment while racing around in the hills or drowning after getting stuck in a sieve or strainer while white water kayaking. Laying there staring at the clouds unable to feel my body I thought about my parents, friends, coworkers and this girl I just met from some online dating site, ha. I felt bad for their loss, but not for myself. I was bummed that I would not get to go on more adventures, but I was stoked for all that I had already done.

After about 15 to 20 minutes of nearly complete numbness and waiting to have the lights fade out on me, things started to take a turn for the better. I was getting some strength back, but still had very little feeling. I decided I should reach down to my pack and get my foam mat out and roll myself over onto it. This way if I was to pass out I would have a little bit better chance of staying warm and hopefully waking back up. A few minutes later I had enough energy to reach back down to my pack for food. As I clawed at my bag for food a can of condensed soup came out. I was not able to pull the top off with my hand, but I was able to pick up my ice ax and use the spike to pry the can open. I also used the end of the ice ax to shovel some of the soup into my mouth, as I could not reach the spoon, but did not have the energy to take more than a few mouthfuls. The next thing I thought I should do was to get my sleeping bag out and slide myself inside.

Once I was in the sleeping bag I started to figure out what might be happening to me. I came up with a good list of possibilities, but the hypothesis that seemed to be most likely was that I had become hypoxic. At first it seemed unlikely. I had been to fourteen thousand feet a number of times and even as high at nineteen thousand feel once and never had an issue with altitude sickness or symptoms like what I was experiencing. In thinking about this a little more I remembered that I had read once that one of the human body’s reactions to elevation is for the kidneys to start peeing out bicarbonate. Now I did not know how that helps the body acclimate to altitude, but I did know that bicarbonate is the bloods pH buffer and without it the bloods pH must be more labile and susceptible to change. Seeing how I had spent a few days on Mt Shasta, at an altitude of ten thousand feet and higher, only 72 hours earlier, my kidneys had already dumped some of my bicarbonate and it is unlikely that 72 hours is enough time to replenish what I lost. In addition, my muscles were really sore and full of lactic acid after Mt Shasta. Not only had I just climbed Mt Shasta, but I spent three days climbing in Yosemite Valley right before Shasta so every muscle group was feeling a little to very sore when I started up Matterhorn Peak. I hypothesized that the hike up to the base of Matterhorn Peak worked a lot of that lactic acid out of my muscles and into my blood which was unable to maintain its pH, due to the low level of bicarbonate, thus making my blood acidic and compromising my hemoglobin’s ability to hold and transport oxygen. This is why I was having such a severe reaction to an elevation that has never been an issue in the past. If this is what really happened to me the best preventive measure I see to take is simply to be better rested before heading up in altitude. I need to allow my body more time to clear out the lactic acid and build up my bicarbonate buffer between high altitude trips.
It was around 8:30 or 9:00 PM, as I lay in my sleeping bag staying warm that I realized I finally felt normal again. I had full feeling back, all the way to my fingertips. I did not know if I was fully recovered or if the symptoms would return with any level of exertion so I chose to spend the night there. I wondered what some one would think if they found me - a person in a bivy sack with his feet on top of his backpack laying head down hill on the trail. Cloths, crampons, food spread out all over the place with a half empty can of condensed Campbell’s soup, that had an ice ax in it on the ground. I worried about a ranger finding me and writing a bunch of citations, or worse, a bear coming for my soup and other food items. But I decided I was just going to rest that night not bothering to clean things up.
The next morning after watching the sun come out and the stars and moon fade away from the sky I decided to try standing up for the first time in 12 hours. I took things very slow and cautiously as I gathered my belongings and packed them in my bag. After eating a light breakfast I started my hike down to the car pausing every so often to assess how my body was feeling. I made it back to the car without any issues and have felt just fine ever since.
I have yet to go to any significant elevation since this trip and will probably wait until I have a buddy to go with for the first few trips. However, I will at some point be doing higher altitude trips by myself I am sure. I will just make sure I am better rested and better prepared for a fast descent if one is needed. As I wrote above, I share this story largely for your feedback, so let me have it. Constructive and insightful feedback is preferred, but I have thick skin so feel free to call me out for having been up there alone if you think I am an idiot for that. At least one of my friends already nailed me pretty good for that.