On Tuesday August 13 2003, Doug, Kumo and I hiked into Monashee Lake from the west intending to camp for three nights and spend two days bagging summits in the Pinnacles. Monashee Lake is accessed off the South Fork FSR from Hway 6 to Vernon. A good but steep hiking trail leads initially through old growth cedar forest and later through extensive avalanche runs to Monashee Lake, which lies roughly midway in the north south running Pinnacle Range (Doug says thinks the trail was way too steep and loose to be classified as "good". As far as trails go, he would call it "unpleasant"). We left the truck at 1.40 pm and arrived, soaked with sweat (it was a hot day), at the lake at 4.00 pm. We set up camp close to the lake in beautiful alpine meadow, unfortunately marred by a preponderance of fire pits. There were, however, fine views of The Pinnacles and the Okanogan Plateau.
Next morning, Sandy managed to get stung by a wasp while returning from her morning ablutions and had a severe allergic reaction characterized by redness, difficulty breathing and near loss of consciousness. As soon as the allergic reaction became apparent, we attempted to hike out but Sandy collapsed and was unable to walk. Luckily, after resting with her head and shoulders elevated the symptoms gradually abated and later that afternoon we were able to walk back out to the truck. Coincidentally, we noticed a huge number of wasps around camp. To prevent further (possibly fatal) wasp stings, Sandy walked out in long underwear, long pants, goretex jacket with hood up, and gloves. Temperatures were in the high 20's.
Here is Doug's account of the "Wasp Incident":
After a warm night we crawled out of the tent when the sun reached us around 8:00. Not long after, Sandy returned from her morning ablutions announcing she had been stung by a wasp. She had also been stung about 3 weeks earlier and had developed a large read welt in her calf that was still itchy. Within 10 minutes, she mentioned her allergies were bad this morning and she might even have some asthma. At this point a small voice in the back of my head said "I hope this isn't from the sting ...". I unobtrusively watched her as we began eating breakfast - she was starting to show signs of difficulty breathing, general distress, and unusual behavior. After she put down her uneaten breakfast and put her head in her hands, I dispensed with the subtleties and approached for a closer look. "Did you get a sunburn yesterday?" I asked hopefully, as her face and chest were becoming quite red. "No; get me my mirror", which I dutifully did. She was shocked at her obvious allergic reaction and declared "We've got to get out of here and get me to medical attention".
A flurry of activity ensued; Sandra is the nurse, but I couldn't help but wonder if attempting the 4 hour jaunt to the nearest hospital was the best thing to do. But I think we both felt we had to do _something_ (in hindsight, physical exercise through wasp country when she was having trouble breathing, probably wasn't the best idea). I approached Sandra at the tent and it was immediately clear we weren't going anywhere - she was too weak to tie her boots and was in obvious distress. As a nurse she knew exactly what was going on - racing pulse, a red rash on face, chest, legs, arms, tightness in her chest, difficulty breathing - and knew that she was sinking into anaphylactic shock and that her prognosis was not good. As her world went black, she was amazingly calm, and started preparing me for her impending death.
At this point I started to have to really work at staying calm. I could see she was on the verge of unconsciousness and her lips were quite blue (even I know this means she's not getting enough oxygen). As she collapses on her side she shows me by feel where I am to make the tracheotomy cut after she passes out. She tells me it is a long shot as her constricted airway is only one of the life-threatening consequences of her out-of-control immune system. In my mind I'm remembering where the Swiss Army knife is (no time to sterilize), thinking of the piece of tent pole in the repair kit that will probably do the job ... but knowing what a mess I can make of a flank steak, I'm not looking forward to the procedure.
We get her into the tent on her back, with her head and shoulders slightly elevated. This helps a bit, and she never does lose consciousness. I measure her pulse at 48 (it was racing less than 10 minutes ago). I watch helplessly as the waves of histamine wrack her body. Her face and chest and eyes would go beet red, and then subside. In a flash her entire body was covered in goose bumps. She suffered through violent shakes. After 5 or 10 minutes of this it seemed likely that the worst was past and she was going to live. That was my cue to have a wee collapse of my own.
The cycle of histamine surge and decline went on in decreasing intensity waves for close to an hour, and at that point Sandy felt OK, but was quite wiped. When I then went outside, I realized that camp was literally swarming with wasps. This, of course, was not good, as another sting for Sandy would literally be lights-out.
Sandra rested in the tent until around 1:00 until she felt strong enough to attempt the walk out. We would pass through long distances of flowering plants in the meadow and avalanche paths, so as a precaution, Sandra dressed herself in multiple layers of polypro, fleece, and Gore-Tex, all topped off with loads of 100% DEET. We made it to the truck in 1:45, but Sandy was more than a wee bit hot, as it was another sunny and hot day.
We visited the doctor on Thursday and now have two "Epipen"s in our possession, that are self injecting epinephrine (adrenaline) needles, which will counteract her allergic reaction should she be stung again. The doctor cringed upon hearing my description of my plans for an emergency tracheotomy - rather unlikely to have been helpful, even if I was adept at the procedure, but still worth trying.
I can only shake my head at what would have happened should Sandra had not managed to swat the wasp right after it stung, or had not being wearing long underwear, or even received two stings. It those cases, even a satellite phone would have been pretty useless (not that we had one) as the time from when we realized this was a very serious situation to when she would have stopped breathing would have been 5-10 minutes at the most (Sandy had never had such a reaction before). After such an unpleasant experience, it feels strange to feel lucky, but that's exactly how I feel.
Carpe Diem. This mortal coil. And all that stuff.
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