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rhondarma082639 · 4 years

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copperbora · 6 years

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A Lesson in Layering: Suffering Scotland’s Spite

Also called ‘that time I was an idiot and got drenched hiking beside bonny Loch Lomond.’ (Or: ‘A Story about Hypothermia.’)

Layering: it’s an art form, which I always think that I am starting to get somewhat good at until I fail spectacularly. The first time this happened, I contracted hypothermia, but thanks to the (mostly) proper action which I took, I didn’t die from my mistake. On this glorious day in Scotland, trekking the beautiful West Highland Way, I made a mistake which could have killed me.

What is ‘layering,’ you non-hikers/outdoorsy people ask? It’s the art of dressing in layers according to circumstances of weather and temperature. The idea is to wear just the right clothing for the current situation which you exist in so that you are neither too hot nor too cold so that you not only stay happy, but you don’t die because your body is too cold (hypothermia) or too hot (hyperthermia/heat stroke.) Again, both conditions can kill you, so it’s important to take care of yourself and get your layering right if you’re in the backcountry where you may be far from help should something go wrong.

Intimidated? The main rules of layering for outdoorsy pursuits are simple - NEVER wear cotton (once cotton is wet it stays wet - Search and Rescue calls it ‘the death cloth’ and there’s a saying ‘cotton kills’ for a reason - it loses 95% of its insulating value when wet, at which point it also conducts crucial body heat away from you) and choose layers which either dry quickly (such as synthetic fibres like polyester,) or retain their thermal properties when wet (i.e. merino wool.) Wet clothing chills your skin, making you cold - in fact, a primary goal of layering is to avoid sweating, since sweat, like any other liquid when chilled, can cause your internal body temperature to drop, thus giving you hypothermia. And don’t think you’re safe just because of summer as more people fall prey to exposure in summertime than in winter because of a lack of preparedness.

And don’t ever get cocky - for example, just because I have a lifetime of backcountry experience, it doesn’t mean that I am safe from mistakes. Don’t ever dare believe that you’re invincible from peril just because of experience, no matter how impressive, because Mother Nature likes to reward such bravado with hard knocks - or death.

My layering on a day when I used my brain - note the saturated face fabric of my Gore-Tex waterproof shell and my sopping wet hair - it was very wet out! I was significantly less clever on the day of my mishap.

Imagine the lush green forests of Loch Lomond - actually, don’t, here’s a picture to set the scene, from the day I screwed up:

Just a nice cruise along the quiet northern end of Loch Lomond.

It had been sort of spritzing all day and the temperature was mild. Fellow hikers all claimed that it was going to really rain at some point, but none of them could agree about what time that it would. With how every other spritz of rain had passed, I turned decidedly derisive of the truth of any forecast. Scotland had already proved that it did whatever the hell it pleased in terms of weather, so I was just going with the flow, but it was about to prove its derision even more. It was on this day that I learned: Scotland doesn’t care about what the weatherman has to say, but occasionally, it does (sort of) do what is predicted, but only on its own terms.

So, it had basically been overcast all day and it didn’t really look like it was going to do much more, despite the small instances of spritzing. I was focused on slaying kilometres and getting to a certain spot on my map, a hill called Cnap Mor, which lays at the very end of Loch Lomond. I didn’t want to waste time by layering up - and this, folks, could be a fatal mistake. It’s always worth your time to take time layering up or down - better to lose a bit of time putting your pack cover on than have wet gear. But, of course, I was trying to slay kilometres, right? I had a long way to go - I was on Day 3, and I needed to get my butt to Fort William, which was still a vast number of kilometres away.

Definitely the right kind of weather for incomplete rain gear. Definitely.

It was near Ardleish, at the top tip of Loch Lomond that I began to fail myself. Here, on the last shore of the loch on the trail the wind started gusting and the rain started pouring. I donned my Gore-Tex jacket and put on my pack cover; believing that the rain would pass, I didn’t don my rain pants or gaiters, and this is where I fucked up. I thought about it, considered it, then didn’t do it.

I’m very conscious that I could have died because of this slip up. I’m very lucky that I was in Scotland, and not some place like the Rockies, where the temperature would have dropped much lower. Scotland’s temps in April were wonderfully mild - ranging most of the trip around 11 °C - but back in the Canadian Rockies where I most often hike, temperatures regularly drop below freezing at night, even in the heat of summer. Even so, I still could have died in Scotland’s mild weather - most people who meet their maker because of hypothermia do it in mild temperatures which are well above freezing, just like what I experienced that evening in beside Loch Lomond.

Not seen: the wind blasting in my face. And the sheep.

So, like an idiot, I hiked on, wanting to slay more kilometres. I didn’t understand that I should have stopped there - it would have been a good place to camp. I remember thinking all day as well as the one before how nice it would be to maybe camp beside the loch, and this would have been the smart thing, but nope, I decided to hike on.

Very quickly, within the hour, I realized that this was a bad idea, but I refused to turn back, wanting to destroy more distance. Water began running over the trail and I started consciously hunting for a place to stop for the night, but there weren’t any good campsites to be found. I dismissed the one likely candidate I found (while still not donning rain pants or gaiters,) due to fears of nearby widowmakers (dead trees or ones looking likely to fall,) which was probably a wise decision, but I was already making a really bad one. So, I hiked.

And so the trail slowly became a shallow river.

And hiked. The day grew old, but I couldn’t find a place to stop and there were no other hikers left on the trail, the Way completely deserted apart from me. I prospected a few more maybe camping stops, but I was getting very tired, I was soaked to the bone, and the only thing keeping me warm was my continued movement. The water running over the trail was three centimetres deep; it was so wet that even my waterproof socks were saturated - something which wouldn’t have happened had I been wearing my rain pants and gaiters. Everything I was wearing was soaked.

The view of tiny Dubh Lochan from the hillside where I eventually managed to make camp. It was the flattest and driest piece of ground which I could find, which wasn’t saying much. Everywhere else the ground was soaked, and it was soaked there too.

Eventually, I thought that I saw a faint trail leading up from the Way and I clambered up the hillside where I found a somewhat flat piece of ground which was to be my sanctuary. I set my tent up in the pouring rain then clambered inside with my Packtowel to mop it dry of the literal puddles which had gathered inside of it during its pitching. Thankfully, my synthetic sleeping bag was fine, as was my Neoair Xlite mat - so were both of my heavier midlayers and my hiking dress. I slowly peeled off my soaked clothes, blessing the fact that the temperature was actually warm enough for me not to instantly freeze despite being in a state of undress, and snuggled into my sleeping bag.

Then, to add insult to injury, my matches and piezo igniter were also soaked, so I couldn’t cook in my tent’s vestibule as I had planned. A hot meal would have been just the thing after so much suffering, but alas, it was not to be. I ate Cliff Bars and hard cheese for dinner instead, with some mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for dessert. I made sure that I ate at least five hundred calories, then, as my brain slowly relaxed out of survival mode and I finally fully confirmed that I was safe from hypothermia, my body dry and warm again, I finally let myself sleep.

Scotland’s creeks and rivers are very well fed.

The next morning, all my clothing which I had worn the day before was still extremely wet. Thus, I donned what would become my leg wear for the entire rest of the trail - my rain pants and gaiters. I never again hiked without them - in this environment, it just wasn’t worth it to have another mishap. That night I intelligently took a hostel room in Tyndrum to dry out my gear and I continued the trail as a much smarter person. I’d learned from my mistake, and I never underestimated Scotland again - from then on, I changed my layering as needed. I eventually just started keeping my Gore-Tex jacket around my waist rather than bothering removing my pack to stow it when I didn’t need it (there were precious few good places on trail to do this,) and I learned how to change my upper layers without taking off my backpack at all. Thus, I kept my layering system quick, and I didn’t get soaked again. I almost never removed my pack cover; I kept myself and my gear dry.

Properly layered and comfortable on the second to last day, at the windy top of the Devil’s Staircase between Glencoe and Kinlochleven.

That night by Dubh Lochan, had I not had a dry shelter, sleeping bag and midlayers the night before, hypothermia could have taken me out - and the most important thing you need to know about hypothermia is that it’s a quiet killer. As your core body temperature drops, your body begins to shiver as it desperately tries to bring its temperature back up - but if your temperature continues to plunge, you eventually stop shivering, stop talking (if you can’t speak it is seriously bad news,) and eventually... you just fall asleep - and without intervention, you never get back up. The human body is incapable of tolerating temperature fluctuations of more than a few degrees, so once its internal temperature wavers, things can go south pretty fast.

The moral of the story - layer your clothing, follow your instincts (I repeatedly thought that I should layer up but didn’t,) and change your layers according to circumstance. I failed to layer up and I paid the price - literally - since my mistake necessitated my unplanned stop in Tyndrum to dry my gear so that I could continue my hike. But, an unplanned stop in Tyndrum was much superior to my unplanned demise (and I ended up eating something other than dehydrated hiker chow for supper in Tyndrum at its divine Real Food Cafe, plus I bought a small delicious hoard of Snickers and Scottish chocolate bars. I also bought new socks, which I promptly got soaked within ten minutes the next day. I digress.)

My sanctuary in Tyndrum; I had this entire room all to myself - it was wondrous! (Not seen: my gear spread absolutely everywhere.)

Thank you for teaching me an apparently much needed lesson about layering, Scotland.

#Scotland #hiking #inclement weather #rain #wind #hike #trek #the west highland way #west highland way #west highlands #Scottish Highlands #WHW #trekking #thruhiking #thruhike #hypothermia #layering #lesson in layering

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