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Summit Fever on Split Mountain
It was early October, and we were looking forward to scratching off another 14,000 foot peak from our list of peaks to climb. Our
destination was Split Mountain, which is located in the Palisade region of the California Sierra Nevada. The climbing party consisted
of my son Sean, Mike (longtime friend and climber), Matt (a friend of Sean) and Tom (a recently acquired friend and climber).
Having climbed several peaks of greater difficulty in the past, I was unconcerned about Split Mountain, and figured that an easy
summit would be the order of the day. Sean begged to differ and expressed concern over climbing above 14,000 feet in October due
to the unpredictable weather conditions. My wife agreed, but their warnings went unheeded. I simply told them that Split Mountain
was not a big deal, and that Sean should get busy organizing his pack.
We embarked on our journey late afternoon, October 3, 2002, and arrived in the small town of Lone Pine that night. Traveling
about 13 miles upslope we discovered a small campsite located at around eight thousand feet, and decided to spend the night there.
From previous experience, I have found that an initial night between seven and ten thousand feet is very useful when it comes to
preventing the undesirable effects of altitude sickness. Laying out our sleeping bags, we prepared for the night. Mike, however,
wanting to catch up on the events of the day utilized his headlamp to read the newspaper before calling it quits for the day.
When the sun arose the next morning, we caught our first glimpse of the surrounding slopes. Mike and I were surprised to see the
amount of freshly fallen snow, but concluded that it was only a light dusting, and not enough to present any difficulties for our intended
climb. Sean, on the other hand, had a different perspective. He took me aside and warned me that although the snow appeared to be
minimal, it could prove to be a significant problem at higher elevations. I responded by telling him not to worry and to just take things
as they come.
destination was Split Mountain, which is located in the Palisade region of the California Sierra Nevada. The climbing party consisted
of my son Sean, Mike (longtime friend and climber), Matt (a friend of Sean) and Tom (a recently acquired friend and climber).
Having climbed several peaks of greater difficulty in the past, I was unconcerned about Split Mountain, and figured that an easy
summit would be the order of the day. Sean begged to differ and expressed concern over climbing above 14,000 feet in October due
to the unpredictable weather conditions. My wife agreed, but their warnings went unheeded. I simply told them that Split Mountain
was not a big deal, and that Sean should get busy organizing his pack.
We embarked on our journey late afternoon, October 3, 2002, and arrived in the small town of Lone Pine that night. Traveling
about 13 miles upslope we discovered a small campsite located at around eight thousand feet, and decided to spend the night there.
From previous experience, I have found that an initial night between seven and ten thousand feet is very useful when it comes to
preventing the undesirable effects of altitude sickness. Laying out our sleeping bags, we prepared for the night. Mike, however,
wanting to catch up on the events of the day utilized his headlamp to read the newspaper before calling it quits for the day.
When the sun arose the next morning, we caught our first glimpse of the surrounding slopes. Mike and I were surprised to see the
amount of freshly fallen snow, but concluded that it was only a light dusting, and not enough to present any difficulties for our intended
climb. Sean, on the other hand, had a different perspective. He took me aside and warned me that although the snow appeared to be
minimal, it could prove to be a significant problem at higher elevations. I responded by telling him not to worry and to just take things
as they come.
Repacking our sleeping bags,
we returned to the city of Lone
Pine where we picked up a
backcountry permit and had
breakfast at a local cafe. After
breakfast, we continued our
travels north to the city of Big
Pine where we turned west
toward the foothills of Split
Mountain.
we returned to the city of Lone
Pine where we picked up a
backcountry permit and had
breakfast at a local cafe. After
breakfast, we continued our
travels north to the city of Big
Pine where we turned west
toward the foothills of Split
Mountain.
Mike’s four wheel drive did a great job negotiating the rough dirt road that led to the trailhead, and we arrived at a small flat
spot on the upper desert slopes of the Owens Valley at about mid morning.
I knew that the climb to the top of Split Mountain involved a low start, but the contrast between the snow capped peak and the
desert sagebrush presented a vivid picture of what was to come. Strenuous work! The guide book only added to this
perception of upcoming hardship by describing the approach as “a poorly maintained steep trail.”
spot on the upper desert slopes of the Owens Valley at about mid morning.
I knew that the climb to the top of Split Mountain involved a low start, but the contrast between the snow capped peak and the
desert sagebrush presented a vivid picture of what was to come. Strenuous work! The guide book only added to this
perception of upcoming hardship by describing the approach as “a poorly maintained steep trail.”
But after a couple of hours working our way up the path, I
formed the opinion that it wasn’t so bad. All’s it took was a slow
and steady pace to get to the lake with plenty of time to spare.
The greatest surprise turned out to be the three or four
climbing parties already situated there. This was unexpected
due to the remote location and the time of year.
Mike and Tom had bivy sacks that required very little clear
space for set up, and this allowed them to find spots fairly
quickly. Sean and Matt having a good sized two man tent,
searched the north end of the lake and found a large flat rock
that proved adequate for their needs. I was carrying a small two
man tent and found a location a few yards away. My site,
however, required the removal of a couple of embedded rocks
in order to make it more suitable for occupancy so I used my
trekking poles for the job and ended up breaking the tip off one
of them. After the lesson in the proper use of equipment, I ate
some dry food and retired for the night.
formed the opinion that it wasn’t so bad. All’s it took was a slow
and steady pace to get to the lake with plenty of time to spare.
The greatest surprise turned out to be the three or four
climbing parties already situated there. This was unexpected
due to the remote location and the time of year.
Mike and Tom had bivy sacks that required very little clear
space for set up, and this allowed them to find spots fairly
quickly. Sean and Matt having a good sized two man tent,
searched the north end of the lake and found a large flat rock
that proved adequate for their needs. I was carrying a small two
man tent and found a location a few yards away. My site,
however, required the removal of a couple of embedded rocks
in order to make it more suitable for occupancy so I used my
trekking poles for the job and ended up breaking the tip off one
of them. After the lesson in the proper use of equipment, I ate
some dry food and retired for the night.
The next morning, I prepared for the day by
downing a couple of pop tarts, and putting a few
small items in my summit pack. It didn’t take long
for the rest of our group to assemble, and all
were off at around 6:30AM. The first couple
hundred feet of elevation gain went well, but
progress slowed substantially when we
encountered loose scree mixed with powdery
snow. This required a balancing act just to stay
on one’s feet. Deep pockets of snow also added
to the difficulties and required jumping from one
rock to another in order to avoid them. Care had
to be taken on every maneuver so as not to jamb
a leg between opposing rocks. I had come across
a climber in the past whose friend had broken a
leg doing just that, and with that in mind, carefully
planned each jump.
downing a couple of pop tarts, and putting a few
small items in my summit pack. It didn’t take long
for the rest of our group to assemble, and all
were off at around 6:30AM. The first couple
hundred feet of elevation gain went well, but
progress slowed substantially when we
encountered loose scree mixed with powdery
snow. This required a balancing act just to stay
on one’s feet. Deep pockets of snow also added
to the difficulties and required jumping from one
rock to another in order to avoid them. Care had
to be taken on every maneuver so as not to jamb
a leg between opposing rocks. I had come across
a climber in the past whose friend had broken a
leg doing just that, and with that in mind, carefully
planned each jump.
As we continued, the gentle slope soon gave way to a steep chute consisting of jumbled rock and
snow. Not having a rope, extreme caution had to be taken at all times. Accumulated snow and ice
were present on nearly every ledge, and a potential fall was always a possibility. The slippery class
three sections near the top were particularly precarious. Tom and Mike were first to exit the
section, and the rest of us joined them shortly after. One of the other climbing parties consisting of
a man and his two sons had already passed us, and were making their way up the northern slope
of the mountain. Six other climbers, whom we had spotted on the way up, ended up turning back
before reaching the top of the cirque.
Under dry conditions the trip to the summit would have been an easy task, but the entire approach
was covered in snow, making upward movement difficult at best. Tom took the lead but after thirty
to forty five minutes of work, decided to turn back. He calculated that the time spent gaining the last
two hundred feet was prohibitive and figured that a night out in the open, which he was not
prepared to do, would be the result of continuing on. Matt after listening to Tom’s reasoning
decided to turn back with him. He had been battling a headache all day, and figured that base
camp would be a much better place to recover. Sean was considering it too, but Mike and I were
not.
snow. Not having a rope, extreme caution had to be taken at all times. Accumulated snow and ice
were present on nearly every ledge, and a potential fall was always a possibility. The slippery class
three sections near the top were particularly precarious. Tom and Mike were first to exit the
section, and the rest of us joined them shortly after. One of the other climbing parties consisting of
a man and his two sons had already passed us, and were making their way up the northern slope
of the mountain. Six other climbers, whom we had spotted on the way up, ended up turning back
before reaching the top of the cirque.
Under dry conditions the trip to the summit would have been an easy task, but the entire approach
was covered in snow, making upward movement difficult at best. Tom took the lead but after thirty
to forty five minutes of work, decided to turn back. He calculated that the time spent gaining the last
two hundred feet was prohibitive and figured that a night out in the open, which he was not
prepared to do, would be the result of continuing on. Matt after listening to Tom’s reasoning
decided to turn back with him. He had been battling a headache all day, and figured that base
camp would be a much better place to recover. Sean was considering it too, but Mike and I were
not.
Above Image shows Red Lake
dwarfed by Split Mountain in
the background.
dwarfed by Split Mountain in
the background.
Sean (left)
and Matt
at dawn
on summit
day
surveying
the
climbing
route.
and Matt
at dawn
on summit
day
surveying
the
climbing
route.
Photo above shows Sean
making his way up the class
3 chute. Adding to the
difficulty is the powder
snow that had fallen in the
last few days.
making his way up the class
3 chute. Adding to the
difficulty is the powder
snow that had fallen in the
last few days.
I agreed that progress had been slow,
and that a bivouac was a real
possibility, but felt confident that we
could endure the night out if
necessary. Summit fever had set in,
and making the peak had become my
primary focus. Split Mountain had to
be conquered, no matter what. I
explained to Sean that coming back
and redoing the climb was not an
option for me, and encouraged him to
finish what we started. I reasoned that
he was in no danger and was
sufficiently dressed for the cold. He
had three layers of fleece and a
complete Gortex shell in his
possession, whereas my outer
clothing consisted of two layers of
fleece and a Gortex shell. Mike, on
the other hand, had only a single
layer of fleece and no
waterproof/windproof shell. This
concerned me.
and that a bivouac was a real
possibility, but felt confident that we
could endure the night out if
necessary. Summit fever had set in,
and making the peak had become my
primary focus. Split Mountain had to
be conquered, no matter what. I
explained to Sean that coming back
and redoing the climb was not an
option for me, and encouraged him to
finish what we started. I reasoned that
he was in no danger and was
sufficiently dressed for the cold. He
had three layers of fleece and a
complete Gortex shell in his
possession, whereas my outer
clothing consisted of two layers of
fleece and a Gortex shell. Mike, on
the other hand, had only a single
layer of fleece and no
waterproof/windproof shell. This
concerned me.
A few months ago, I convinced Matt and Sean to get lightweight (space blanket style) bivy bags just in case of a predicament like this.
Fortunately, they had them along. Those items would prove essential for what was to come. The only other emergency shelter in our
possession was a cheap dime store space blanket that I was carrying. After taking this mental inventory I asked Matt, due to the fact
that he was going down, if he would be willing to part with his bivy sack and headlamp for the sake of Mike. He immediately agreed,
and with those pieces of equipment I figured we were good to go.
Shortly after saying our goodbyes we noticed the two boys coming down without their father. They had failed to make the summit and
were wasting no time in descending. We had a short conversation with them, and learned that they were heading for the notch in order
to wait for their father’s return. Not to be discouraged by their decision to turn back, we pushed ahead, but deep snow continued to
plague us.
Fortunately, they had them along. Those items would prove essential for what was to come. The only other emergency shelter in our
possession was a cheap dime store space blanket that I was carrying. After taking this mental inventory I asked Matt, due to the fact
that he was going down, if he would be willing to part with his bivy sack and headlamp for the sake of Mike. He immediately agreed,
and with those pieces of equipment I figured we were good to go.
Shortly after saying our goodbyes we noticed the two boys coming down without their father. They had failed to make the summit and
were wasting no time in descending. We had a short conversation with them, and learned that they were heading for the notch in order
to wait for their father’s return. Not to be discouraged by their decision to turn back, we pushed ahead, but deep snow continued to
plague us.
Mike in the image below
looks down the class 3 ascent
chute. Notice the steep lip
that you must overcome to
reach the plateau.
looks down the class 3 ascent
chute. Notice the steep lip
that you must overcome to
reach the plateau.
"Things do not always go well when climbing mountains. Below is the account of
how I ended up getting frost bite during a cold night out on Split Mountain."
how I ended up getting frost bite during a cold night out on Split Mountain."
Sometime later, we noticed the
man who had separated from his
boys on his way down. He had
made the summit and was in a
hurry to rejoin them. He told us
that the summit was not far off
and with a bit more work, we too
would be on top. This proved to
be true and in an hour or so, all
three of us were standing on the
summit. Wanting to record our
success, we began digging in the
snow for the summit register, but
were unsuccessful in finding it.
Daylight was vanishing, and a
thorough search was not
possible. A couple of
photographs would be our only
record of success. It was now
4:30PM, and navigating through
the steep sections before
sundown was of critical
importance.
man who had separated from his
boys on his way down. He had
made the summit and was in a
hurry to rejoin them. He told us
that the summit was not far off
and with a bit more work, we too
would be on top. This proved to
be true and in an hour or so, all
three of us were standing on the
summit. Wanting to record our
success, we began digging in the
snow for the summit register, but
were unsuccessful in finding it.
Daylight was vanishing, and a
thorough search was not
possible. A couple of
photographs would be our only
record of success. It was now
4:30PM, and navigating through
the steep sections before
sundown was of critical
importance.
Sean (left) and Mike on the summit of Split Mountain
In the beginning, descending proved more difficult then going up. Downward momentum caused me to sink deeply with nearly
every step. Seeing this, Mike became concerned and expressed a need for increased speed. I agreed and decided to get into a
sliding position in order to distribute my weight more efficiently over the snow. This method picked up the pace substantially and
we began to make good time. Sean did same in some areas, but Mike not having waterproof clothing stayed on his feet.
As we neared the lower area of the summit plateau, Mike sped ahead in an effort to locate the exact point of exit as soon as
possible. Sean became alarmed though, when he saw Mike descending beyond what he believed to be the correct turning
point. Checking his altimeter, Sean discovered that the notch was only seventy feet below his current position. He yelled this
information to Mike and I repeated it, but the noise of the wind confused the message for a hundred and seventy feet. This
error caused Mike to continue his search down slope.
I also believed the notch to be further down, and persuaded Sean to continue another hundred feet closer to where Mike was
searching. Sean followed, but soon began to argue that we should turn around and go back up. I disagreed, and tried to talk
him into descending a little further, but Sean refused. He then pulled out his GPS in order to get a definite fix on our position.
During that time I continued to descend but soon came to an abrupt halt when I saw him heading back up slope. Knowing that
his instrument must have given him the exact way off the plateau caused me to change direction and rejoin him. Mike, who had
been working below, independently came to the same conclusion and quickly climbed back up to join us. All this fiddling around
had cost us though, and the return to base camp was no longer a safe possibility. The absence of daylight, and the steep chute
below had eliminated our options. We quickly found an area where the snow was only about a foot deep, and began to clear it.
The three of us had gloves, but Mike’s had the fingertips cut out for climbing purposes. This made for cold work, but in spite of
it, the three of us were able to clear a four foot by six foot section. We pilled the snow on the windward side, hoping that it would
provide some protection from the wind.
Even at this point I was confident that all would go well. Throughout the day I was not just warm but actually hot, even while
stopped for resting. I felt quite satisfied with our accomplishment and reasoned that a forced night out was just part of the
adventure. Unfortunately for us though, this adventure was turning serious. The wind was picking up, and without the sun, the
natural thermostat was soon set to sub freezing.
Not wasting any time, we unpacked the lightweight bivy sacks and space blanket. Our plan was to fasten the two bivy sacks
together and use the space blanket for extra insulation, but this proved impossible. The size of the bivy sacks and the fastening
systems were not designed for such an arrangement, so plan “A” was scuttled. At this point, we quickly put plan “B” into effect.
Mike and Sean were to use the bivy sacks in the outer more exposed positions, and I was to be placed in the center with the
space blanket. This would enable me to take advantage of the human wind barriers on each side.
Confident with this configuration, I figured the worst would be a sleepless night out. My confidence quickly evaporated though,
as lack of activity and icebox type temperatures began to take their toll. Increasing winds blew snow into every exposed crack of
my clothing, and eventually ripped the space blanket making things even worse. Mike did what he could to help me rearrange
the space blanket, but the wind had the upper hand, and shivering became the only means of maintaining body warmth. Mike’s
single layer of fleece and marginal bivy bag also proved inadequate and he began to shiver too. Sean on the other hand was
doing fairly well. His multiple layers of clothing and bivy sack provided excellent warmth. Good thing, because if anything
happened to him, I would have to answer for it. I had talked him into this whole thing, and any injury to his person would be very
difficult to live down, if ever. Mike and I on the other hand were in for a difficult night out.
every step. Seeing this, Mike became concerned and expressed a need for increased speed. I agreed and decided to get into a
sliding position in order to distribute my weight more efficiently over the snow. This method picked up the pace substantially and
we began to make good time. Sean did same in some areas, but Mike not having waterproof clothing stayed on his feet.
As we neared the lower area of the summit plateau, Mike sped ahead in an effort to locate the exact point of exit as soon as
possible. Sean became alarmed though, when he saw Mike descending beyond what he believed to be the correct turning
point. Checking his altimeter, Sean discovered that the notch was only seventy feet below his current position. He yelled this
information to Mike and I repeated it, but the noise of the wind confused the message for a hundred and seventy feet. This
error caused Mike to continue his search down slope.
I also believed the notch to be further down, and persuaded Sean to continue another hundred feet closer to where Mike was
searching. Sean followed, but soon began to argue that we should turn around and go back up. I disagreed, and tried to talk
him into descending a little further, but Sean refused. He then pulled out his GPS in order to get a definite fix on our position.
During that time I continued to descend but soon came to an abrupt halt when I saw him heading back up slope. Knowing that
his instrument must have given him the exact way off the plateau caused me to change direction and rejoin him. Mike, who had
been working below, independently came to the same conclusion and quickly climbed back up to join us. All this fiddling around
had cost us though, and the return to base camp was no longer a safe possibility. The absence of daylight, and the steep chute
below had eliminated our options. We quickly found an area where the snow was only about a foot deep, and began to clear it.
The three of us had gloves, but Mike’s had the fingertips cut out for climbing purposes. This made for cold work, but in spite of
it, the three of us were able to clear a four foot by six foot section. We pilled the snow on the windward side, hoping that it would
provide some protection from the wind.
Even at this point I was confident that all would go well. Throughout the day I was not just warm but actually hot, even while
stopped for resting. I felt quite satisfied with our accomplishment and reasoned that a forced night out was just part of the
adventure. Unfortunately for us though, this adventure was turning serious. The wind was picking up, and without the sun, the
natural thermostat was soon set to sub freezing.
Not wasting any time, we unpacked the lightweight bivy sacks and space blanket. Our plan was to fasten the two bivy sacks
together and use the space blanket for extra insulation, but this proved impossible. The size of the bivy sacks and the fastening
systems were not designed for such an arrangement, so plan “A” was scuttled. At this point, we quickly put plan “B” into effect.
Mike and Sean were to use the bivy sacks in the outer more exposed positions, and I was to be placed in the center with the
space blanket. This would enable me to take advantage of the human wind barriers on each side.
Confident with this configuration, I figured the worst would be a sleepless night out. My confidence quickly evaporated though,
as lack of activity and icebox type temperatures began to take their toll. Increasing winds blew snow into every exposed crack of
my clothing, and eventually ripped the space blanket making things even worse. Mike did what he could to help me rearrange
the space blanket, but the wind had the upper hand, and shivering became the only means of maintaining body warmth. Mike’s
single layer of fleece and marginal bivy bag also proved inadequate and he began to shiver too. Sean on the other hand was
doing fairly well. His multiple layers of clothing and bivy sack provided excellent warmth. Good thing, because if anything
happened to him, I would have to answer for it. I had talked him into this whole thing, and any injury to his person would be very
difficult to live down, if ever. Mike and I on the other hand were in for a difficult night out.
I looked at my watch a couple of times, but
decided early on not to make a habit of it. I
remember checking the time every few
minutes while spending an uncomfortable
night out on the summit of Mt Whitney
years ago. That constant checking of time
made five minutes seem like an hour. So I
figured I would wait for the emerging sun
as a source of encouragement. In the
meantime, Mike prompted us to breathe
into our clothing and wiggle our toes. He
believed this would enable us to maintain
some degree of warmth and circulation.
The suggestions proved somewhat useful,
but any benefits were short lived. We had
too many holes in our armor, and the wind
found them all. As the night progressed,
the cold continued to work especially hard
on my feet, and because of this, there
came a time when I could no longer wiggle
my toes. This development brought to
mind the possibility of frostbite and I
mentioned it to Mike, but being half asleep
decided early on not to make a habit of it. I
remember checking the time every few
minutes while spending an uncomfortable
night out on the summit of Mt Whitney
years ago. That constant checking of time
made five minutes seem like an hour. So I
figured I would wait for the emerging sun
as a source of encouragement. In the
meantime, Mike prompted us to breathe
into our clothing and wiggle our toes. He
believed this would enable us to maintain
some degree of warmth and circulation.
The suggestions proved somewhat useful,
but any benefits were short lived. We had
too many holes in our armor, and the wind
found them all. As the night progressed,
the cold continued to work especially hard
on my feet, and because of this, there
came a time when I could no longer wiggle
my toes. This development brought to
mind the possibility of frostbite and I
mentioned it to Mike, but being half asleep
he didn’t answer. Toward the end, I too fell asleep, but was shortly awakened by
the dawn of a new day. I was first up, and quickly grabbed my camera to take
some photos, but no camera and certainly no words could capture or describe the
desolation and beauty of the northern slopes of Split Mountain in those early
morning hours. Mike’s and Sean’s occupied bivy bags only added to the
barrenness of the scene.
the dawn of a new day. I was first up, and quickly grabbed my camera to take
some photos, but no camera and certainly no words could capture or describe the
desolation and beauty of the northern slopes of Split Mountain in those early
morning hours. Mike’s and Sean’s occupied bivy bags only added to the
barrenness of the scene.
Photo above shows Mike and Sean still in their bivy sacks as
the welcome warmth of sunrise lights the plateau.
the welcome warmth of sunrise lights the plateau.
Not long after taking the pictures, we
gathered our gear, and began the final
descent to base camp. Doing so brought
new life to my frigid limbs and I began to
feel much better. I calculated that total
success was only a few short hours away.
The warmth of the new day had
encouraged us all. We quickly found the
notch, and began to descend the steep
chute. Progress was excellent and Sean
and I were able to slide down several
sections. Mike followed behind on foot
while taking some photographs. At the
base of the chute, conditions
deteriorated, and the snow seemed
worse than ever. I sank nearly to my
chest a few times and literally had to roll
myself to the surface in order to extricate
the lower half of my body. We finally
reached the edge of the bowl, however,
and were able to look down and see Tom
and Matt working their way up. We quickly
joined them and all returned to camp.
gathered our gear, and began the final
descent to base camp. Doing so brought
new life to my frigid limbs and I began to
feel much better. I calculated that total
success was only a few short hours away.
The warmth of the new day had
encouraged us all. We quickly found the
notch, and began to descend the steep
chute. Progress was excellent and Sean
and I were able to slide down several
sections. Mike followed behind on foot
while taking some photographs. At the
base of the chute, conditions
deteriorated, and the snow seemed
worse than ever. I sank nearly to my
chest a few times and literally had to roll
myself to the surface in order to extricate
the lower half of my body. We finally
reached the edge of the bowl, however,
and were able to look down and see Tom
and Matt working their way up. We quickly
joined them and all returned to camp.
The final trek off the mountain went
well, and the lack of feeling in my feet
made travel pain free. We reached the
vehicle in excellent time, and after
loading the packs, made our way back
to the main highway. From there, Mike
took me directly to Lone Pine hospital
for medical attention. Taken in right
away, the attending doctor confirmed
the diagnosis as frostbite, and
promptly put me on an IV containing
antibiotics and fluids. This was done to
prevent infection in the frostbitten
areas, and to combat dehydration that
was brought on by inadequate fluid
intake during the climb. Tom was with
me during these early stages and
noted all that was going on. The rest of
the group waited outside.
well, and the lack of feeling in my feet
made travel pain free. We reached the
vehicle in excellent time, and after
loading the packs, made our way back
to the main highway. From there, Mike
took me directly to Lone Pine hospital
for medical attention. Taken in right
away, the attending doctor confirmed
the diagnosis as frostbite, and
promptly put me on an IV containing
antibiotics and fluids. This was done to
prevent infection in the frostbitten
areas, and to combat dehydration that
was brought on by inadequate fluid
intake during the climb. Tom was with
me during these early stages and
noted all that was going on. The rest of
the group waited outside.
I thought the worst was over, until I took off my boots and socks and saw the severely blistered toes that were hidden within. I
knew the raised skin was not caused by abrasion because it was not located at traditional wear spots. Tom immediately
recognized the blistered areas as frostbite, and upon hearing this, I suggested that he and Mike check out my medical manual
to see what could be done for immediate first aid measures. After reading the short section on frostbite, they decided that very
little could be done other than splitting up the weight I was carrying. Walking out empty would certainly minimize any further
damage to my feet.
knew the raised skin was not caused by abrasion because it was not located at traditional wear spots. Tom immediately
recognized the blistered areas as frostbite, and upon hearing this, I suggested that he and Mike check out my medical manual
to see what could be done for immediate first aid measures. After reading the short section on frostbite, they decided that very
little could be done other than splitting up the weight I was carrying. Walking out empty would certainly minimize any further
damage to my feet.
Results of freezing temperatures during the night out on Split
Mountain. Blisters are the result of frostbite on the toes.
Mountain. Blisters are the result of frostbite on the toes.
I was hoping for a quick release, but this was not to be. Concerned about gangrene, the doctor admitted me to the hospital for
further observation and treatment. His concern was over my right big toe which had turned dark blue. This information was
relayed to the others, and shortly after, they decided to leave for home. I then called my wife and told her of all that had
happened. Certainly, the call was not good news for her, but she took it well, and had faith that all would turn out well in the
end.
The stay in the hospital was deluxe compared to the previous night out, and the staff was very nice. I learned from talking to
one of the nurses that mountain injuries were not uncommon, and that rescues take place nearly every year. The experience
in the hospital reminded me of how personal people are in small towns. In the morning, my feet were given medicated whirlpool
treatments that helped bring some feeling back into them. Next, it was decided that I be transported to a Kaiser Hospital near
my home. Arrangements were made, and shortly after lunch, I was off. The ambulance ride to Los Angeles went smoothly and
in hindsight, seemed like an-overkill. Late that afternoon I was admitted to the above mentioned hospital where I received
further treatment for the next few days. Thank the Lord no toes had to be amputated.
It has now been over two years, and I have regained only 50% feeling in the six toes that were affected. Most likely, full feeling
will never return. Summit Fever had cost me and I certainly learned a lesson from it. Giving up the summit is always preferable
to risking life and limb. I always knew that, but it is amazing how I could let myself get so carried away with the moment. Summit
Fever is intoxicating for the Mountaineer, and it must be resisted when it comes to taking unnecessary risks. The mountain will
always be there, the question is…….will the climber exercise good judgment so that he or she will be able to climb again?
further observation and treatment. His concern was over my right big toe which had turned dark blue. This information was
relayed to the others, and shortly after, they decided to leave for home. I then called my wife and told her of all that had
happened. Certainly, the call was not good news for her, but she took it well, and had faith that all would turn out well in the
end.
The stay in the hospital was deluxe compared to the previous night out, and the staff was very nice. I learned from talking to
one of the nurses that mountain injuries were not uncommon, and that rescues take place nearly every year. The experience
in the hospital reminded me of how personal people are in small towns. In the morning, my feet were given medicated whirlpool
treatments that helped bring some feeling back into them. Next, it was decided that I be transported to a Kaiser Hospital near
my home. Arrangements were made, and shortly after lunch, I was off. The ambulance ride to Los Angeles went smoothly and
in hindsight, seemed like an-overkill. Late that afternoon I was admitted to the above mentioned hospital where I received
further treatment for the next few days. Thank the Lord no toes had to be amputated.
It has now been over two years, and I have regained only 50% feeling in the six toes that were affected. Most likely, full feeling
will never return. Summit Fever had cost me and I certainly learned a lesson from it. Giving up the summit is always preferable
to risking life and limb. I always knew that, but it is amazing how I could let myself get so carried away with the moment. Summit
Fever is intoxicating for the Mountaineer, and it must be resisted when it comes to taking unnecessary risks. The mountain will
always be there, the question is…….will the climber exercise good judgment so that he or she will be able to climb again?
The note below describes the
conditions of the bivouac:
I figured that our air temperature
based on Tom's readings of “25-28F”
at Red Lake put us at about “15F” at
13,000 Ft. According to a wind-chill
chart, a wind of 15mph, which I
conservatively figured we had, puts
our real life temperature at “minus
11F”, according to the old wind-chill
chart, or "0"F according to the new
chart done recently. Scientists in
Canada who did this research say that
exposed skin at those temperatures
can freeze in 30 minutes or less. Their
research was done near sea level.
High altitude and the effects of less
oxygen make cold impact on the body
even more severe. Men on Mt
Everest say that breathing oxygen
from auxiliary tanks greatly warms the
body. Therefore, lower elevations
with more available oxygen are a
great help to the human body when it
comes to warmth. The Lord was
merciful to us, for as Mike suggested:
"If the temperature had dropped
another ten degrees, the outcome
may have been far more disastrous."
conditions of the bivouac:
I figured that our air temperature
based on Tom's readings of “25-28F”
at Red Lake put us at about “15F” at
13,000 Ft. According to a wind-chill
chart, a wind of 15mph, which I
conservatively figured we had, puts
our real life temperature at “minus
11F”, according to the old wind-chill
chart, or "0"F according to the new
chart done recently. Scientists in
Canada who did this research say that
exposed skin at those temperatures
can freeze in 30 minutes or less. Their
research was done near sea level.
High altitude and the effects of less
oxygen make cold impact on the body
even more severe. Men on Mt
Everest say that breathing oxygen
from auxiliary tanks greatly warms the
body. Therefore, lower elevations
with more available oxygen are a
great help to the human body when it
comes to warmth. The Lord was
merciful to us, for as Mike suggested:
"If the temperature had dropped
another ten degrees, the outcome
may have been far more disastrous."
Deeper Insight:
Conditions were poor for a summit bid on Split Mountain that day, but we decided to continue anyway. I of course
(and I am sure Mike and Sean also) wanted to make it off the summit plateau before sunset, but felt very
confident that if necessary, we could spend the night out without any mishap.
Isn’t that the way it is spiritually at times. Too often, we invest time and energy into some area of our life that is
either outside God’s will, or not within His timing. However, we push ahead anyway, and end up paying a steep
price for our efforts.
When a mountain climber gets summit fever, tunnel vision sets in, and danger signs go unheeded. Summit fever
had definitely clouded my decision making ability that day. And if this were not bad enough, I encouraged my son
Sean to join in, against his better judgment. I had become so driven, that even after making the summit, I failed
to make early use of the instruments that Sean was carrying. (GPS and Altitude Watch)
So often, we get single minded when it comes to our own agenda, and try to get others to join in our folly. We fail
to check God’s Word, the ultimate instrument for guidance, and end up paying the price.
When we get into this pattern, we need to stop and take time out to check the guide book. Only in this way, will
we be able to determine what we should do. His Word will tell us if we should go on, or turn around (repent). If
we fail to do this, unwelcome consequences will certainly come our way. We must remember, Galatians 6:7 “God
is not mocked: for whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.” If we ignore clear warning signs of impending
danger, we can only look to ourselves for blame when things do not turn out well.
And sometimes……., we just need to wait. We should have turned back, and waited for better conditions. Tom,
who did not make the top that day, returned later, and easily made the summit under dry conditions. Isaiah 40:31
tells us that: “they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” We need to remember this verse, when we
are tempted to go forward, when God tells us to wait, or come back later. God’s timing is always best.
Finally, if we are to become fixated on anything, or be driven to the point of summit fever, let us make sure we
are on the right mountain. The base of the mountain is called Calvary. That is where Jesus Christ paid the price
for our sins. We cannot even get on the lower slopes apart from His finished work on the cross. From there, we
need to start up the slopes. It’s a lifetime journey, but summit fever on this mountain is a good thing, because it
leads to a day when we shall be with the Lord forever.
So in the meantime, as we work our way up the slopes, let us be of the same mindset as the Apostle Paul:
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”
Philippians 3:12
Press on fellow traveler, the summit is just coming into view.
Dave French
Conditions were poor for a summit bid on Split Mountain that day, but we decided to continue anyway. I of course
(and I am sure Mike and Sean also) wanted to make it off the summit plateau before sunset, but felt very
confident that if necessary, we could spend the night out without any mishap.
Isn’t that the way it is spiritually at times. Too often, we invest time and energy into some area of our life that is
either outside God’s will, or not within His timing. However, we push ahead anyway, and end up paying a steep
price for our efforts.
When a mountain climber gets summit fever, tunnel vision sets in, and danger signs go unheeded. Summit fever
had definitely clouded my decision making ability that day. And if this were not bad enough, I encouraged my son
Sean to join in, against his better judgment. I had become so driven, that even after making the summit, I failed
to make early use of the instruments that Sean was carrying. (GPS and Altitude Watch)
So often, we get single minded when it comes to our own agenda, and try to get others to join in our folly. We fail
to check God’s Word, the ultimate instrument for guidance, and end up paying the price.
When we get into this pattern, we need to stop and take time out to check the guide book. Only in this way, will
we be able to determine what we should do. His Word will tell us if we should go on, or turn around (repent). If
we fail to do this, unwelcome consequences will certainly come our way. We must remember, Galatians 6:7 “God
is not mocked: for whatever a man sows that shall he also reap.” If we ignore clear warning signs of impending
danger, we can only look to ourselves for blame when things do not turn out well.
And sometimes……., we just need to wait. We should have turned back, and waited for better conditions. Tom,
who did not make the top that day, returned later, and easily made the summit under dry conditions. Isaiah 40:31
tells us that: “they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles;
they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” We need to remember this verse, when we
are tempted to go forward, when God tells us to wait, or come back later. God’s timing is always best.
Finally, if we are to become fixated on anything, or be driven to the point of summit fever, let us make sure we
are on the right mountain. The base of the mountain is called Calvary. That is where Jesus Christ paid the price
for our sins. We cannot even get on the lower slopes apart from His finished work on the cross. From there, we
need to start up the slopes. It’s a lifetime journey, but summit fever on this mountain is a good thing, because it
leads to a day when we shall be with the Lord forever.
So in the meantime, as we work our way up the slopes, let us be of the same mindset as the Apostle Paul:
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.”
Philippians 3:12
Press on fellow traveler, the summit is just coming into view.
Dave French
Rises 14,058 Ft above sea level, and
makes up part of the spectacular eastern
escarpment of the Southern Sierra
Nevada Mountain Range located in the
U.S state of California. A steep gully
divides the center of the peak, and both
gullies meet at the top to make up an
obvious notch known as the split. Thus
the name, Split Mountain. Though there
are several routes to the summit, we
choose the Eastern Approach via Red
Lake. This route requires a four wheel
drive vehicle to access the trailhead, and
the hike up the canyon starts out on the
desert floor and ends at Red Lake. From
there, the route leaves the trail and the
climber must continue cross country to a
steep class three gully that tops out on a
large sloping section that leads to the
summit. Below is an account of our trip to
Split Mountain in 2002.
makes up part of the spectacular eastern
escarpment of the Southern Sierra
Nevada Mountain Range located in the
U.S state of California. A steep gully
divides the center of the peak, and both
gullies meet at the top to make up an
obvious notch known as the split. Thus
the name, Split Mountain. Though there
are several routes to the summit, we
choose the Eastern Approach via Red
Lake. This route requires a four wheel
drive vehicle to access the trailhead, and
the hike up the canyon starts out on the
desert floor and ends at Red Lake. From
there, the route leaves the trail and the
climber must continue cross country to a
steep class three gully that tops out on a
large sloping section that leads to the
summit. Below is an account of our trip to
Split Mountain in 2002.