by Mike Brown

Have you ever been out on a walk, day hike, backpack outing or fly fishing adventure only to realize that you’ve;

     (a) Failed to pre-hydrate before you left the trailhead and have now become sick, or
     (b) Run completely out of drinking water, or
     (c) Flat-out forgot about taking along drinking water in the first place?

I have. If you haven’t, you’re one of the fortunate ones.

THE SET-UP

Just days after the 1998 Golden Trout Wilderness opener, an old friend called me on the phone and invited me to fish the Cottonwood basin with him. He had done some pretty hard boo-hooing about how terrible he had felt missing opening day due to work commitments, and how he desperately needed to spend some time with his golden friends that lived in Cottonwood Creek. Feeling his pain and having missed the opener myself, I sacrificed another plan later in the month that I had already laid the groundwork for, and instead chose to head-up with him on one of those last minute drive-all-night blast-and-cast trips that we’re all familiar with. When all was said and done I had less than thirty hours to gather my gear, tie some extra flies, and get the nod from a boss that would surely be anything less than compassionate to my appeal. Just as I had presumed the boss denied my claim, and I promptly picked up the telephone to call out sick. See, the way I envision these kinds of things is sometimes you’ve just gotta step back, look at your personal bigger picture, and figure out what your priorities at that moment really are. That’s easy for me. Mine have always been my job and flyfishing – and not always in that order. How nice the weather is going to be tends to have alot of influence over which of those two priorities takes a front seat at the time. And just for the record, the upcoming Sierra weather outlook for those few days was to be phenomenal.

I still remember the scathing return phone message my boss had left for me, informing me how his denial of my last-minute vacation request didn’t render my phoning in a fraudulent sick call. He was technically right, and bad karma can be a bitch. So just to get him off my back I wandered across my driveway to the neighbors’ house and politely asked the doctor that lived there if he would kindly write me a prescription ordering me to stay away from work for the next few days. There were some laughs about my scheme over a drink or two, and maybe even a few fishing stories thrown into the mix as well. With a handshake and thank you I was sent on my way with signed script in hand, happy as a kid at Christmas time. It was exactly what the doctor had ordered, so to speak. And for his priceless assistance in the matter, the doc was well taken care of as he received a rather expensive bottle of scotch that year.

We had come up together from San Diego under the cover of total darkness, stopping only for fuel in Kramer Junction and the occasional bladder dump off the side of the highway. We blew completely through a half-case of Mountain Dew and dined on an entire box of Zebra Cakes during the drive as well. You may be asking yourself at this point, “What the hell are Zebra Cakes?” I’ll tell you what they are. Zebra Cakes are pure sugar. That’s it.

Five hours later in near freezing temperatures - and just shortly after sunrise, we arrived safely at the top and I settled my truck into a choice little parking space right next to the toilets - because that’s where the experienced players park. With little regard for the outside chill factor we launched ourselves out of my truck and immediately donned some heavy fleece jackets before gathering our packs and rigging our flyrods. Right out of the gate I noticed that something was physically wrong with me. I was having some slight trouble concentrating and I was experiencing difficulty performing simple tasks - like getting the cap unscrewed from the tube and pulling the fly rod out of its’ sock. Just getting the fly line through all of the guides had proven to be a monumental undertaking. I was getting really frustrated from all the horsing around I seemed to be doing with my gear, and I wanted to get going so that we could get back toward the Cottonwoods before any other fishermen could wet a line. Thankfully, on the fourth attempt I had all of the guides nailed, leaving only the knot connecting the fly to contend with. Over the next several minutes my health went from questionable to poor. My vision blurred intermittently, my ability to think clearly had totally ditched me, and my head pounded with every heartbeat like nothing I’d ever known before.

To make an incredibly long yet funny story short, I ended up wandering slightly off-trail roughly a mile into the walk. I stopped and sat down on an old fallen pine tree where nausea, vomiting, muscle cramps and a major case of diarrhea jumped up and claimed victory over my body. I had no clue where I was or how I had gotten there, and had no idea how to get back to where I had started. Fortunately, my friend had enough experience to know that he was witnessing me play-out the classic symptoms of AMS/Altitude Mountain Sickness (which he’d actually started to suffer himself I later found out). Somehow - and I honestly don’t recall how, he managed to limp us both back to my truck at the trailhead, navigate us safely down the “Z,” and back into Lone Pine to a motel room where I spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening puking and crapping myself into oblivion.

This terrible tragedy occurred for one, simple reason; lack of focus on my part. There were many contributing factors to this failure – too many to recount here, but they happened. I knew better, and there was no excuse for my errant behavior – unless you don’t mind me using overall stupidity as my honest excuse.

DEHYDRATION

I’ve been fly fishing since I was seven and backpacking since I was thirteen, and I remember listening intently every time my father would say, “Mike, keep drinking water.” How often did I actually do it? Well, most of the time - because he was watching, for sure. But on this occasion I had been so busy running errands the last hours before the trip that I just plum forgot about following my own rule of the road - prehydrate. I don’t recall drinking any water whatsoever before I left town, but how well I can remember running through that full, plastic liter bottle of ice cold Coca-Cola while sitting at the bench cranking out the extra three dozen size 20 Adams dries that my dear friend had begged me for.

Dehydration occurs when the overall amount of water leaving your body is greater than the amount being taken in – and that’s just for starters. Did you know that your body is primarily comprised of water? That’s right. Up to approximately 75% of your mass weight is water. The majority of water in your body can be found in what’s called intracellular space - or in other words, found within the cells. The remainder of water in your body is found in the extracellular space such as blood vessels and the spaces located between the cells (known as interstitial space). Some of the initial signs and symptoms of dehydration are thirst, head rushes, dry mouth, skin flushing, dark yellow or orange-colored urine, loss of appetite, weakness and muscle fatigue and chills. These symptoms will usually begin with simple thirst then graduate to more serious issues as your body’s need for water becomes more urgent. And the symptoms vary from person to person. Some folks will experience a lot of symptoms all at once, and others will experience only a few symptoms over time. This happens simply because we’re all different, and we each operate on a different system.

If initially left unchecked, the following laundry list of medical problems will more than likely appear; extreme body fatigue, increased heart rate and respiration rate, lack of sweating when you should be, loss of urine output, cramps, nausea, headaches, and increased body temperature.

Once the body is allowed to reach a mind-boggling five to ten (5-10) percent fluid loss, severe dehydration takes over and medical help should be called immediately. Symptoms most often seen with this condition are muscle spasms and twitching, altered vision, skin tenting or wrinkling, true difficulty breathing, chest pain, seizures and ultimately, unconsciousness. But that’s not all. If still left untreated, the possibilities may then include heat stroke and ultimately, death.

Water is constantly being lost from our body anytime we breathe, sweat, vomit, urinate or defecate. In order to replace what’s been lost, fluid volume replacement must occur. We aren’t talking about a sip or two of soda pop or beer here; we’re talking about significant fluid replacement by water or electrolyte fluid. Whether replacement is delivered by plain water, Gatorade or any other brand name electrolyte, it must be done. Immediate replacement is vital for continued positive health and functionality – no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Some people get hit with dehydration sickness so bad that it takes an expensive ambulance ride, an overnight stay in a hospital room, and a few liters of intravenous fluids to help them climb out of the hole they’ve found themselves in.

Falling short in the proper hydration category is one of the most common and most serious medical issues among high altitude fishermen and hikers. Most of us don’t possess a good regimen to prevent the problem. Even though I wish no ill-will on anyone, I believe that we totally deserve what we get if we’re going to ignore the possibility of dehydration. In all my backcountry flyfishing years I’ve seen literally thousands of day hikers, backpackers and fishermen on various Eastern Sierra trails that had been carrying with them nothing but a small, plastic twelve-ounce bottle of water as their only water source. And I can’t even begin to recount the number of folks I’ve seen that had been moving along at full speed that were carrying no water at all. In my own experience, the most notorious of all places to observe this happening is on the Mosquito Flats/Little Lakes Valley Trail at Rock Creek Canyon. Over the years I’ve been approached on this trail by more casual day hikers overcome with the initial effects of dehydration illness than any other Eastern Sierra location. Fortunately for the folks that I’ve run into, I always carry ibuprofen and a water pump filter or portable filter. Each time this scenario has played out I was able to either pump a bottle of water or two for them, or offer them endless swigs with a portable filter bottle that I always carry in my lumbar pack or backpack, depending on what kind of adventure I’m out on at the time.

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