Complacency can chill the commonest of sense

I am an amateur photographer.

Which is why I went to Lake Coeur d’Alene the week before Christmas to photograph the eagles. Watching these magnificent raptors fishing for spawned-out salmon had been awe-inspiring, but despite having taken several hundred frames I hadn’t gotten anything really good. So I went back the day after Christmas hoping for better luck.

On my first visit it had been foggy and drizzling. A jacket, flannel shirt, gloves and a ball cap were all I’d worn. It’d been cold, but not horribly so. This is my 25th winter in the Northwest; standing outside in light rain and 39 degrees is not uncomfortable.

When I arrived at the lake at daybreak for the reshoot, steam rose slowly from its surface and temperatures were in the low teens. There was fog and a light breeze, which meant a wind chill somewhere near zero, 40 degrees colder than my previous visit. Wearing the same clothes as before, I stepped outside into biting, burning cold and almost immediately the words “Go home, this is a bad idea. You’re not dressed warmly enough” came to mind.

But I’m nothing if not persistent – stubborn to a fault – so, ignoring common sense, I hiked about a half-mile down to the water’s edge, all the while the voice in my head repeating “Go home, this is a bad idea.” And I kept ignoring it. Each time I got caught up photographing an eagle soaring across the lake I’d completely forget how uncomfortably cold I was. I’d put the camera down and there’d be that pesky voice again, “This is a bad idea. You’re not dressed warmly enough.”

After 40 minutes or so I finally became aware something was wrong. I had no feeling in my hands and my breathing was shallow and difficult. My eyes wouldn’t focus and my legs hurt. So I started to head back. By the time I reached the van the word hypothermia percolated to the top of my cold-soaked brain and I knew if I didn’t warm up soon I was going to be in serious trouble. I started the engine, cranked the heater up all the way and lay back, breathing hard.

I didn’t know it then – foggy thinking being a prime symptom — but I was experiencing a combination of hypothermia and cold-induced asthma.

How long did it take to thaw out – 10 minutes, 20? I haven’t a clue. When the blood finally starting flowing back to my hands, boy did my fingers hurt! I’ve never felt that much pain in my hands before. A few minutes later and a feeling of warmth began spreading slowly across my chest. In fact, I thought the battery in the cell phone tucked in my coat pocket was overheating because it began to feel hot. Then I started to sweat, but I kept bundled up because I remembered reading somewhere that hypothermia victims sometimes feel overly warm despite their below-normal body temperatures. My vision remained blurry, so I knew things were still not right and it definitely wasn’t safe to drive.

After who knows how long, my breathing finally returned to normal, the fog lifted from my brain and my vision cleared. I felt very, very tired, grateful and stupid.

Outdoor activities in all seasons have unexpected risks: insect bites, falls, lightning, you name it. But what happened to me didn’t have to happen. If I’d just taken a few moments before leaving home to check the temperature and dress accordingly, instead of being focused solely on getting where I wanted to be, I would never have put myself in such jeopardy. Imagine if I’d hiked a lot farther from the parking lot or hadn’t finally listened to what my body was telling me! This story might have had a different ending.

After 25 years of living in the Northwest, you’d think I’d have been better prepared for the cold weather that December morning. But familiarity can breed complacency. And, when it comes to winter, complacency can be dangerous, if not deadly.