I'm back a failure, and full of shame.
Well...i'm back.... I made it 57 out of 211 miles due to illness. Here's what happened, bonus points if you can tell what the illness was from my symptoms. (That's you super medic Welderguy)
Day 1- I arrive in Yosemite valley at 0500. There is already a line of more than 6 people for the supposed 4 daily wilderness permits. I wait just in case. No luck at the the first opening. A few hours later they mention cancelations. I got lucky and snagged one but it only allowed me to go 6 miles into little Yosemite valley. It was afternoon anyone. I stuff my face with one last meal and head out. The hike out of the valley was strenuous. I made it to the valley and set up my camp. Oddly enough a guy nearby recognized my hammock and said "Hey you're John Smith (My fake Facebook name), the one stirring up all the **** about guns!" Then he proceeded to criticize me about guns being bad. Can you believe it? He really recognized me from the gun flaming thread on the JMT page.
Day 2- I wake up early and start hiking. I start feeling congested, slight headache. I hope i'm not getting sick. I made good distance and set up camp. It was a rough night with hail, lightening and thunder. I toss and turn all night feeling worse.
Day 3- I wake up sure i'm sick. Bad headache, death rattle in my congested chest. I believe I have the flu and push through determined to finish this damn thing and not come back a failure. I make it to Tuolumne Meadows, last chance to call for a pick up and back out. Nope. Keep going. Hooah.
Day 4- I push through and make it over Donahue pass. At the top I start coughing up blood. I feel as if my eyes are going to pop out of my skull and shoot off the cliff. Splitting throbbing headache. I start getting concerned I might have Hantavirus, which runs rampant up there, and my Sawyer Squeeze filter does not filter out viruses. I make it over the pass and set up camp. I spend a sleepless night in agony, I take my Vicodin, which doesn't even touch the pain. For some reason night time is worse than the day.
Day 5- I wake up. It's unbelievably worse. I'm tired. Disoriented, almost drunk. Can barely hold myself up and walk straight. I feel like I might start having diarrhea and vomiting. I realize I must make a decision. Stay and hug a water hole some I can combat the hypovolemia sure to come from the flu, possibly ending in SAR helo rescue, or try and hike out in a hurry. I decide to hike, mostly because the congestion clears up a lot when I stay moving. I start making my way out to the nearest road/ranger station (which ended up being 23 miles hike) I remember half of the hike. Staggering around trying to get out. I remember running into a group of about 5 hikers that seemed concerned about me. Told me to sit and drink. I mumbled incoherently to them and kept going.
At this point water sounds gross to me. I know I must stay hydrated but the thought of water and or food turns my stomach. I just want to keep moving and make it out. Right before nightfall I make it to Devils Post Pile at a rangers station. I staggering onto his porch, he asks if i'm ok, offers oxygen, first aid, which I deny, and say I just have the flu, need to get to a town to get a ride out.
He seems concerned I have Hantavirus. He notices my combat boots and ACUS, he's a retired 1SGT. Instead of making me wait for a bus and pay $7, he gives me a ride to Mammoth lakes in his truck. He takes me to a few hotels I don't have money for. After some walking around town I try a hotel and some lady offered to pay over $100 for my room. A dirty stinky bearded backpacker she doesn't know. Kindness. I phone for a ride the next day and go home.
That night in the hotel some cheesy show in Alaska mentions altitude sickness. Bing bing. I google it. SURPRISE. It causes hemoptysis, pulmonary edema (HAPE), and cerebral edema (HACE) and is potentially fatal. Remember my death rattle and coughing up blood? The worst headache of my life? Eyes feeling like they were going to pop out? That's because my brain was swelling up in my skull, and my lungs were backing up. Also, for some reason, nights are extremely worse for symptoms. Which, are almost always mistaken for the flu.
Now, I knew altitude sickness. I thought. I thought it was mild dizziness, and lightheadedness that was no big deal you could push through and get acclimated to. Lesson learned. I could have easily died. Wilderness survival got a little real. Kind of pissed because in Paramedic school, they skipped over dive injuries and altitude sickness, saying you don't need these unless you go work near the ocean or mountains. Awesome. Could have cost me my life.
So it's been almost 48 hours out of the mountains, everything has cleared up but a slight throbbing headache. I am really bummed out I spent a lot of money on this, time, and so on. And I only made it 57/211 miles. I suck. On so many levels. But, can you really put a price on hard lessons learned like this? I knew altitude was an issue. That's why they recommend going north to south to get acclimated before climbing Whitney. What I didn't know is right off the bat from sea level to there is 8K feet and rarely drops below, climbing to about 12K feet in the first couple days.
There you go. Let me have it.
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Originally Posted by welderguy
I am glad it was just altitude sickness. That's cureable. 57 miles ain't no joke. You might have pushed too hard in the beginning. Go slow at first to get used to it. I don't think you failed at all. Great job!
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