I have never lived anywhere all that cold, but I have lived around some of the snowiest places on Earth and survived while backpacking and getting 4ft of snow 24mi into the backcountry, hiking another 40mi. Snow level dropped a few thousand feet lower than predicted a few days before when I had set out hitchhiking to the trailhead, but I really should have known better than to be in that position. It was a section of the PCT (mi 1600 to 1700 or so) that had been on fire when I thru hiked the preceding summer. I had stayed helping a friend harvest grapes and make wine longer than was wise and pushed the season too late. I also was in the best shape of my life after hiking 2658mi in 144 days. I did end up glad I had fattened back up a bit after getting to Canada in early October.
Hitchiking took longer than normal, and I only hiked 6mi the first evening, getting dropped off in late afternoon near Etna. The next day’s weather was perfect, and I made it another 18mi, noticing the altitude and being a bit heavier with cold weather gear. I woke up the 3rd day to about 8” of snow. About 6mi in with clear skies above, I crossed the last road for another 34mi. The road was a logging track that would have been 20+ mi and off my maps. I went ahead on the PCT. The next morning I woke up to another 2+ ft of snow nearly collapsing my tent.
I had snow camped quite a bit before, and had all the food and skills one would theoretically need to survive this. I was still nervous because this was an obvious situation best to avoid with inherent risk and unpleasantness. I was concerned enough to make a video for my family and lady friend. I knew I could probably make one mistake, but not two. It was also exhilarating and unbelievably beautiful, with views of Mt. Shasta to the Siskiyous. That was until I went a bit snowblind.
The most important things I found to be:
Keeping dry above all. I always kept my sleep layers, extra warm socks, and my sleeping bag in a garbage bag. An inflatable mattress kept snow from melting underneath somewhat. In the worst of it, days 4-6 I started to go snow blind and got frost bite while hiking after having to slog into wet snow to get to a creek for water, as it snowed before it ever rained that year. At the point of urgency I recalled John Muir’s description of using mountain hemlock bows as “the loveliest of beds”. I broke off lower boughs to make a platform above snowmelt for my tent, after clearing what snow I could
then building back up. Staying above the water melted by body heat or fire is essential. I did the same for a fire, which I started with a baseball sized wad of douglas fir sap. Look below where trees have wounds. Tinder was interior twigs of spruce and punky wood from the underside of a logs. To get snow covered wood started, I put it around the fire, not on top. Let it catch when ready. This fire allowed me to dry my gear and clothes, which had gotten wet from sweat and condensation of melt hiking through 4ft of snow, following little more than signs of trail work like straight log and lopper cuts.
Within a dry, envelope in my tent or by the fire, the next most important thing was feeding my internal heater by eating an amount of chips, granola and peanut butter that ruined those foods for me for years. Eating is by far the most efficient heat source, as it generates right in the core of our thermal mass. Along the same lines, the most efficient exercise to heat up is a Taoist technique of clenching one’s core muscles. Cover anywhere bloodflow is close to skin particularly well. In the coldest nights, curl up in warmest dry clothes possible in sleeping bag under space blanket, breathing under body head inside bag to retain heat.
Hydration is also of under rated importance, as blood—almost entirely water—is what transports warmth to extremities. Hydrating can also one of the hardest things to safely do in extreme cold or snow in the backcountry, as it oft puts you at risk of getting wet. Dehydration is still not worth it though, and I have also been in -8f of dry cold climbing New Mexico’s Gila mountains. Dehydration can often be a bigger risk over cold, and it contributes to other serious altitude problems.
The last day I woke up to rain, and knew I had to get out that day. I was
hurting, also having torn my groin due to ice laden boots and icy post fire deadfall in places. I followed coyote tracks for miles, and nearly followed him off trail but noticed near a cliff that we were following hare tracks for the previous 50yds. I made the 9mi to the next road. I decided not to drag my leg for the next 40mi of just burned, snow covered PCT, which would have been every step from Mexico to Canada. I needed to resupply and recover for at least a day in Etna. I threw up my thumb and the first vehicle was going the opposite way from Etna. Some good ol NorCal boys were going to a harvest party. I asked it there would be a fire there to dry out. They said, “oh brother there’ll be fire”. They introduced me to the sweetest group of hippies you could imagine as “this [m-f’er] just spent a week in those mountains, get him a beer and….”. I ate immense amounts of barbecue and cobbler. I slept in the grange surrounded by snoring radiant heaters producing 100w apiece. Kindhearted community was a much easier way to stay warm!
