Cold, wet and hypothermic
THE DOOR opens. We look up.
There are maybe eight of them, scouts in their teens years led by an adult. We can see they are cold and glad to get out of the weather. They look wet and bedraggled. They mill around, pulling sleeping bags and food from packs.
A strong wind slanted a cold rain across the high country that afternoon, a rain that varied from light to heavy. We had been further out on the ranges, out towards Jugungal. Our plan was to overnight here at Horse Camp Hut before walking out.
The hut was built in the fifties by workers on the Snowy Mountains hydroelectric project. It’s a basic, unpretentious structure of galvanised iron. Inside there’s a table, and bunks at the other end. Situated some hours walk from the Guthega trailhead, Horse Camp is either the first or last overnight stop for those who venture further out. With its utilitarian materials and basic appointments, it reeks authenticity.
Walking out
Tomorrow we walk out to Guthega dam. We are a small group from High Country Bushwalkers and have been out for several days in fine weather, until today that is, trekking the open, high country of the Australian Alps.
Sleeping bags spread on bunks, we set about preparing food. We are finishing when the party of scouts come in. They mill around, organising themselves for the night and prepare to cook something to eat.
What is it? Five minutes later that the door opens and two more walk in? We realise they are from the same party. How come they were left behind by the group, especially in the late afternoon’s cold, wet weather? Aren’t scouts supposed to be competent enough to keep their group together?
I look at the newcomers. They move with that inertia that comes when you are cold and wet. I notice that one of them is unusually lethargic. Then I realise what is going on. He’s not warming up because he’s displaying the classic signs of hypothermia.
Why isn’t this apparent to their leader? I approach him. This boy needs to be warmed up. His condition will only worsen if we don’t act now. Time is crucial. He considers, then agrees. I get the impression he is unfamiliar with hypothermia and the need to keep a group together in severe weather and to monitor their condition.
A couple from our party talk to the boy. We tell one of his crew to take the boy’s sleeping bag from his pack and unfurl it on a bunk. We get him into the bag and get one of his friends to unpack his sleeping bag and lie next to him to share his warmth.
For the next few hours we monitor his condition. He is warming. He sleeps through the night.
The weak light of morning streams through the widows. The boy is back to normal. The weather is fine. We make breakfast, pack and set off, sidestepping a large copperhead as we make our way down to Guthega.
BY ROAD @ TRACK on facebook
