Mountain Hypothermia

Big, fat rain drops poured down my nose and into my mouth making me choke.
“You can do it, Durango. Keep going…” I whispered through blue-tinted lips at the horse limping beneath my saddle.
It was mid-June and I was at a ranch with my extended family in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I was definitely a horsey person, but when it came to riding in the rain, I was against it.
“Keep going, Durango. Keep goin’…” I chanted again, more for my sake than the horses, my fingers clinging to the worn, leather reigns.
A crack of thunder echoed through the mountains causing my horse to jerk in surprise, while lightning lit up the sky. I could hardly see through the pouring rain dripping in my eyes at my brother, sister, aunt, and cousins riding up ahead with the wrangler.
Rain poured down my t-shirt and drenched me to the bone. Within 30 minutes I was shivering, with my teeth chattering like maracas.
“I-It’s n-not c-cold enough to f-freeze to death is it?” I asked through chattering teeth.
“No.” My aunt replied, as she covered herself with her thick warm jacket.
For some reason I didn’t believe her. I looked up through the thick trees and felt dread as we continued to troop farther into the mountains, each step taking us further from the ranch.
“Well, gosh it sure is rainin’!” I heard the wrangler call, tapping his western cowboy hat.
My lips were shuttering too hard to say anything, as I curled over my horse, letting go of the reigns, letting any kernel of warmth heat me.
We continued to ride further into the mountains for another hour. The rain never once ceased- if anything it just got harder! I shivered so much I almost fell out of the saddle. My mind went blank and I kept chanting over and over again, “Keep going, Durango… keep goin’….” As if somehow it were a magic spell that would make me warm again. In all my wildest dreams, I had not imagined my trip to a ranch to end up like this.
Never had I been so cold before in my life. I thought back to all the Minnesota snow storms, and not once was I this cold, even when we had -40 degree weather! Rain poured down my nose and I felt like crying, except that would make me even wetter. I couldn’t die now… I couldn’t…. I had so many dreams ahead of me….
Suddenly I heard a buzz and a metallic voice, “Corey, ya there?” A voice asked, from the radio clipped to the wrangler’s belt.
“Yah, Donna, I’m here.” He yelled back in to the radio, over the racket of the pouring rain.
I couldn’t hear her full reply, but relief flooded over me as the voice said, “Come home….. Trot…”
I shivered more and more and the wrangler turned around to speak to our group.
“We’re heading back!” He yelled.
“H-how long ‘till we get back?” I asked, my voice trembling with the effort.
“One hour and fifteen minutes.” He replied with his western accent.
My heart sank. I was going to die for sure now.
My hair was drenched and hanging down my back. Even my horse seemed weary. His feet slipped in the mud and I shuddered uncontrollably. Soon my brain seemed to just leave the present and hide inside. My mind wandered to the past, thinking about random things- my fifth birthday, the time when my brother and I had experimented in the kitchen, our family trip to the Leaning Tower of Pisa… I began to feel odd moments of blissful warmth. A wave of heat would wash over me, and I would almost feel hot, and then suddenly the cold would hit me again, sharp as a knife. Was this Hypothermia?
All the confidence and hope had left me. Another hour in this rain and I would die. I knew what it felt like now to have a real adventure, and it was terrible. I prayed to any higher being, to please let me live. I began to slip out of my saddle and I couldn’t move my fingers. Durango, my tall, ugly brown horse, was smart enough to follow the horse in front of him without me holding on to the rains. We sloshed through puddles and walked through dripping bushes and trees. Sometimes Durango would sense me weakness and try to stop for a snack on some good tasting leaves. I had no strength to pull him away. Instead I croaked,
“Keep goin’ Durango…. Keep goin’… until he moved on.”
I almost slipped out of the saddle as the bitter rain ran down my face and over my chattering, blue lips. I had never known what real teeth chattering was until now. I knew I was dying.
Nobody else on the ride seemed to notice me freezing to death, nor show any sympathy. While I was freezing on the saddle with simply a t-shirt and shorts, my fellow riders had dressed in rain ponchos and sweaters. As we meandered down the mountain I thought of all the things I would sacrifice right then just to be some place warm and dry. I’d give almost anything.
We soon crossed a familiar gurgling stream and passed by a large wood pile. We were within 30 minutes of the ranch, but I was afraid I wouldn’t last that long. The wrangler called for us to halt and announced that we “cannot continue until the ranch staff has brought their stop signs to make sure there is no traffic on the road.” I couldn’t believe it! God help me!
“Let’s just go!” I whispered as loud as I could. Nobody heard me over the loud rain. They weren’t even shivering.
A sudden loud crack of thunder caused my horse to bolt forward and it took all my remaining strength to pull him to a stop a few yards away. His fur was sopping and I could hardly clamp the reigns with my hands. Suddenly, another blissfully warm Hypothermia heat wave washed over me, before stabbing me with the icy cold. My fingers couldn’t move and I could hold it in no longer. I began to sob.
Nobody heard me and it made no difference, my face was already so wet. My family was just going to let me die out here? What would they think when they found out my horse had carried my dead body back to the ranch? Would I wake up in the hospital? Or not at all? I hated waiting.
Rain poured into my mouth as I let out harsh, jagged sobs. The 10 minutes we spent waiting for the staff with signs felt like hours. Cars whipped by on the nearby road and I felt like pleading to them, “Help me!” If I survived this, I swore, I would never go anywhere without my jacket.
The wrangler finally got a call on his radio telling us it was clear to cross the road. We walked painfully slow, while I chanted “Keep goin’ Durango.” Lightning streaked across the gray sky and thunder cracked like the noise of a cannon. Suddenly, when I thought my vision was going to black out for good, my prayers were answered.
A huge white van with the ranch’s name on it pulled up by us.
“Anyone need a ride?” The driver asked.
“I do.” I called.
Nobody heard me.
“I do!” I yelled again, hoarsely.
The man jumped out of the van and practically carried me off Durango’s back and lifted me into the van. I was shivering madly. I was so, so cold. A few other ranch guests from different trail rides were also in the bus, but they weren’t shivering. They stared at me as I tried to control my shivering.
“Are you okay, honey?” One lady asked.
I nodded, unable to speak between shivers. The truth was I wasn’t okay, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Everything had to be okay now.
“Are you could or nervous?” The lady asked, referring to my shivering.
Between shivers and teeth chattering I managed to spit out shakily, “c-c-cold.”
I was drenched and now, so was the seat.
“Come sit up here, I have a heater.” The driver ordered. I nodded and managed to stagger up to the front seat and warm my hands by the heater. Stiffly and sorely they began to move again.
“You’re shiverin’ so much your teeth will fall out.” One southern lady commented.
We drove up the lane past my family riding back to the barn and towards the guest cabins.
“Which cabin is yours? We’ll drop you off there.” The man asked.
“C-closest…. To the lodge.” I managed to stammer.
“Okay, make sure to take a nice warm shower.” The driver ordered.
My boots were filled to the brim with freezing water and I studied my fingers to make sure they didn’t have frostbite. Could you get frostbite if there wasn’t snow or frost? The man let me out by my cabin and I stumbled on shaky legs to the lodge. Rain was pouring down still and I stumbled to the front porch, dumped out my boots, and went straight to the shower and turned the hot water all the way up.
The heat of the water burned me but I didn’t care. My skin turned a violent shade of red, though when I stepped out of the shower, I was still shivering. I put on dry clothes and wrapped myself in every blanket in the cabin, before curling up into a ball and awaiting the return of my family.
It took hours before I felt completely warm again. My family was skeptical about my coldness and never truly seemed to believe that I could have gotten Hypothermia after spending three hours in the mountains in the rain. But I know the truth. I trust my instinct. Besides, I kept my promise. I now carry my sweatshirt jacket around with me everywhere.