MISTER BLISTER
The EXCOM of HAMS met on January 18. The following is a summary of topics and events under discussion.
Newsletter. Starting with this issue, the newsletter will have a new, improved look. A different printing process ( the Docutech method) is being used that will mean better text and graphics; in particular, much better rendition of photographs. Cost is slightly more per copy. Circulation stands at about 500 copies.
Expeditions. Trips are in the works to the Grand Canyon (May '96), Mt. Rainier (July '96), the Mexican Volcanoes (November '96), and Bolivia (June '97). The trips last December to Aconcagua and the Venezuelan Andes were both very successful. The hoped for trip to Russia is apparently dead for this year. The out-of-country fee paid to the CMC Outings Committee went up $25 per person. The CMC is still exploring the idea of making outings separate from regular business of the club. Several conditioning hikes/climbs are being planned for next fall to benefit trip participants.
Schools. The first ever, Crampon and Snow Review Seminar, held on January 9 & 13, was very successful with 21 students. HAMS School has begun with 23 students and will be complete February 25. Three sets of new ice tools were purchased this year for the school. Terry Root will resign as director of HAMS School in March and a search has begun for his replacement.
Data Processing. A discussion took place on whether people are making use of the data base of trip reports. An annual questionnaire may be printed in the newsletter asking people for trip reports on where they have been.
Section Business. Nominations will be put forth at the March meeting for next year's Chairman and Secretary/Treasurer. John Wallack has volunteered to run for Chairman (yaah, John!).
Thin Air is the newsletter of the High Altitude
Mountaineering Section, published five times
annually.
Editors: John and Kris Wallack
Staff: Linda Grey, Terry Root
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ISSUE : APRIL 11
The High Altitude Mountaineering Section exists to promote
an interest and awareness in expedition mountaineering within the Colorado
Mountain Club. Dues are $7 annually.
Chairman Ward Hobert
Past Chairman Steve
Bonowski
Secretary/Treasurer Kay Miller
Programs Committee
Beth Schlichter *
Jennifer Sears
School Directors:
Hams School Terry Root
Crampon School Paul Wilson
Social
Keith Jensen
Newsletter Committee Kris Wallack *
John
Wallack *
Terry Root
Linda Grey
Kim Shaner
Publicity
Andy White
Data Processing Paula Engel
Equipment Committee
Ken Yarcho *
Craig Patterson
Expeditions Malcolm
Wentling
Research Paul Wilson
Denver Group
Council
Liaison Ginger Ellis
* = committee chair
MISTER BLISTERDear Mister Blister,
I've climbed all over the world, bagged the seven
summits and skied to the south pole. I've lost finger and toes, fried brain
cells, and broke half my bones. But what I really can't stand are these damn
blisters! What should I do?
R.M.
Dear R.M.,
Maybe you should take up bowling? In any case, here are
some tips from HAMS' own Venezuelan Bobsled and Climbing Team.
M.B.
p.s. If you've got a tip for Mister Blister, just write care of Thin Air
or via the Internet www.suck.air
Malcolm Wentling:
Tape your feet before they get bad. I hate to stop on the trail and tape my feet! Wear 2 pairs of socks. If you do get blisters, tape them with moleskin and don't remove it for the rest of your trip or your life, whichever comes first.
Steve Bonowski:
Wear 2 pairs of socks; an inner soft liner and an outer sock. Sometimes Vaseline helps prevent blisters, plus it's fun at parties.
Jennifer Sears:
Wear three pairs of socks; one polypro liner, one very thin wool sock and one thicker wool sock. Put Vaseline on the entire foot including the ankle. Vaseline is good because it lessens the friction between the feet and socks. The disadvantage is that it can soften the feet too much and actually cause a blister. Also, if a blister does develop, bandages won't stick to the skin. Don't pop blisters! Let them air dry. Have fun while getting them...usually it takes 15 miles or so to develop one... (Ed.- She went on like this for half an hour.)
Paula Engel:
Wear two pairs of socks (liner and wool). For a blister, use a combination of moleskin, athletic tape and duct tape, and change daily. I prefer not getting them. (Ed.- However, Paula is into whips and chains.)
Terry Root:
Wear one pair of socks and lubricate with motor oil (winter 10w40 and summer 10w30). Change the oil every 3000 miles and your socks once a year. (Ed.- Recommended for solo climbers only.)
Linda Grey:
I do all of the above and none of it works, so I just complain a lot.
Briefs This year's HAMS trip to the highest peak in the Western
Hemisphere, organized and led by Craig Patterson and co-led by Debby Reed, was
our most successful to date. All of the group climbed to new personal altitude
limits and a record ten reached the summit. On their eleven days on the
mountain, weather was mostly unstable. But fortunately, a three day break in
the weather coincided with their summit push up the Ruta Normal. A
unique New Year's Eve party punctuated the adventure.
Craig reports
the group was tremendously supportive of each other, especially to those who
had a few "sick" days. After the climb, they visited the quiet town of Los
Andes in Chile where Dick Falb had served in the Peace Corps, some thirty years
earlier. On the trip were: Craig Patterson (leader), Debby Reed (co-leader),
Sherri Durham, Shane Holonitch, Steve Holonitch, Lisa Sieders, Steve Sieders,
Dick Falb, Mike Copeland, Jim Carlock, Brian Wickham, Cindy Carey
Over forty persons made contact to participate in the seminar. Twenty one students from Boulder, Denver, and Pikes Peak Groups completed the lecture on Jan. 9 and the field session on Jan. 13. The seminar was overwhelmingly received and many students suggested that we do it again. The weather was sunny, above freezing, and the wind was moderate. The snow condition was excellent (hard wind blown Styrofoam). Every one had a lot of fun, since due to the good conditions, the instructors were able to expand the class details.
Students completing the seminar were: Jonathan Beene, Nancy Bluhm, Eric Brehm, Georgia & Dennis Briscoe, James Brock, David Cantrell, Phillip Cogdon, Barbara Gilmore, Stephen Hamel, Rod Jeske, Jeanie & Paul Marizza, Bill Markley, Cathy McKeen, Steve Parry, Dan Paxton, Neil Perrin, Paul Shushan, Steve Slater, and Julie Tolleson.
Many thanks to the instructors as follows: Steve Barker, Bob Becker, Bill Blazek, Jim Bryant, Randy Eisen, Doug Henkens, Andy Jost, Gyorgy Kerezti, Bob Reiman, Sherry Richardson, Terry Root, Terry Stevenson, and John Van Ginkel. Julie Wilson helped with the logistics and equipment. The Director was Paul Wilson.
Travelers to remote areas of the world carry a nagging fear, "What happens
if there is an emergency when I'm gone?" Such a situation faced Craig Patterson
when he returned from leading a CMC climb of Aconcagua. His long time
four-legged companion, Samson had died suddenly.
Raised in the
California desert, Samson was trained as a search and rescue dog. A skillful
and athletic canine, he had survived being bitten by a sidewinder, flown in
helicopters, and even rappeled down a mountainside. Samson has climbed numerous
Colorado peaks, his most amazing ascent being of Ice Mountain. Craig recently
was training Sam for avalanche rescue. He would bury his wife, Sherri, in the
snow with a dog biscuit and summon Sam for the search (either for Sherri or the
bone, we were never quite sure). Lucky for Sherri, Samson was swift!
Those
who knew Sam will miss climbing with him. Samson was 10.
The northern end of the great Andean chain finishes in the south-western corner of Venezuela in the Sierra Nevada de Merida.
This past December, a HAMS team of six went to trek in the backcountry and to climb the two highest summits, Pico Bolivar (5007 m) and Pico Humboldt (4942 m). They found a range of great variety; with charming villages, strange, upland moors, dark cloud forests and two intriging peaks- one of rock and one of snow.
Los Nevados awoke at 4 a.m. A rooster crowed, more answered, a mule brayed across the valley, and men talked and walked through the fields in darkness, turning on sprinklers. First light outlined high mountains all around, with the tiny pueblo and it's fields perched on a ridge, jutting out of the gorge. A man threw shovels of grain into the breeze to sift the chaff, a nativity scene was lovingly constructed in the square, and inside the church, it was cool and quiet. We emerged from our posada, rested and fed, to find a peaceful, charming mountain village, a world removed from our accustomed lives. It wasn't long before the peace was shattered by the sight and sound of clumsy gringos trying to mount balky mules, and there was laughter and nervous giggles as some of the mules spun around and kicked. The scene soon returned to tranquility; villagers were too used to the sight of mules trotting out of town laden with oversize passengers and didn't understand our cries in English, "How do you steer this thing"! This didn't matter, as the mules were used to the whole thing likewise and didn't need any guidance from us at all. They headed straight up the path for the mountains that loomed behind town, and we hung on and discovered that riding a mule might give you a sore butt for awhile but it sure beats walking.
The Sierra Nevada de Merida is dry on this side of the range, in stark contrast to the lush rain forests of the north side. Prickly pear cactus shared the slopes with steeply tilted fields of corn and potatoes. The farmers waved as we rode past their white washed, adobe dwellings. After a couple hours, we left the fields behind and entered a different region of bushes and shrubs, many flowering with bright, pink blossoms, finally emerging in the rolling moorlands above treeline called los paramos. We laughed and swatted the butts of mules to send their riders forward with a sudden lurch or jostled for the front end of the line or cut each other off. But the laughter stopped when our loads were dumped at Alto de la Cruz, a 14000 foot pass on the range crest. The arriero and his mules hightailed it back, the mules in a hurry, headed for the barn. Before us loomed Pico Bolivar, mysteriously peeking through the mist.
After a night camped near the pass, we spent most of the next day struggling with our heavy packs up the broken trail to the top of nearby Pico Espejo, some fifteen hundred feet higher. The abandoned terminal for the teleferica became our unusual home for the next few nights. When it still was running it must have been a spectacular ride- the highest cable car in the world. >From the rocky summit, the cables still stretched out into the abyss and one could imagine the cars dangling out over thousands of feet of air. Five years ago, the last car stopped dangling and somehow detached and fell with it's passengers into the cirque, shutting the system down, perhaps forever. Now the big bull wheels have rusted and our footsteps and voices echoed eerily against the polished wood floors. Outside one window, immune to the constantly blasting winds, a huge statue of the Virgin stood with arms outstretched in blessing, flanked by the two major peaks, one of rock and the other of snow. We could not help but notice that it was the stark differences between Pico Bolivar, with it's dark turrets of rock, and the sparkling, white snow dome of Pico Humboldt that would make it fun to climb and explore them both.
Face to Face With El Liberador
It took only a couple hours work to scramble down from our camp to the rugged basin beneath the south face of Bolivar Here the Timoncito Glacier, which only recently still occupied this bowl, has receded to an inconsequential snowfield. While the route looked like a confusing mess of messy gullies and steep towers from below, cairns soon led onto the right path. We climbed several hundred feet up the first gully, a rotten affair with several chock stones, glad there was not another team above to make bowling pins out of us. Before reaching the ridge, a second gully led to the left and after a short scramble, we emerged through a notch and out onto the spectacular north face. The final pitch was wonderfully airy on fine rock, and on the compact summit, the ubiquitous, bigger than life-size bust of El Liberador gazed out over the country he had created. Eleven thousand feet below, we could see the red tiled roofs of Merida, splashed with sunshine.
The trek to a camp beneath Humboldt led through the rolling moors of the paramo for several miles, enveloped in a cool, afternoon fog. In good spirits, we tromped along, occasionally surprised by a wild cow or a small band of trekkers who would suddenly materialize out of the mist. Curious plants dominated the open moorlands, like the frailejon, a sort of large rosette. Each season's growth forms on the top of last year's, until mature plants can be as tall as a person and several decades old.
We packed along the gentle, south flanks of the range, peering through the thick mist, looking for the cut in the ridge that would take us over the crest. At last, we scrambled up to La Ventana, and indeed, looked through a window into another, very different, world. Below us spread a fantastic, alpine basin, carved deeply by glaciers and ringed by fine, rugged peaks. Whooping and hollering, we rode the scree down a narrow gully, fifteen hundred feet, to the floor and camped among profuse wildflowers on the shores of a small tarn, Lago Suero. At the head of the valley, above the carved benches and tumbling waterfall, was the blue ice of Humboldt's Corona Glacier.
Climbing the Snow Dome
When we left camp the next morning, the waterfall had fallen silent, frozen by night temperatures at this altitude. The smooth benches of strange, iridescent rock, that had looked formidable, had dozens of cairned routes. Venezuelan climbers seem to be into cairns in a big way, often leading in several directions at once, sometimes leading to no place in particular. We followed a likely seam up to the left onto a jumbled bench before losing the correct route. An errant set of cairns led us onto the wrong spot on the glacier, a short, uncomfortable part with steep ice and a few scattered crevasses, but soon, we were ambling across the gentle snow fields of the upper glacier. The top was a short scramble up a broken summit block, sticking like a sore thumb out of the surrounding ice and snow. From this airy vantage point, we could gaze down a long, winding valley, the bold, green line clearly visible where we would soon descend into a dark forest.
Into The Cloud Forest
The trail down this steep, alpine valley begins in wildflowers at the foot of a glacier and emerges out of a dense cloud forest, some eight thousand feet lower. In the ancient past, the glaciers and cascades carved the landscape into a jumble of moraines, lakes, boulders and brush. We stumbled down through this maze, over countless rocks, squeezed through narrow cracks between boulders, leapt over streams and slid through the mud until the trail abruptly ended, where a cliff jutted out of the hillside. Here holes had been drilled, bars pounded into the rock and planks laid across the sheer face. Gingerly we walked across, wondering how long the boards had been there and delighting in taking pictures of whoever's turn it was. Emerald lakes, full of trout, gave an excuse to stop and take in the amazing vegetation changes that occurred around us as the altitude dropped.
In descending, the trail gradually became easier and more manageable and the dark forest began to loom ahead, beginning with scattered groves of elegant eucalyptus. The cloud forest in time enveloped us with it's huge trees swathed in mist, mosses and air plants. Lush bamboo and ground ferns, with fronds as big as a person, formed an impenetrable ground story. Strange cries from unseen birds could be heard above in the canopy and strangest yet, were the huge, red orchids that grew in profuse numbers in the crotch of many tree limbs. It existed in two distinct phases, one in full, triumphant flower and the other obviously spent; and because of it's uncanny resemblance to something else in nature, it was promptly dubbed penis erectus and penis limpus. Unknown frames of film were wasted recording this for the benefit of science. Everything seemed to be competing for light and air, with little left over to filter down to us on the forest floor. We trudged on until weariness and sore feet made us stop for the night and we camped in a small clearing, site of a dilapidated hut, amidst all this dark, green splendor. That night we slept fitfully, listening to the roar of the cascades from the deep gorge beside camp.
We left early, without taking breakfast. Everyone knew we were close and every trip has a certain momentum at this point; it starts to resemble a runaway train. If thoughts of hard granite and a sparkling glacier had driven us upward into this range, now dreams of a hot shower and a cold beer propelled us downward with ever increasing speed. Down, no longer noticing what phase the orchids were in or entranced by the gigantic trees, we raced down, like those mules headed for the barn. We burst out of the lightless forest into the bright, hot sun, threw our packs down on the grass, and called a cab.
No one needs to be told that this has been a cold winter, but surprisingly, the hospitals in Denver have not had to treat many cases of frostbite. Frostbite is not common in civilian life; but it has been a disaster in wars, injuring hundreds of thousand of men and altering the course of history. In WWII the Germans had more than 250,000 cases of frostbite during the first two winters of their invasion of Russia.
Types of Cold Injuries
Frostbite is one of several localized cold injuries. Milder forms are chilblains, a red itchy swelling of fingers that occurs during cold, damp winters; and frostnip - the sort of white freezing of cheeks and nose seen during cold days skiing. Neither of these problems results in permanent damage.
Immersion (or trench) foot is a more serious, non-freezing cold injury that occurs when feet are exposed to a cold, wet environment for several days. Immersion foot can almost always be prevented by careful foot care; keeping dry, changing socks regularly and wearing waterproof boots.
True frostbite requires that tissues be frozen, which means that the temperature of the skin, fat and other tissues must be below 28 F (because of the electrolytes in tissues, the freezing point of cells is below that of water). Ice crystals form between the cells and draw water from the cells themselves, causing damage. But most of the damage occurs during rewarming. Even Hippocrates in the 5th Century BC recognized that the blisters, like those found in burns, did not appear until the frozen part is thawed.
Recognition
How do you recognize that a part is frozen? It is very cold, white or grey, and has no feeling. The loss of feeling is one of the most reliable signs that a part is frozen. If the part remains frozen, the appearance will not change much. If the part thaws - and many feet and hands will thaw spontaneously in a few hours - blisters appear shortly. If the blisters are filled with clear, yellow fluid, the damage is usually superficial and there will be no permanent damage. If, however, the blisters appear at the base of fingers and toes and are filled with bloody fluid, damage has been severe and there may be loss of digits and other permanent damage.
Treatment
It may be impractical advice, but if possible, avoid the freeze-thaw-refreeze cycle. Nothing is more likely to result in damage. High on a mountain, with several days between frostbite and rescue, feet and hands are almost certain to thaw and may become refrozen. It is often better to walk out on a frozen foot rather than allow it to became thawed and then be unable to walk out on a soft, swollen foot that will not fit in a boot.
Rapid rewarming in water at 102-105 F for 30-40 minutes is the best way to rewarm a frozen foot. But this should only be done in a facility beyond which there is no further need to move the victim, or there is effective transportation. After a part has been thawed it must be carefully dried and protected from further damage.
What about medications? There are no magic pills. Some climbers are taking ibuprofen routinely to prevent damage. There is no evidence that this works although there is experimental evidence that ibuprofen is a useful part of treatment after frostbite has occurred.
Prevention
Frostbite, like immersion foot, can almost always be avoided. Wear appropriate clothing. Do not expose hands and feet to wetness and metal during periods of freezing. Wear liner gloves so that you can remove outer mittens without direct exposure of the underlying hands. Make sure your boots are not too tight and that you can wear two pairs of socks (or a double boot). If you become severely frostbitten, expect a long convalescence and (probably) a lifetime sensitivity to cold. So - don't become frostbitten!
By Steve Bonowski
Anymore, it seems like everyone has a climbing list. Those in Colorado seek out the 14ers, the Centennials, the bi-centennials, etc. Others go after the highest point in each of the 50 states and the "mountain gods" go after the 7 Summits. Many HAMS members have been intrigued by Kevin Haight's Western Hemisphere Summits Expedition in which he's tried to climb the highest point in each country of North and South America.
An article last fall in U.S. News caught my attention. It was a short piece on a lawyer from Evansville, Indiana, which is my home state. At the time, he was about 6 or so islands short of setting foot in every country on the planet. Most of these were obscure U.S. owned islands in the South Pacific, one of which is mostly underwater during high tide. I believe the others were obscure French owned islands in the southern Indian Ocean. When he completes these visits, as far as he knows, he'll be the first person ever to physically set foot in every country.
This led to a random thought: what about climbing the highest point in every country on earth? While I don't read every climbing magazine and journal in existence, I've never heard of anyone attempting this feat. Immediately, several more thoughts came to mind. How much money would such an effort cost? How long would it take, assuming one had unlimited funds. Finally, what constitutes a country? Will one have to include every flyspeck island left over from the days of European colonialism?
The last question becomes paramount, assuming some amount of time and money is available. I don't recall that Kevin had St. Pierre & Miquelon islands on his list, or the Falklands, or even Grand Cayman. Yet all could be considered as part of the Americas (most everyone has heard of the Falklands & Caymans and for the record, St. P. &M. are little French owned islands along the south coast of Newfoundland, in eastern Canada).
Safety also can be a major issue. As revolutions and riots go, most of the countries in the Americas are fairly quiet. However, this isn't the case elsewhere in the world. There are some beautiful high peaks in the Elburz Mts. in northern Iran, where I think the Iranian high point is located. But who really wants to visit the land of the ayatollahs? Same deal in Afghanistan, home of the magnificent Hindu Kush range, and home to more warring factions than one wants to imagine. And, we're really not yet into the real hot spots; places like Rwanda, Burundi, Liberia, Somalia, North Korea, and Cambodia. If one starts the quest in peaceful countries, maybe the bad ones will have quieted down in 15-20 years!
My suggestion, for a place to start a list, is with the membership of the United Nations, which at last count was somewhere in the 180s. Also include Switzerland which may not yet be a UN member. In the next issue of Thin Air, assuming the editors approve, I'll try to have this list available, sorted by continent. Finally, I'll play around with my almanac to try and develop an expanded list for the September issue.
In the meantime, feel free to drop your thoughts about the high point fantasy to me at the CMC clubrooms. And no, I don't have the inclination to do something like this anytime soon. Maybe Dick Bass or Gerry Roach ?!
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