Hypothermia
Harold wasn’t even contemplating giving up. But Meghan was well beyond.
Collapsed in the snow she gasped, “I can’t go on.” A pall of cold and exhaustion embraced her as she crumbled from her knees to the ground. Going to sleep was more a foregone conclusion than a deliberate act of suicide.
“We can’t stay here!” Harold was tired but determined.
It was January 1984. A few decades before mobile phones became common and a few hours before common sense was proven MIA in a 24-year-old’s carefree quest for a Saturday afternoon adventure. Meghan was along for the ride, trusting in his judgment, oblivious to fate.
The hike had started pleasant enough when they parked the car and passed the large “Trail Closed for the Winter” sign to enter a wonderland of infinite white-adorned trees along an icy creek, punctuated with frozen waterfalls in upstate NY. Even as an experienced all-year hiker, he was intoxicated by the beauty of a brand-new foot of snow scintillating millions of sparkles from the afternoon sun. The woods beckoned seductively.
Despite the scenery, wading uphill through virgin snow for hours was new to Meghan and it didn’t take long before she started to slow. When the sun started setting she collapsed, and the temperature began to, as well.
The car was now impossibly too far away.
Harold was incredulous as the full weight of his poor planning and careless confidence pivoted to disaster. Not only had he failed to consider the much lengthened time it would take to traverse a path he’d never visited that was covered in snow, but now that they arrived at the top, the scene did not reflect what was depicted on the map. There was supposed to be another parking lot, which would lead to a rural road that would be easy to walk down to get to their car. Perhaps this upper lot was closed and invisible under the snow. Regardless, he insisted, “We have to keep going.”
Meghan was confused, overwhelmed, and resistant to getting up, stammering that since they were now out of the woods, it was apparent no civilization was visible.
Harold tried coaxing, cajoling, and reasoning; all to no avail. His mind raced between thoughts of a future newspaper article highlighting the deaths of a couple found frozen in an area no one was allowed; to whether he should go off on his own to seek help, leaving her to a potential demise; or stay with her hoping she might recover enough so that by then they could head out into the dark of night without even a flashlight.
There was no good answer.
With seconds ticking to eternity, he announced, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He pushed forward in search of…well…anything.
After another hundred yards, a distant row of furled snow in the dimming light formed a long and almost imperceptible shadow. He continued forward, hopeful but uncertain. When he finally recognized that he was, indeed, observing the long line of a snow bank left by a plow, he knew for sure there was an unseen cleared road immediately on the other side. Rather than advance another quarter mile to verify hard ground, he rushed back to Meghan shouting as he approached, willing her to get up.
Meghan stirred but was mostly incoherent, mumbling that she didn’t see a road. He grabbed her arms and pulled her upright, exclaiming it would become visible by moving.
They struggled along as Meghan continued to murmur that she didn’t see it. When the long, low snowbank started to appear, she was still dubious but did seem to contribute more to her motion.
Eventually, the headlights of a car appeared on the horizon, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Not only did the moving lights confirm the road’s existence, but Harold calculated the timing and probability of intercepting the vehicle for a ride to the bottom of the hill. His urgency compelled her onward and then Harold commanded her to keep moving so he could run ahead and wave down the vehicle.
In his mind, he was resolute that he would not let the car pass without stopping.
It was only a few miles down the road to the bottom parking lot. Harold was surging with adrenaline while managing multiple conversations and thought paths: maintaining a conversation with each of the concerned couple in the front seats; assuring Meghan; recalling the location of the motel he spotted in the last town they passed in the morning; deciding they would not be driving four hours back to the city, but would immediately get Meghan into a warm bath; reveling in gratefulness that the future newspaper article he foresaw would not be; all while nursing an imperative to better gauge the reality of Mother Nature vs. the nature of common sense.
By George Alger
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