Drugs for Altitude Sickness

For the best snow and most interesting terrain, snowboarders need to get high--that is, high in elevation. But traveling from sea level or the flatlands to the mountains can give a person altitude sickness.

Last March I took a trip to Crested Butte, which has a base elevation of over 9,300 feet. Before going there, I did some research into altitude sickness. I'd like to say that it helped me, but I don't think so.

One thing I did is get a prescription for Acetazolamide, which WebMD says is used to "prevent and reduce the symptoms of altitude sickness." The National Institutes for Health has more.

The information sheet that came with my prescription had this to say, in part:

"This medicine is a carbonic anhydrase inhibitor used to treat glaucoma or to remove excess body water."

I was a bit startled when I read this. Nothing about altitude sickness. So I kept reading:

"It may also be used to treat other conditions as determined by your doctor."

So there's the altitude sickness, I guess.

The information sheet had the typical warnings about alcohol use and operating heavy machinery. I was struck by another line, though:

"This medicine may cause increased sensitivity to the sun."

Crested Butte, we have a problem. At least I had a problem: I burn rather easily, and here my new helper would make that even more likely. After all, I would be (I hoped!) spending a lot of time in the sun, and at a high elevation. A word with the pharmacist gave me some relief though: use plenty of sunscreen and you'll be fine. Same old, same old.

By the way, did it help? It's hard to say. You're supposed to take it a day or two before you head to higher ground, but once there, I forgot to take it on the first or second day. I didn't get the same intensity of a headache that I had during a trip to Summit County (the elevation in Breckenridge: 9,600 feet), but on the last day I wsa so wiped out that I came inside for a quick nap.

NASJA 16: My NASTAR Experience (B)

Yesterday I explained how I got in a NASTAR race on a snowboard. But how did it go?

At the base of the mountain I had to ask where the NASTAR event was. "Take the Red Lady lift, and go off to your right," I was told. I did, and as I got to the area, called "Smith Hill," I certainly felt a little unusual.

The course itself was fenced off on either side, and the starting area was enclosed as well. A queue of fellow snowsports journalists, about 18 or so, were lined up just outside the area, waiting for their turn.

A snowboard is a great device for sliding down a mountain, but it's not so great for staying in one place. People were queued up not in a flat area but on a slope. I could stand in one heel side or toe side. Standing heel side for a prolonged time is difficult, but really, standing in line in either stance was difficult, since my board would have to be perpendicular to everyone else's skis.

I released the binding on my back soot, and awkwardly descended to the waiting area, step by by step. Sometimes the board would slip out from under me, and I had to work to get it back under my control.

In time I got to the starting gate. There were two starting gates, side by side. Skiers have no difficulty getting into position. On a snowboard, you may, as I did, have to get both bindings set at the gate. Fortunately it wasn't the case that you just slide up to the gate and go in the next instant.

The starter asked the name of the skier at the adjacent gate, and yelled that out to the record keeper. Then she did the same for me. During this time I was able to secure my back-foot-binding, and move myself into position. I would start out passing through two low posts, and I grabbed both of those to hold myself in place until the starter told us to go.

The courses are fairly close, and I certainly did not want to take out any skier. One, that would hurt. Two, that would harm skier-snowboarder relations, and I felt like I had to be on my best behavior. Given these concerns, I planned to leave the gate slowly, to give the skier time to get down the course before I did. Not that this was necessary; I would have lagged almost anyone in the event.

I had never participated in such an event, so I had no idea how closely spaced the gates would be. That played well into the "take it slow" plan; I took my time in figuring things out.

The first three gates were fairly closely spaced, so I was careful to make it past each one. No use getting disqualified so early. As my run was in the first hour of the event (and of the day), the course was in pretty good shape, or so I thought. Not too scraped off, not too icy, not too rutted.

After a few gates, the course opened up a bit, with the gates getting further apart. It was easier to navigate them, so I could go faster. "Just make each gate," I kept thinking. "No need to be a hero." That opportunity was long gone, of course, as was the skier on the other course.

When I got towards the end, I lost some speed. Bummer! And on the flat, too!

Having lived through that, I thought that it was time to take another shot. After all, it was a best-of-two format.

As I rode off to the bottom of the mountain to catch the next lift (you're thinking I was going to walk back up?), I felt pretty good about the event. No harm, no foul. No missed gates, no hit gates. I had no idea what my score was, however. For some reason--maybe it was just too high to say publicly?--there was no announcement on the loudspeakers. No mind, I made it through.

For the second run, I thought "Time to take it faster. I know how the gates are spaced, I did fine before, now use some speed."

The second run required the adjacent course. I thought that I ran faster, and sure enough, I did, though only by a second, or less. As I came to the finish line, I realized that I was again slowing down, not carrying my speed, and that I had forgotten many of the little mind tricks that I have
for speeding up my riding.

No use for that then, however. We each got two shots, and I had used mine up. It wasn't a bad start, though. I certainly don't have a racing setup. I've got an all-mountain freeride board, and I use a duck stance, for starters. But I'm willing to give it a try again next season.

NASJA 15: My NASTAR Experience (A)

A snowboarder on a ski racing course? Yep.

One common feature of the annual meeting of the National Association of Snowsports Journalists Association (NASJA) is a NASTAR event. NASTAR, which stands for the National Standards Race, is a means by which skiers (and participants are largely skiers) can assess their abilities to race.

The operations of NASTAR are all fairly complicated (see the Rules/Info page for more), but roughly speaking, an Olympic ski racer is timed on a course, and everyone else's score is referenced against his time.

There are also adjustments for a racer's sex and age, resulting, as in golf, in a handicap. Unlike a trip through a NASCAR course, which runs for hours, the trip down a NASTAR course will take 30 seconds. And that's if you're very slow. If you participate in NASTAR on a regular basis, you can track your progress over time, as the handicapping system allows you to compare your racing on Mount X in one year with your racing on Mount Y in the next year.

Each person at the annual meeting was given the opportunity to sign up for the race the day before. We were to be assigned to teams of 10 or so, which added another dimension to the event. Not only was each participant going to be stacked up with his prior performance (or in my case, setting a benchmark for future events), he would also be contributing to a team effort.

I had not thought of participating. After all, I have always thought of racing as a "ski thing." Skiers race. Snowboarders, if they do something other than cruise, hit the terrain park or the halfpipe.

But I got talked into it. One, the organizer of the event is someone I know, a person whose enthusiasm is infectious. Two, this trip was all about learning, doing new things, and exploring the broader world of snow sports. A timed race fit right in.

I had three objectives going into the event: don't get hurt, don't fall, and don't miss any gates. Happily, I met all three objectives.

More on that later.

A Trail Map You Can't Wrinkle

The solution to ripped, wrinkled trailmaps may be a cloth.

While at Crested Butte a couple of weeks ago, I was given a localized version of The Spanky. Short for "Sports Hanky," the spanky is a cloth that can be used as a fabric for cleaning off your goggles, and more importantly, for finding your way around the mountain.

A key element to the product, according to the company's web site, is a "fabric that will not scratch today's high tech len's surface." They claims that it's safe for goggles and camera lenses as well.

Buried in the cloth is a trail map of Crested Butte. I always like having a trail map with me, but paper maps quickly become wrinkled, ripped, torn, and worse, rendered into several pieces through repeated acts of placing in and removing from coat pockets.

That can't happen with the Spanky. Though mine get a bit wrinkled and in need of cleaning, it's all in one piece, even after three days on the mountain and the trip home.

The Spanky doesn't take the place of a paper map, however. Before heading out to a mountain for the first time, get a paper map and study it carefully. Take a look at the statistics, such as elevation and lift hours, that aren't on The Spanky. Get familiar with the names of slopes that you'd like to visit. The names of black trails show up very well on my copy, but the names of green trails are harder to see, and some of the blue names are very difficult to read at all.

The company has over 40 resorts represented in its inventory, including 11 mountains in Colorado alone. You can get one for under $15--$8.95 plus shipping, handling, and tax as applicable.

If you're going to a place for just a day or two, The Spanky is on the spendy side. But if you're going to be somewhere 3 or more days, it may be more worthwhile.

NASJA 14: Crested Butte Peak

How about an introduction to Crested Butte, the mountain?

One of the better views of the highest point of Crested Butte comes from the top of the West Wall lift. That lift is on the west side of the ski area, but it's not on top of any wall. Look towards the top of this peak, however, and then you'll have something approaching a wall!

NASJA 13: A Few Words About Historic Crested Butte

One evening, our rather large group broke up into several smaller groups in search of dinner in historic Crested Butte. My group had dinner at The Last Steep, a low-key contemporary restaurant offering some Cajun touches. (For what it's worth, I got the special of the night, a pulled-pork burrito. It was good.)

There are actually three (at least) Crested Buttes. One is the mountain. The second is "Mt. Crested Butte." That's where the business operations of the resort are located, as well as most of the housing, including a lot of condos. Then there is Crested Butte, the old settlement. It's got a different feel from your typical base village.





Notice the old western-style store fronts.



It would have been nice to see more of the town, but with so much riding to do (and meetings to attend), I did not spend much time there. Perhaps another trip.

NASJA 12: Parlez-Vous Francais?

One thing you might get on a mountain rather than, say, at a baseball game, is an encounter with a visitor from outside the U.S.

The other day, I shared my first chair ride up Crested Butte with husband and wife. The man spoke to me, and said something about it being a good day. I said something in return, and he replied with a phrase that didn't sound like that of a native speaker. I think it was something akin to using the present tense to talk about an event that had already happened.

Then the man turned to the woman, and the two of them started talking in quiet voices. I couldn't hear most of what they said, but the sound was familiar.

So when he turned back in my direction, I said to the man in the best French I could muster "Etes-vous Quebecois?" ("Are you from Quebec?")

I had the right language (French) but the wrong country (Switzerland). For the next five minutes we carried on a conversation. Though it had been many years since I had spoken French, I could understand most of what he was saying. That was good, because, as he told me, "I do not speak much English."

The most difficult part for me was speaking in French. Perhaps I should have spoken in English, and him, in French. Most people can understand a language much better than they can speak it.

In decades past, winter sports (primarily skiing) held a certain appeal due to the mixing of cultures and languages. If you visit a destination resort in the U.S., you might still find that. So be prepared to dust off your college language classes!

NASJA 11: Snowboarding With Poles

Snowboarding with poles? What could be sillier than that? After all, in snowboarding, you rock back and forth between heel and toe, while on skis you rock from one side of the foot to the other.

I have read, on occasion, a recommendation for novices to try snowboarding with poles. But while at Crested Butte, I saw something I had never seen before: someone navigating an expert pitch while on a snowboard, and using skis.

Riding up the Paradise lift, you'll see some steep glades to your east. They're double diamonds. And who did I see coming through those glades, but a snowboarder with ski poles. It was an odd sight.

What gives? Perhaps the poles were for flatter sections--after all, you don't come out of terrain like that at a great speed. Perhaps they somehow assisted in making tight turns, though at the moment I can't figure out how that would happen.

Any thoughts? Leave a comment.

NASJA 10: I'm Sick of Altitude

You've got to take the bad with the good.

While higher elevations make for lots of snow and good riding, they can also lead to altitude sickness. Normally my bouts are limited to sketchy sleep, though during a recent stay in Aspen I was just fine.

Crested Butte, however, is another 1,500 feet higher, making the possibility of altitude sickness more likely, and the symptoms more severe. Right now it's mostly tiredness.

As the Centers for Disease Control say, being in good condition is no protection against altitude sickness.

More on the subject later.

NASJA 7: T-Bar!

I've never liked surface lifts, whether I was on skis or on a snowboard. And for a snowboarder, face it, surface lifts were designed with skiers in mind.

But can a snowboarder make peace with surface lifts?

I struggled a long time to master tow ropes, but that's as far as I got in using surface lifts. Until now.

I spent the day touring the mountain, from edge to edge, with some other participants in the conference. By mid-afternoon, someone suggested we head up to an area that required using a t-bar. I was hesitant, but decided to take the effort.

First we went up the High Lift, and then, the North Face lift. Both lifts served diamond or double diamond terrain.

I did manage to make it up the two lifts. Here are some things that worked for me along the way. They may work for you. Though a t-bar can take two people uphill, it's best for you to go up solo.

1. Slide into place, on one side or the other of where the line will be. Your uphill foot should be in the binding; your downhill foot should not be in its binding. Note that you will also have an uphill hand and a downhill hand.

2. When the bar comes around, put your uphill hand on the line. With your downhill hand, push the bar into place. This means placing a butt cheek against the bar.

3. As you go up, you may be tempted to let your uphill arm do all the work, by grasping the line. That's a mistake; you'll tire out very quickly. Successfully using a t-bar requires letting the line do the work, through the bar, not you doing the work through holding the line in a death grip with your uphill arm.

4. You may find a tendency for the bar to slip away from you. That's not good news. To counteract this tendency, rest your downhill hand on the opposite side of the bar (where someone else would be standing), and periodically shove the bar closer to you.

5. As you ascend, maintain a slight bend in your knees. That way you can absorb small changes in the terrain.

6. Will your back foot slip off the board if it's not in a binding? Probably. The most important thing is to not panic. The second thing is to not over correct. Simply put your foot back on the board; don't stomp.

7. Note that the terrain may become more steep as you get towards the end of the ride. Stick with it and you'll be rewarded with new terrain.

NASJA 4: Where do all the Employees Live?

Mountain resorts, much like beachfront property, becomes more expensive as the population and the economy grow. Why? "They don't make them anymore." A rising national income affords more people the option of buying resort property. Increased demand and a fairly static supply sends prices in one direction: up.

Generally, people who go skiing and snowboarding at destination resorts have above-average incomes. And people who work at destination resorts--lift operators, retail clerks, hotel employeess--don't have above-average incomes.

So where do they live? Sometimes elsewhere. To take one extreme example, the Aspen Ski Company released a marketing video this year that has profiles of a dozen or so people who live and work in the region.

One fellow, who works in a restaurant, rides a bus from somewhere "downvalley," for about an hour each way. I believe that he is from Mexico, which means that even at $8 an hour (or whatever he makes), putting up with that commute, on a bus, is a winning proposition.

In the case of Crested Butte, I suspect that the problem is not so severe. The base of the resort is actually in the relatively new of Mt. Crested Butte. It's got lots of condos. Crested Butte, the longstanding down, is a few miles away. I don't know if it's any cheaper there, though some non-spectacular houses could be seen.

Perhaps some people commute from Gunnison. As I've said before, it looks like a low-rent district.

How can resorts fill low-wage jobs in a high-cost area? There are several possibilities. One, they subsidize housing. Two, they offer an entry to opportunities to immigrants, who are willing to put up with more deprivation than the average American. And finally, they offer non-monetary compensation in the form of recreational opportunities.

Meet the ski bum.

NASJA 3: Gunnison

If you fly to Crested Butte, you'll probably be flying into Gunnison. By comparison with Crested Butte, it looks to be a tired town. Sure, the main street has two or three blocks that look neat, and out of a TV western: tall, flat storefronts with a sloping, overhanging roof.

But go beyond that, and you see a lot of poverty, or at least non-wealth. During the 30 minute drive up to Mt. Crested Butte, I saw at least two settlements of mobile homes that had seen better days.

A fellow participant in the conference told me that Gunnison had been "dolled up" in recent years. He must be talking about the two or three blocks that I saw.

NASJA 2: Flights into Gunnison v. Aspen

To get to Crested Butte, I flew into Gunnison, a small town about a 30 minute drive away. The flight was a reminder of how the mountains vary from place to place, and season to season.

I have some experience with flights into Aspen, and it's a hazardous place. It requires flying into a canyon. By contrast, Gunnison appeared to offer a more wide open approach. And by coming in from Dallas, we didn't have to fly over the continental divide. Both facts could mean, and I am only specdulating here, that flights into Gunnison are less troublesome than flights into Aspen. Perhaps the same is true of other mountain towns. If you have any thoughts on this, Send me and e-mail.