By J. Binford BellI went hiking with a friend up Columbine Trail a few years back. Our goal was to reach Gold Knob and return. Progress was halted on more than one occasion by a change in the weather. Once it showered and once we huddled beneath a rock ledge during a short hail storm.
It was June 19th. Fortunately between the bouts of weather the sun came out. And we were prepared.
Living in the high country we knew that it was unwise to go on even a day hike with just the clothes on our backs. Both of us carried packs with rain ponchos and a change of clothing in case what we were wearing got wet.
We also had space blankets, jackets and other emergency items just in case we were caught on the mountain by a storm - something which seemed like a definite possibility when we reached an old mining camp in a high mountain meadow and looked back toward the southwest.
The little squalls that had plagued us while we walked in the canyon were only the frontrunners of a major storm massing on the horizon. The weather channel had said nothing about such an event that morning.
But it is hard to predict weather in the mountains. Mountains can create their own weather, including snow storms in June.
We opted to turn around and see if we could race the storm back to our car some three miles below us at the base of the twisting canyon trail. Off the mountain top and once again into the valley we had hiked up through, the dark clouds were no longer visible. The thin strip of sky above us was blue and only the fresh wind in the pines gave any indication of what hid behind the mountain ridge.
As we were walking down the trail we encountered two hikers going up. They were dressed in shorts, tee shirts and tennis shoes and carried no packs. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and suitably warm in Columbine Canyon.
Storm or no storm in a couple of more hours the sun would fall behind the ridge and the temperature would drop, often as much as forty degrees. New Mexico is second in deaths from hypothermia. Florida is first. It does not have to be that cold. A small drop in the temperature, wet clothing, and an inability to get out of the wind is enough. Add sunburn and bare skin and even the smallest cool breeze can start dropping the body's core temperature.
We warned the other couple of the approaching storm, as well as how soon Columbine Canyon would be in shade, cut off from the warm sun, but they opted to continue their hike.
A half hour later the dark clouds we had seen in the distance were over the canyon. The day grew cold. We stopped and put on sweatshirts and the light jackets we had brought with us, and as a precaution our rain ponchos.
Minutes later the rain began. At first lightly. We reached our car before the sky opened up and rain came down so hard the windshield wipers were virtually no help. Shivering in our car we wondered where the other hikers were at that moment. There was scant shelter on the canyon trail. We reported their last location to the campground manager and returned to our home where we promptly lit a fire in the fireplace and watched the rain continue to pour down.
For not the first time, I was glad I had carried a pack on a short hike. Glad for the warm dry clothes, the jacket and rain poncho that seemed so unnecessary when we had set out that morning. And I wondered where the couple in shorts were at that moment.
When hiking in the high country it is wise to be prepared for changes in weather and temperature. Storms build rapidly over mountain ridges and a warm summer day can quickly change.
Layer clothing for cool mornings and evenings. And carry at least a small pack with a light jacket, rain poncho, space blanket, matches, and maybe even an emergency flare or two.
Be prepared to spend the night on the mountain in a makeshift shelter, even if it is only going to be a day hike. Carrying a little extra weight on your back can save your life.
You may only be planning to go four miles, but an hour walk in the sunshine is very different from an hour walk in freezing rain. The mountains are far more enjoyable if you are prepared.
Jacqui Binford-Bell is has been living in the high country of northern New Mexico for over twenty years. In addition to being an avid fan of outdoor activity, she has raised llamas, taught alpine skiing to physically challenged skiers, worked as a costume designer for the Santa Fe Opera, and is not only a nationally renowned maskmaker, but a qualified electrician. She is also a long-time columnist for the Red River Miner.
