Hiking North through Washington I tried to focus on the here and now, on the beautiful scenery that I was still immersed in, on my love of backpacking, but my thoughts kept on drifting. I started reflecting on the amazing journeys that I’d been on, and on the future awaiting me when I returned to civilization. All of the existential crises that had been put on hold while I dealt with more immediate concerns like water, food, and shelter, were starting to flood back into those quiet spaces between steps. My vacation was coming to an end.
I looked at the weather forecast and my mood plummeted: 3-5 days of rain were headed my way. The state of Washington has a reputation for rain, and it looked like it was going to try to live up to that reputation. The thought of being cold and wet for days on end was not even a little bit appealing. I’d been there, done that, and it wasn’t a lot of fun for me. Maybe I could figure out a way to take a vacation from my vacation. I was approaching Snoqualmie Pass, which is just a 40 minute drive from Seattle… Surely some of my friends from Seattle could come and rescue me from the rain. I furiously texted everyone I knew, but they already had plans.
Eventually, against my better judgment, I turned to the internet for help and posted to one of the Facebook groups, “Looks like nasty weather for this weekend… I’m trying to coordinate a place to stay with friends, but if that falls through does anyone know any trail angels near Snoqualmie?”
Almost immediately I got a response, “Cool weather and showers shouldn’t be considered “nasty weather.” Sounds like maybe your gear is inadequate, or maybe you’ve just been spoiled by the warm, dry summer we’re having this year…”
Oh internet, why do you have to be like that? I’d chosen to post in a closed forum, one that was usually relatively troll free, and I’d dared to hope that I would get helpful responses. Instead, I got the response that I should have expected from the internet, a response that really irritated me, pissed me off even. What I wanted to do was yell at the internet. Someone on the internet was wrong. I should correct them, right? I grumpily composed my rebuttal to the three inflammatory clauses:
1) “Cool weather and showers shouldn’t be considered ‘nasty weather.'” How, exactly do you define ‘nasty weather’? Do you think that maybe having a nice cozy house with four walls and a roof that you can retreat to anytime you want might modify your definition of ‘nasty weather’, or are you just thinking about the weather that you are going to get at home in Seattle (at 0-520 ft elev.)? Did you actually think about the weather on the trail itself, up in the mountains, and on top of the ridges (at 5000+ ft)? Up in those mountains is where I’m going to be, and the weather up near 5000 ft is the weather that I’m worried about.
Did you know that for every 1000ft of elevation you gain, the outside temperature drops between 3.3F and 5.5F depending on humidity? If the high in Seattle is going to be 61F, then 3000ft higher at Snoqualmie Pass the high will drop to 44F – 51F (a drop of 3*3.3F=9.9F in high humidity, or a drop of 3*5.5F=16.5F in low humidity). Up in the mountains at around 5000 ft the highs will drop to a balmy 33F – 44F (a drop of between 5*3.3F= 16.5F and 5*5.5F= 27.5F relative to Seattle)… Highs of 33-44F, that’s cold not cool, and we’re still talking about the high temperatures for the day, the peak afternoon temperatures, not the colder temperatures that will prevail for most of the day.
When they forecast a 90% chance of showers for the lowlands, take a peek at the radar maps and see what’s happening up in the mountains. Usually the clouds build up into a solid mass in the mountains so they can dump all of their excess rain there before getting to the much more arid eastern part of Washington. A lowland forecast of showers all day usually means a mountain forecast of rain all day… Just compare the annual rainfall for Seattle to the annual rainfall up in the mountains. Those mountains, they get very very wet. Not only is it colder and wetter in the mountains than it is at lower elevations, it also tends to be windier. So if you take the wind chill factor into consideration, the apparent temperatures up in the mountains are even colder.
According to the CDC, hypothermia can occur at temperatures above 40F if a person is wet (from sweat or rain), so I consider prolonged rainy weather with temperatures in the 40s to be hypothermia weather, and while on extended backpacking treks, I consider that to be ‘nasty weather.’ I know that the weather could always be worse (I’ve certain been through much worse) but is there any reason that I shouldn’t consider hypothermia weather to be nasty weather? Go ahead, enlighten me…
2) “Sounds like maybe your gear is inadequate.” Really? Really? Somehow because my definition of ‘nasty weather’ and yours differ, you come to the conclusion that my gear is inadequate? Perhaps you should ask what I have for gear before making a judgment about whether or not it is adequate. Let me share with you a partial list of the gear I have for dealing with cold, wet weather:
- Rain Jacket –Women’s Helium II Jacket
- Wind Jacket – Mountain Hardware Ghost Whisperer
- Rain Pants –Montane Atomic Pants
- Down Jacket – Mont Bell Plasma 1000 Down Jacket
- Synthetic Jacket – Mont Bell UL Thermawrap Insulated Jacket
- Insulated Pants – Mont Bell UL Thermawrap Insulated Pants
- 2 Hats, 2 pair of gloves, and vinyl overgloves for waterproofing
- Big Anges Fly Creek UL2 Tent
- Tyvek ground cloth
- Marmot Lithium 0 Degree Sleeping Bag
- UL Waterproof Pack Cover & everything within my pack is in UL waterproof stuffsacks
Most PCT thru-hikers would consider many of the items I carry to be overkill, but I don’t like to be cold and I pack accordingly. I’ve also had a lot of experience backpacking in cold, wet conditions. I’ve been backpacking in New England, rain or shine, ever since I was a kid, and my 2013 thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail was one of the wettest on record (it rained 50/60 days, and kept raining until I was more than 1000 miles into the trail)… My gear is more than adequate, and I have a lot of experience using it… Even though I am prepared to deal with endless days of rain, snow, sleet, and hail, I’d prefer not to.
3) “Maybe you’ve just been spoiled by the warm, dry summer we’re having this year.” Spoiled?! Now I’m going to go out on a limb here, but if someone’s been spoiled by the weather this year, I’m guessing that it was you, not me. When you’ve been out backpacking for five months straight you get a real up close and personal feel for the weather, and though I’ve been lucky enough to have some nice, warm, dry days this summer, I’ve also had my fair share of cold, wet, miserable days. For instance, last week I got clobbered with torrential downpours and hail three days in a row (they’d predicted 10%, 20%, and 0% chance of rain on those days, respectively)… Is that the warm, dry weather that you think has spoiled me? In case you’re wondering just how often I’ve gotten wet on my PCT thru-hike so far, here’s the list of days that I’ve noted measurable precipitation:
- April- 1, 2, 4, 5, 11, 13, 18, 25.
- May- 7, 8, 9, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24.
- June- 2, 6, 14, 17, 25, 26.
- July- 8, 11, 21, 22, 23, 29.
- August – 10, 11, 12, 13, 19, 20, 23, 30, 31
- September – 1, 2, 3 so far…
Sometimes the cold, wet weather comes with an incredible beauty of its own… The sounds of the forest change, and it can feel like the only things that exists in the world are you, the rain, the trees, and the occasional salamander… It can be incredibly peaceful. That said, most of the storms lately have come with a side of thunder, lightening, hail, fire, and flooding… For many of us hiking this year, the weather has felt more apocalyptic than peaceful… Hiking through Oregon the storms would come and we’d get wet, we’d get hailed on, and then the fires would start… As we headed further north, we got more torrential rains, rains that caused flash-flooding and killed a hiker the day that we were at Mount Hood… If anything, I would say that the weather this summer has traumatized us, not spoiled us… The good weather has been amazing, but the bad weather, it’s often been downright scary.
Now that I’d written my rebuttal I felt a little better. I decided not to post it to the forum because it would just add fuel to the fire of crazy, and I was still hoping that someone might respond to my original question with something helpful. Starting a flame war wouldn’t be helpful, even if it did let me vent.
Eventually there were a couple more replies to my query, most of which were helpful and supportive. The next known trail angels were the Dinsmore’s. Unfortunately, they were too far away, I wouldn’t be able to get to them before the first set of storms hit. I looked at my maps and at Yogi’s guide and came up with a plan to deal with the upcoming storms. I decided that I would take a zero day (hike zero miles) and stay at the hotel in Snoqualmie Pass to wait out the first day of rain, and then the next day and I would hike out to Gold Myers Hot Springs in the rain… After that I hoped that the rain would let up, and I’d get at least one nice day before the rains set in again.
P.S. The weather ended up being cold and wet (as forecast), but the hot springs were absolutely amazing! I got there early in the day and had the entire hot spring to myself all afternoon… I relaxed in the hot water and enjoyed the company of the only other occupants of the cave, two bats. I watched them cuddling and grooming each other and decided that ‘bat TV’ was cute and highly entertaining… Eventually, when I got too hot, I’d dash through the cold rain and up to the little cool-off cabana (complete with a roof!! a very nice thing to have on a rainy day) where I’d eat a snack, drink some water, and watch the rain. ‘Rain TV’ wasn’t nearly as interesting as ‘bat TV,’ so when I got bored with the rain, or cooled off too much, I’d just head back into the hot springs in the cave… It was the perfect way to spend a rainy day (or two)!
The clouds gathered ominously as I headed towards Goat Rocks… Rain definitely was not what I wanted on this section of trail, a section renowned for both it’s beauty and its open, exposed ridgelines.
Even though the clouds had been building all day, it wasn’t until around 4 o’clock that the first drops of rain started to fall. It was a strange kind of rain… the individual raindrops were huge, more like gobs than drops, but there weren’t very many of them, and the sun was still out and shining… It’s hard to complain too much about the rain when you have to block your eyes from the blinding sun in order to see it!
As I was marveling at the absurdity of the weather, my friend Charlie Dayhiker came ambling down the trail towards me. He caught me completely by surprise! I didn’t know he was planning on yo-yoing the PCT (having completed his Northbound thru-hike from Mexico to Canada, he is now attempting to hike from Canada back to Mexico)! I hadn’t seen him in months, not since the late spring snowstorm that clobbered the High Sierras and forced us down into Lone Pine, CA to wait it out. At least the storms brewing here weren’t likely to bring us snow! As we got caught up on the events of the last couple of months the rained stopped, but neither of us had much faith in the weather.
“I think the storm is going to get you as you go North,” he assured me. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure you’re going to get hammered by it as you head South.” We both smiled and eyed the dark clouds that had us surrounded. We’d been watching the weather all day, and between the two of us, we’d probably hiked in excess of 10,000 miles in the last 2 years… we had a lot of experience with mountain weather. Sure, the rain had stopped, but more rain seemed inevitability so I was anxious to get moving. I wanted to find camp and set up before the deluges arrived if that was possible, so I pressed onwards and upwards into the ever darkening mountains.
The skies got grayer as I climbed, and the rumbling thunder in the distance wasn’t sounding so distant anymore… I definitely didn’t trust the weather, so I quickly gathered water for dinner from a nearby stream (I hate having to deal with getting water in the rain: all of my stuff gets wet, my hands get cold/er, and all the streams start carrying siltier runoff) and donned my rain gear.
Moments later, as I followed the trail through the beautiful highland meadows, the skies opened up and dumped some of the heaviest rains on me that I’ve ever seen. It felt like I was walking through a waterfall, but, I have to admit I was feeling a little bit smug. I’d looked at that sky and predicted that I was going to be in a downpour in less than 5 minutes, and sure enough 4 minutes later the storm hit.
Trudging up the hill I saw, through the veil of rain, a group of five backpackers taking cover in a stand of trees above me… I paused to look up at them and my grin and all of my smugness suddenly evaporated. The heavy rain was turning into nasty, whipping, stinging hail. Hailstorms are my least favorite storms because the pea-sized bullets that they call hail hurt when they hammer against you 40 mph! I dashed up the hill to join my soon-to-be new friends in the only shelter around, their small stand of trees… These new friends were feasting on gummy worms and invited me to join them. I happily joined their feast, and gladly took part in the ritual beheading of gummy worms as I waited for the hail to pass.
As a general rule, whenever real hail is involved I try to hike to the nearest shelter and stay there until the hail stops… Partly because the hail stings, but mostly because hail is usually accompanied by severe electrical storms, and it’s best to wait those out. When the hail finally stopped and the thunder faded into the distance, I decided to keep hiking… It looked to me like more storms were brewing, so I needed a place where I could pitch my tent and shelter for the night, and this little stand of trees just wasn’t going to cut it. I constantly scanned the terrain around me as I hiked. If I could find a spot to pitch my tent I would happily call it a day… It was around 40 degrees out (F, 4C) with heavy rains and high winds… the kind of weather I think of as perfect hypothermia weather… Sure I could keep hiking, but I would rather curl up in my nice warm sleeping bag, in my nice dry tent, and eat a nice hot meal! Besides, this was a view I was already really familiar with… A view I’d seen at least a thousand times before… It was the view of the inside of a cloud.
Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing that looked like a suitable campsite… It didn’t help that in heavy rains and with thunder rumbling in the distance I suddenly get very picky about where I camp… I felt like Goldilocks:
1) This spot is too flat! – when it’s rainy the flat spots turn into puddles and have a tendency to flood, so I prefer sites that have a slight (but consistent) slope so the water won’t pool underneath or around me. Flash flooding of creeks and glacial streams is also an issue, so the sandy riverbank sites are out of the running too.
2) This spot is too exposed! – during an electrical storm I don’t want to be the tallest thing around and I don’t want my tent to be either, so the beautiful open meadows are no longer on my happy camping list.
3) This spot is too crowded! – when the weather is bad I need enough room to set up and fully stake out my tent, so I need more space (and fewer rocks, roots, and trees) than I do if I’m just rolling out my sleeping bag under the stars or doing a half-as*ed job of setting up my tent.
4) This spot is too dead! – heavy rains, especially when combined with high winds, make it even more likely than usual that the dead trees will come tumbling down (I definitely don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night with a tree across my tent), so I try not to camp in burn zones (places with fire damage), in areas with heavy beetle damage, or in the fall line of any dead trees.
Nope, I definitely wasn’t running into any campsites that would work. Oh well, it was a good thought. As I rounded the next corner the landscape became much more desolate… On a good day I imagined that it would be phenomenally beautiful, but today it looked bleak and exposed… I was approaching Cispus Pass. The trail was going to be very open and exposed for the next couple of miles, but eventually it would snake down to an official camping area in what was rumored to be a spectacularly beautiful meadow with amazing campsites… There was bound to be a spot there that even Goldilocks would find “just right.”
I eyed the storm clouds suspiciously. The rain had let up again and the thunder was just a muted rumble in the distance, but the clouds to the North were awfully dark. Did I want to attempt to cross the pass in this weather? Not really. I looked carefully around me as I spun in a full circle… There certainly wasn’t anywhere to camp here, and I’d been looking around pretty carefully for the last couple of miles and hadn’t seen anywhere to camp there either… Did I want to backtrack two miles South to find a campsite? Not really, especially since that was the way most of the storm looked to be heading and it was open and exposed in that direction as well.
As I stood there contemplating my options two Southbound (Sobo) hikers approached. “How’s the weather up there, and how long does it stay exposed like this?” I asked. “The weather’s not too bad right now, but it looks like it’s rolling in. It stays pretty exposed for at least a couple of miles. How’s the weather south of here?” they countered. “Well, I got hailed on about 10 minutes ago, and it seems like the weather has mostly been gathering to the southeast all day,” I replied before returning to my contemplations…
At most I had two miles of exposed ridgeline along Cispus pass before I would get to a series of campsites scattered between the river and Goat Rocks. Two miles? As a thru-hiker, two miles was nothing… Well, I clarified to myself, two miles would be somewhere between 30 and40 minutes of hiking if I hustled… I would probably get sopping wet since storms love dumping their load of rain when they hit the ridges, but the distant rumblings of thunder were still getting further away and I hadn’t spotted any lightening at all… I should have a window of at least 30-40 minutes before any more electrical storms rolled in… I might as well get while the getting was good!
Once I’d made my decision I wanted to move quickly to get through the pass before there were any big changes in the weather. I quickly discovered that the trail was a muddy mess; criss-crossed by a series of eroded out ditches where the water from the steep slopes had tried to escape from the highlands. Despite the rough trail and the fact that it was all uphill, I was making good time. About half a mile from the pass, the skies opened up, and I found myself slogging through another torrential downpour. Ugh! I swore that if the rains got much heavier I’d have to call what I was doing swimming and not hiking!
Ping! Ping! Smack! “Motherfu**er!” I grumbled… “Hail!” I was getting hailed on… Again. I almost sprinted to the next clutch of trees… Well, maybe it was really just one tree, but it would provide some shelter from the whizzing hail. It wasn’t far, but by the time I got there I was out of breath and desperately trying to suppress the asthma attack trying to escape from my lungs…. “Dammit,” I thought. One thing I’d learned over the course of my two thru-hikes was that my inhaler was completely useless during severe thunderstorms after the humidity reached 100%… Yet here I was… in the middle of a deluge… Wishing I could use my inhaler… If I’d used my inhaler 20 minutes ago, I would have been fine. Why hadn’t I thought to use it then?
I silently cursed some more. This wasn’t the first time this had happened… You’d think that by now I would remember that I have asthma… That I’d remember that every time I try to run up a hill during a thunderstorm/hailstorm it triggers an asthma attack… Well, at least I remembered the disaster that repeatably results if I try to use my rescue inhaler during those situations… Emergency drugs in aerosol cans have some definite drawbacks! I rested under the tree and watched the bouncing hail as I carefully regained control of my lungs… Perhaps I shouldn’t hustle quite so much… I may be a thru-hiker, but I’m an asthmatic thru-hiker, and thunderstorms (especially the ones that come with torrential downpours) are repeatably a problem for me… I focused on nice slow breaths… in through my nose, out through my nose… In through my nose, wait a sec, out through my nose… Until my lungs decided it was ok to stop spasming…
By the time the hail stopped my lungs were ok again, and I made a new deal with them… I wouldn’t go more than 3 or 3.5 mph up the hill, and they wouldn’t spasm anymore… It was still a solid wall of rain out there, but as long as it was done hailing and there was no sign of an electrical component to the storm, I wanted to keep hiking. No more running though… Maybe this time the “no running during thunderstorms” rule would stick and I’d be able to avoid putting myself in this situation in the future.
Though it felt like an eternity, I only rested under that tree for a couple of minutes before continuing on. Despite my new, slightly slower pace, I easily made it to the top of the pass 5 minutes later and didn’t have any more problems with my asthma. There was no lightening, no thunder, and nowhere to camp anywhere in sight. There was, however, a group of 5 backpackers huddled together in a small copse of trees at the top of the pass.
“You’re completely drenched!” They exclaimed as I approached. “Yeah,” I confirmed, “it’s pretty wet out here, and the hail is keeping it interesting.” “Come and join us for a bit,” they insisted as they shuffled their huddle around to make room for me. It was surprisingly dry in their copse of trees. “Did you see a group coming up behind you? They’re with us.” I knew exactly who they were talking about and told them about the earlier hailstorm, the gummy worms, and the progress their friends were makings, “They were probably half a mile behind me when the second hailstorm rolled through, a bit more than that now, but somebody in bright yellow rain gear is fast approaching.”
“Oh man!! Those guys must be bummed. A couple of them don’t have any raincoats or anything!” I was absolutely horrified, a backpacking trip, in Washington state, with no rain gear? And then caught in the same storms I’d been caught in… They must be sopping wet and cold. I wondered if I had extra rain gear that I could give them… I did have an extra raincoat, but it was an XS, which I was pretty sure wouldn’t fit any of them. “How come they don’t have raincoats?” I blurted out. I couldn’t help but worry that they were getting hypothermic! “Well, I’m not sure about them, but I just forgot mine at home. All I have is this hoody, so I figure we’ll just hang out here until the storm passes and then we’ll head out again.”
I looked out at the clouds blowing around us and the rain that just wouldn’t stop, “I’m not sure that it’s going to stop raining anytime soon, but I am sure that it’s going to get colder and darker, so I think I’ll get a move on,” I said through almost chattering teeth. I was getting cold just standing around, I needed to either get moving, or to get into my nice warm zero degree (F) sleeping bag.
The rain definitely hadn’t let up at all, but it felt good to be moving again, and to be going downhill instead of uphill. Below me, below the clouds, I could see vibrant green meadows and tons of rushing water. Beside the nearest river there were four tents set up in a meadow… I desperately hoped that they hadn’t been forced to camp there because the river had flash-flooded… With electrical storms threatening, that was the only reason I could think of for camping in an exposed meadow like that. As I approached it became clear that the storm was causing lots of erosion damage to the banks, but that the river was still crossable. I breathed a sigh of relief, and crossed it without a problem. Clearly the tenters in that meadow had a different set of campsite criteria than I did.
Going downhill I wasn’t generating nearly as much heat as I had going up, so I was getting colder and my desire to find a campsite was getting stronger and stronger with every step. Maps and cell phones don’t get along well with rain, but I was tired of just hoping to stumble onto a good campsite, so I decided to check my phone. I crouched over it, trying to protect it from the rain, as it slowly acquired satellites and figured out my GPS coordinates. There was a campsite in just 0.2 miles!! I shoved the phone away and set off into the rain with renewed energy. Soon I would be warm and dry in my cozy little tent.
“Hmmmm…” When I got there I found that I wasn’t the only one stopping early to try to get out of the storm. There were already three tents set up in the little campsite. Even though it was a little crowded I decided to poke around a bit. There was a smattering of trees, a waterfall nearby, and it looked like there might even have a nice view if the storm ever decided to clear out. All the flat spots were taken, which suited me just fine. The tents set up in those spots were already in puddles and the only signs of movement were the muddy hands that periodically reached out under the flaps of their tents in a futile attempt to dig ditches to drain the growing puddles that had them surrounded. The resulting moats seemed to effectively keep the occupants inside their tents even if they didn’t keep the water out. I never did see the people attached to those hands.
Eventually I found a spot that met all of my criteria. The only downside to the spot was that I would be pitching my tent less than 3 feet away from a tent full of strangers… Normally I try to give myself and everyone else more privacy than that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I was close enough that I could hear everything that they were saying inside their tent, but the din of the rain on their tent fly made it so they had no idea I was out there. “Hi, I just wanted to let you know that you’re going to have a new neighbor.” I shouted to be heard over the rain.
I quickly pitched my tent and scurried inside. Sure, I should make dinner before going to bed, but my zero degree sleeping bag was calling to me… besides, I could make dinner later. Right now I was going to luxuriate in the puffy goodness of my sleeping bag. As I lay there, in my sleeping bag, I listened to the rain ping against my tent and to the incessant laughing and giggling coming from the two women in the tent next door. I couldn’t help but smile as I listened. Laughter is infectious, even when you have no idea what the laughter is about… As a solo hiker, laughter wasn’t something that I heard very often… Laughter is something that you do with friends, it’s something that you share, it’s not something that you tend to do when you are hiking alone through the woods… I daydreamed about taking family and friends on backpacking trips with me, about the shared moments and laughter that would result, and despite the rain, I was incredibly happy to be exactly where I was.
Eventually the sun began to set, the rain slackened, and the rumblings in my belly convinced me that it was dinner time. As I prepared dinner from the safety and warmth of my tent I heard the unmistakable sound of hikers trudging through the rain at the end of the day. The two groups of 5 that I’d seen earlier had coalesced into a group of ten soggy, miserable hikers still pushing towards a distant camp (2.5 miles away). It was already 7:45 pm, so there was no way that they’d get there until well after dark. I remembered how much they were struggling 3 hours ago and was glad that I decided to change my plan and cut my day short. The wet and beleaguered hikers trudging off into the night gave me flashbacks to some of the backpacking trips of my youth… the ones my dad had called “character building”… the ones that were cold, wet, and interminably long… the ones where the hours dragged on and on and on… Backpacking can be a brutal sport at times, how is it that we come to love it despite those long miserable days? Why is it that decades later when I asked myself the simple question, “If I could do anything in the world right now, what would I do?” the answer had been, “I’d hike the PCT!”
The next morning I awoke to a breathtakingly gorgeous day and one of the most beautiful stretches of trail on the PCT. As I hiked across the sparkling white snowfields and the rough-hewn ridges with the sun on my face and the wind at my back I was at peace with everything… At peace with myself… at peace with the weather… at peace with the world… I took a deep breath and looked around… It was just me, the mountains, the rocks, and the sky… This was why I endured all of those long, cold, miserable days and kept coming back for more… I did it because even on those really long, hard days there was always something for me to learn or discover about myself or the world around me… I did it for the days that were filled with wonder, joy, peace, and light… I did it because I loved it all!
P.S. Did you know that thunderstorm associated asthma is a known thing? I didn’t, but after 2 thru-hikes I’d figured out that certain weather patterns triggered my asthma attacks. Now I use my rescue inhaler about 20 minutes prior to the peak of those storm, which makes all of the difference in the world! Though it’s easy to find the research showing that other people experience thunderstorm associated asthma too, it’s been much harder to find information about why my inhaler ceases to function properly at the very moment when I need it most. Part of the problem is that aerosol inhalers are designed to be used at room temperature (68-77F, 20-25C), and I’m definitely using my inhalers outside of that range when I’m doing a thru-hike, but I think the biggest problem during the thunderstorms is either the pressure difference between the contents of the canister and the contents of my lungs or the 100% humidity… The problem I end up having with the inhaler is that the ejected plume from the inhaler feels like it burns my lungs and it triggers even more severe bronchiospasms. If I fire the inhaler into the air instead of into my lungs, the ejected plume extends for 3 feet before dispersing instead of the more typical 4-6 inches… So, in the case of my thunderstorm-related inhaler issues either the plume velocity has gone up or the particle dispersion rate has gone down or maybe both. The big question is why? What’s different about thunderstorms than the other weather conditions that I deal with on the trail? Why is it only a problem during torrential downpours? Why is it only a problem during the peak of the storm?
As I hiked I kept thinking about the ideal gas law, PV=nRT. I was dealing with the expansion of gases, the answer had to be hidden in there somewhere, could I derive it from first principles?… What’s changing in the thunderstorm? Thunderstorms come with severe low pressure areas… At sea level, fair weather is predicted by a steady barometric pressure of ~102kPa, and a thunderstorm might drop that atmospheric pressure by 3kPa… would that be enough to cause the problem? No, that didn’t seem likely since I’ve successfully used my inhaler at high altitudes (I used it on Kilimanjaro when I was at 15,000 ft elevation where the air pressure is only 57kPa). For this incident I was at an elevation of 7000 ft, which has a normal atmospheric pressure of 78 kPa. What else was different? Well, the humidity… It seemed like the torrential downpours were required for the inhaler to fail so annoyingly. Was 100% humidity the problem? What does the humidity do? As the number of water molecules goes up, the number of molecules of air goes down, so, the n in my PV=nRT goes down when the humidity goes up, was that it?
I hypothesize that in the failure condition the linear velocity of the spray increases and results in a greater plume distance prior to dispersion (3ft vs 6inches). Now all I needed were some equations and I’d be happy… I searched the internet high and low and eventually found much of what I was looking for in a book called Inhalation Aerosols: Physical and Biological Basis for Therapy edited by Anthony J. Hickey, which gives the equatios that directly link the pressure differences between the inside and outside of the inhaler canister with linear velocity.
I further hypothesize that the 100% humidity is crucial to the failure condition. Using Rault’s Law and Dalton’s law, the vapor pressures within the inhaler can be determined based on the solvents used and the mass of the drugs/surfactants. Dalton’s law can then be used to determine the impact of humidity on the pressure outside of the canister. In the case where 100% humidity is achieved, the air is considered to be saturated with water for that temperature and pressure. How would that impact the rate of expansion/evaporation of the medicated droplets and solvents in inhaler’s plume? My research seemed to suggest that the droplet size was key to the efficiency of my inhaler.
I was happy to finally find some of the equations that I could use to model the physics of my inhaler, but what I really wanted for now was a simple rule that predicted the failure condition for my inhaler that I could share with other people. Could I come up with a home experiment that would help me determine whether it was the changes in pressure associated with the storm and the linear velocity that caused the failure, or if it was the 100% humidity? Are there times that I experience 100% humidity other than in middle of thunderstorms with torrential downpours? Suddenly it dawned on me… I do that all the time… I absolutely love hot showers when I’m in civilization… I turn the shower on, close the bathroom door, and step into my saturated solution of water and air… The temperature will be much higher than it is in a thunderstorm and the atmospheric pressure will be much higher, but the high humidity? That I can model at home! If I try to discharge my inhaler in the shower will it generate the characteristic 3 foot plume that I associate with the failure condition? What do you think? I guess I’ll find out the next time I take a shower :)
Rain… On the AT, it rained 50 of my first 60 days on the trail, and I developed a whole new concept of the extent and variability of rain… It misted, it sprinkled, it drizzled, it rained, it poured, it flooded, and it was wetter than I could have ever imagined. Even though it hasn’t rained on me as much on the PCT as it did on the AT, I’ve still managed to see my fair share of rain… And the state of Washington has reputation to uphold… A reputation for rain!
West coast weather (and rain) has been very different than what I was used to on the East Coast… Here are my thoughts about the regional differences in rain so far:
East Coast Rain: Heavy rain that rolls in and hangs out for a while… Maybe a day or two… Maybe a week or two… And during that time you never catch a glimpse of the sun. A week or two later, after the rain stops, things might start to dry out… If you’re lucky, you’ll dry put by the time you get to Maine!
California Rain: A light mist, making a pathetic attempt at being real rain… Often when the rain finally appears it is just intermittent sprinkling, or maybe light rain/ice pellets that completely evaporate within 5 minutes. Usually the storm doesn’t last more than a few hours, and things dry out quickly afterwards (by the end of the day, if not before).
Oregon Rain: Fire, what they really mean when they forecast rain in Oregon is fire. The thunderstorms move in, dump torrential downpours on you, and you get a side of lightening and hail. The water then evaporates quickly, making you think that you’re in the clear, but the lightening leaves hundreds of wildfires and felled trees in its wake. The fires may last for months, and leave you choking on their smoke forever!
Washington rain: TBD. So far Washington rain seems to be a cross between Oregon Rain, and East Coast rain. It often comes with a side of lightening, hail, and fire, but the moisture and dampness seems to want to hang out and things take forever to dry out again after the rain stops)…
“Shelter, find shelter!” the panic prone portion of my brain screamed at me. I was up on an exposed ridge and a massive thunderstorm was coming! Thunder rumbled in the distance as I put on my rain gear and checked my maps. Could I get down off of the ridge before the thunderstorms got here?The short answer was no. F***!
In any other weather I’d love to be on this gorgeous ridge in the wide open meadows dotted with conifers, enjoying the views of Mt. Shasta off in the distance, but it definitely wasn’t where I wanted to be during a thunderstorm!
As the rain started to pick up I saw a flash of lightening dart from the clouds behind me down into the hills. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one…” Crash! Boom!
The storm was way too close for comfort already! I broke into a jog… I didn’t think I could get entirely off of the ridge before the storm got here, but maybe I could get to Grouse Gap Shelter? It was less than a mile away…
Suddenly it started hailing, “Hail no!” Hail meant that the thunderstorm was no longer behind me, I was right in the middle of it! I wasn’t going to make it to Grouse Gap Shelter. I needed to find someplace to wait out the storm right now! I stopped and peered through the rain and hail, the trees ahead of me were all loners… No more than one or two isolated trees in the open field. I didn’t want to be there… I didn’t want to be the tallest thing around, and I didn’t want to be huddling at the base of the tallest thing around…
There was a road above me, but it was at least as open and exposed as the trail. I looked behind me, about 100 yards back was a stand of 10-15 trees… Not ideal, but probably my best bet.
“Woah!” Lightening arced halfway across the sky in front of me, finding the ground (or a tree) over by Grouse Gap… The clap/crash of thunder echoed around me as I bolted south, back up the trail, and into the relative safety of the small stand of trees.
Though the trees did nothing to protect me from the torrential downpour and the hail, at least they meant that I was no longer the tallest thing around… I was in the middle of the stand of trees, not near the top of the slope, not near the edge of the trees… I wanted to maximize the chances that lightening wouldn’t hit me directly!
I was cold and tired, and didn’t want to stand as I waited out the storm, so I looked around my clump of trees and at the sopping wet ground littered with hail that surrounded me. Normally (puddle or no), I’d just plunk down on the ground, but in a lightening storm? No… I wanted some protection from ground currents in case lightening struck nearby, so I had to find a different solution… Eventually I decided to sit on a boulder. It was also wet, so it was far from being perfectly electrically isolated, but it was much better than sitting in a puddle. I sat on my rock, if there were any ground currents they’d go from my butt to my feet, and bypass my heart… I’m not sure how pleasant it would be if lightening struck nearby, but I’d probably survive it. In the meantime I was still getting wetter than I wanted.
In a stroke of brilliance I decided to create a makeshift shelter by pulling the top of my pack cover up over my head and propping it out with my trekking poles… Finally I had shelter from the rain and the hail.
As the lightening continued to strike all around me I was glad that my boulder was sort of like a chair… I knew from my hike of the AT that trees usually fall relatively slowly, so if lightening did strike one of the trees in my clump, I’d be able to jump up and get out of the way before it fell on me.
With my makeshift shelter in place, I was able to pull my cell phone out without it getting completely soaked. My parents were supposed to meet me that evening at the intersection of the trail and the next paved road… I wanted to let them know I was going to be later than I thought because I had to wait out the storm, and I also wanted to make sure that my mom wasn’t going to try to hike out and meet me. I didn’t want her out in this weather!!! Unfortunately I didn’t have cell service… I hoped that my parents could see the storm from wherever they were and that mom and dad would stay safely inside their car (those metal boxes come in handy every now and then).
After what felt like an eternity the storm finally let up, the hail passed, and even though I continued to hear thunder rumbling in the distance, I no longer saw any flashes of lightning… I slowly got up and peered out from my clump of trees… The sky was still dark, and it looked like more thunderstorms were coming, but the current storm had wound down to a drizzle…
I was afraid to leave my clump of trees and head back into the open meadows of the ridge, but I definitely didn’t want to be up here when the next round of thunderstorms rolled in, so I took a deep breath and headed out.
I was excited as the trail wound around the corner and headed down into the woods (I was no longer on the exposed ridge) until I started to smell smoke… From the next clearing I looked down into the valley and saw a plume of smoke rising up… It suddenly occurred to me that each and every one of the lightening strikes that I saw from the ridge had probably struck a tree… And it was fire season here in Southern Oregon… Oh sh**!
During the thunderstorm I had wished that the trail had been going down into the cover of the trees… Now, with the threat of fire, I longed for the open, exposed meadows. I know that hotshot had said that uphill was bad in fires, but I wanted to be able to see where the fires were, and how fast they were moving!!
Being in the woods, knowing that there was a fire, smelling the smoke, and not being sure where the fire was… Scary as f***ing heck!
As I continued to descend the smell of smoke grew stronger and stronger… The trail was bringing me towards the fire and not away from it! (Insert more expletives of choice here). As I got to the intersection for grouse gap shelter the source of the plume of smoke became clear… A tree about 100 yards below the shelter had been hit by the lightening strike I saw earlier. I stopped there… This was a decision point…
Should I go down and investigate the fire? Should I call it in? Was anybody else there? I decided that my safety needed to come first, I wasn’t going to intentionally move closer to the fire! I took a screenshot of my GPS coordinates and decided to call my parents first, to let them know that I was ok (in case they could see the fire) and to let them know I was going to be even later than I thought because now I needed to call in a fire.
“Hi mom and dad, I’m ok, but I need…” The line was bad and it started breaking up… “What?” I kept hearing them say “what?” on the other end… “I’m ok.” “I’m ok…” The line went dead… So much for warning my parents and calling 911 to report the fire… My cell phone coverage wasn’t good enough.
I had the GPS coordinates of the fire, and a landmark, the grouse gap shelter… Now I just needed to get to safety and find cell phone service so that I could call the fire in… I was at the intersection of the trail and a dirt road… Should I take the dirt road, which headed back up to the top of the ridge, or should I take the trail to the paved road a few miles down the hill where my parents were expecting to meet up with me?
I ended up deciding to take the trail… If there were more fires I could always bushwhack either uphill or downhill to one of the dirt roads, but the trail was guaranteed to lead me to my parents and the safety of a car… I took a deep breath and plunged back into the woods…
The wafts of smoke in the woods were absolutely terrifying… I kept remembering lines from “young men and fire,” which I’d listened to on long car rides when I was a kid:
“I kept thinking the ridge-if I can make it. On the ridge I’ll be safe” – Rumsey (Young Men and Fire)
As I remembered the story from my childhood everybody died (not actually true, 2 people survived)… Until this moment, forest fires had mostly been a theoretical thing… Now it was suddenly the nightmare from my childhood… I was running through the woods trying to make it to the proverbial ridge (my parents car) before the fire got me…
I was going to be ok. I’d seen the fire, it was small, and it was moving slowly. This wasn’t the fire from the book… This wasn’t the fire from my childhood nightmare… I was going to be ok…
As I hiked (maybe I jogged a bit) through the smoky woods… I was a little kid again… I just wanted my mommy and daddy to make everything ok… And they would… They were here… Just three miles away… Just two miles away… Just one mile away… Just half a mile away…
When I got to the paved road my parents were there. They couldn’t see the fire from where they were. They were just excited to see me… As I approached mom she gave me a hug and said, “are you ok?”
When you’re not really ok that question coupled with a hug is the hardest thing in the world… I burst into uncontrollable sobs as my parents hugged me… It was ok, I was going to be ok. It was only when I got to the car and my parents hugged me that I realized I hadn’t actually been sure that I would be ok, but now I knew… I was finally safe… The fire wasn’t going to get me.
“I need to report the fire,” I explained to them… We needed to get cell service and report the fire… I also wanted to head back to the gap in case there were thru-hikers right behind me that needed help…
As we drove up the hill my parents and I saw the plume of smoke rising up from below Grouse Gap Shelter… I needed to see it, I needed for them to see it… It wasn’t just my childhood nightmare that had panicked me… It was real…
We called 911 to report it, and I decided that I wasn’t going to hike the next day, “hail no!” I didn’t have to hike in another thunderstorm… I needed a day off! After dragging my poor parents to the ER for 4 1/2 hours the previous day to deal with my nose (verdict==antibiotics and a slightly deviated septum), and then dragging them to a forest fire complete with a phone call to 911, I wanted a nice, pleasant day with them… A day without drama… A day of relaxing… A day of winery tours in Southern Oregon… That was what we needed… A day of *real* vacation!
“Mreh,” I mumbled and swatted at whatever had just landed on my face. I was all curled up and cozily sleeping in my beloved zero degree sleeping bag under the stars. Even though I wasn’t quite awake yet my brain was turning its gears as another thing landed on my face. This time when I swatted at it my hand came back wet. I knew what this was! It was rain! Barely half awake, I rolled over and quickly stuffed everything into my backpack and three my pack cover over it.
Considering I was in Southern California, in the Mojave desert, and the weather forecast said that there was a 0% chance of rain for each of the 10 days in the forecast I figured it was probably just one little cloud misting on me and would blow by quickly. I didn’t mind getting a little damp as long as all of my stuff (especially my electronics) was going to be safe, secure, and dry.
As I lay back down I looked up at the sky, the moon and some stars were still visible, but clouds were definitely moving in. Some bigger droplets fell on my face. I checked my watch, it was 2 am, and I was definitely starting to get rained on. Setting up my tent still seemed like a lot of work, so I just pulled out my tent fly and rolled myself up in it figuring that it would keep both me and my down sleeping bag plenty dry.
At that point I still didn’t believe that it was really going to rain. I’d started trusting southern California’s weather forecasts, had started to trust that the low humidity over the desert was a cloud killer. I had come to terms with the fact that a 20% chance of rain meant that I was going to get soaked, but 0% chance, that should mean that I’d stay dry!
As I lay curled up in my rain fly shroud the winds began gusting and moisture continued to drip from the sky. With temperatures in the low 40s or upper 30s I couldn’t afford to let my sleeping bag get wet. *sigh* This was not just one poor misguided cloud weeping at its desert fate, this was an actual storm!
Until that moment I’d been able to make all of my rain preparations without ever really waking up or getting out of my sleeping bag, but as soon as I came to the conclusion it was a storm and not a tiny misguided cloud I was out of my sleeping bag and setting up my tent.
As the winds whipped around me I quickly scooted my sleeping pad and sleeping bag into the tent before staking it out, erecting it, and throwing the rain fly up. It was so windy at that point that I put rocks over the stakes/bottom corners of the tent to help anchor it before quickly scooting into my tent to ensure that it wasn’t going to become a giant kite.
As I crawled back into my tent I could hear the wind howling around it and the rain slamming against it. I threw a bunch of heavy stuff into the bottom my tent to help anchor it down and put the rest of my stuff on the windward side to help buffer against the winds even more.
It had been less than five minutes between when the first drop of water hit my face and when I crawled back into my sleeping bag after getting my tent set up. I was impressed with my half asleep self, and I wondered if the tent was overkill… It was Southern California after all, And I was sure it wasn’t going to rain… At least not much.
The other person cowboy camping nearby heard the commotion I made, realized it was raining and set up their tent as well, so our little camping area was full of excitement at 2 am! As the night progressed the excitement didn’t end. Temperatures dropped, wind speeds increased, ice started mixing in with the rain, and people’s tents started blowing over.
Though my tent was getting whipped around by the wind and making lots of noise, it held it’s ground, and didn’t collapse or lose any stakes. Throughout the night, however, there was intermittent swearing as other people’s tents lost the battle against the wind and collapsed on top of their occupants.
It seems like a lot of people on the PCT cowboy camp (just sleeping out under the stars without a tent) most of the time since we are in the desert and the chance of precipitation is so low. As I started to get used to the desert I started to join the people cowboy camping.
For me the real appeal of cowboy camping is the night sky in the desert, which is absolutely phenomenal! Since the best time to view the stars seems to be well after hiker midnight (sunset), when I pitch my tent the only time I get to see the full night sky is when I get up in the middle of the night and inevitably have to make a bathroom run. When I cowboy camp every time I wake up I can just look up and stare at the stars. Since I often have insomnia this means that I get to look at the stars a lot, which I absolutely love…
Though getting rained on in the middle of the night is not awesome, I expect that the joy of star-gazing from my sleeping bag will eventually tempt me to continue cowboy camping! If I ever wake up with a rattlesnake curled up on my sleeping bag, however, I expect I will be permanently cured of my cowboy camping habits!
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I awoke to the pitter patter of rain on my tent. “I’m not coming out until it stops raining” I announced to the universe and anyone else that may have been close by. It was my fifth morning on the PCT and this now meant that it had rained on 4 out of the first 5 days of hiking in the Southern Californian desert. This just wasn’t supposed to happen. Up until this morning it had been kind of funny that a rain cloud was following me around, and I appreciated that it was good for California, which has been having a massive drought. This morning, however, I was a bit cranky about it.
I gently reminded myself that this was not Virginia, that it was not the Appalachian Trail, and it was not going to rain 50 out of the first 60 days on the trail.
It shifted from a light rain to a misting fog as I clambered out of the tent and packed it up, sopping wet yet again. One of the good things about the rain was that it had been a much warmer night than the night before (it had dropped down to 20F causing water bottles and condensation to freeze at mount Laguna the night before) and I’d slept much better.
By mid-day I’d hiked out of the fog and into the sunny, shadeless Californian desert. Unlike the rain and fog, which felt familiar to me, the long treeless expanse of the desert was definitely going to take some getting used to. At least it was gorgeous!
As my rain cloud dissipated, the Californian desert revealed endless spectacular views and even though there wasn’t much vegetation, the vegetation there was seemed to be in bloom!
I think I can get used to this!