Dangerous Winds December 2005

[Scott P]

December 9, 2005

Written December 9, from Breckenridge: I can't believe this happened. Let this serve as a warning to anyone who thinks of climbing in high winds.

I just got off East North Star Peak, a 13,460 foot (~4100 meters) peak in Colorado. It was windy the whole way up, but I dressed properly and had 5 layers on, as well as no exposed flesh at all, so I wasn't cold, and had much new gear I was trying out.

It was very windy, but it wasn't that bad at first, but as I neared the summit, I was blown to the ground several times, but the summit was close enough that I continued. Near the eastern summit, I couldn't stand up, but I could crawl on my hands and knees during the wind gust, which were strong enough to force me to crawl every few minutes. After a while, I could stand up again.

Just below the east summit, a gust of wind picked me up. It didn't push me down; it picked me up-like a toothpick. It seems like the gust carried me what seemed to be 25-30 feet (8-9 meters) up in the air and above the ground, and for a horizontal distance of 50-60 feet (16-18 meters) before savagely slamming me to the ground. I didn't measure it, but it seemed long way up (I mean I was in the air looking way down at the ground!!) and I can't believe the wind could do this! I weigh 220 lbs/100kgs. Once I smashed into the ground I saw my left glove (which had idiot strings, but still ripped from my hand) and my left ski pole fly in the air until they disappeared. I had landed on my left side, with my left hand, forearm, and upper leg taking the brunt of the force. Since I still had my right ski pole, I had a death grip on it, and in a state of confusion, I raised my right hand (forgetting that the flesh of my hand was exposed) in front of my face to block spindrift so I could see. My goggles were sprayed with blowing blood that instantly froze the moment it hit the goggles. My down coat was ripped open on my left arm and feathers were flying everywhere. I was injured and sore, but not in that much pain.

I could see my ski pole in the rocks and snow below, but my glove is probably on its way to New Mexico.

I was able to struggle down the mountain, trying to keep my left hand in my pocket. Once I got low enough to reach a tree, I went down to sit behind some rocks and be somewhat sheltered to the wind so I could look at my injured hand. Luckily they were not near as bad as a feared and not near as bad as the blood indicated. There was a "pinkie nail sized