The Arroyo Seco drains the Coast Ranges east of Big Sur and flows through the Salinas Valley into the Salinas River.  There is a campground located about 30 miles west of Greenfield.  Several hiking trails start from the Arroyo Seco Campground; some of which connect to other trails and allow one to cross over the Santa Lucia Mountains to the Pacific Ocean.

The typical day-trip I do in this area involves:

• hiking ~2.5 miles on a fire road which parallels the Arroyo Seco
• dropping into the river at the Horse Bridge
• hiking / wading / swimming / floating ~1 mile upstream to an obvious waterfall
• climbing up the waterfall, eating lunch, and taking a break
• returning by staying in the river until the last half mile
• hiking up to the fire road and to the car

I have done this trip several times, but always in August, never in April.  Some co-workers invited me to a weekend of camping at Arroyo Seco, and the first thing that crossed my mind was, “yes, we can hike up the river! it’ll be FUN!”.  The day of though, everyone in the group wanted to sit by the river, and spend the day reading, drinking, eating, and relaxing.  And so, I hiked on my own.

In August, the air temperature is typically in the 80s (F), and the water temperature is probably in the high 60s.  For the first half mile in the river, one is hiking in the river and the water level varies back and forth from ankle deep, to knee deep, to chest deep, and sometimes one can hike along the river through the trees and shrubs.  The last half mile involves swimming across deeper pools and through a gorge with rock walls 3′ apart and rising up to 50′ above the river.

The waterfall is sometimes a trickle of water, sometimes a rush, but climbing above it is not a difficult task.  This April though, it was a torrent of whitewater which one couldn’t swim against.  Another group of hikers in wetsuits tried swimming against the current without success.  I spent about 20 minutes here in the water trying to find a way to get to the waterfall by clinging to the sides of the rocks or climbing above them.  But, no success.  By now, I was starting to feel a bit cold, but I figured it was because I was standing around, in the water, in the shade.  Once I started moving down river, I thought, I would warm up.  So I headed back.

When I was swimming through the gorge, I realized that I wasn’t getting any warmer, and I had started to shiver, my hands were feeling numb, and my jaw was chattering.  I still had about 100′ to swim before the river widened.  There, I could find some rocks under the sun and warm up.  But I was having a tough time moving my arms and legs.  Hypothermia was setting in.

By the time I reached a wide open area, and I could stand in the river, my jaw was chattering uncontrollably at 300 times per minute.  I had to make sure I didn’t bite my tongue.  I could not feel my fingertips, and I could not grasp the rock edges to pull myself.  My body would not stop shaking, and my arm muscles were contracting and pretty much useless.  I had to get out of the water immediately, but moving my legs to walk was an Herculean task.  Walking should be second-nature, but I had to deliberately think about the motions at every step: which leg to move, where to plant my foot, how to roll my foot, lock my knee, repeat with the next leg.  I was tripping over my own feet, sometimes falling into the water, and having a tough time getting up.  I wasn’t worried yet.  I just needed to get out of the water, unto some warm rocks, under the sun, and I’d start warming back up to 98.6° F.

When I finally reached some rock ledges, it probably took me 5 minutes to remove my shoes, socks, shorts, and shirt, and shake the water off my body.  That’s a pretty long time; think about it.  But I could not move quickly, my motor skills were deteriorating.  I lay down on a rock to absorb its heat.  15 minutes later, I didn’t feel any warmer, the shivering had not subsided, and my jaw continued to chatter like a typewriter in a newsroom from the 70s.

The thought of dying out here, alone, began to cross my mind.  Who would find me?  When?  How?  I was up on a rock, not easily visible from the river where almost everyone stays in.  I had told my co-workers where I was going, but I didn’t explain in detail on a map the route which I would take.  There weren’t any other hikers on this day, and the group in wetsuits were long gone by now.  But, I also didn’t think it was my time to go yet.  I’ve climbed mountains in winter before; I’ve spent sleepless nights in sub-zero temperatures; I’ve camped and slept through 6 hours of pea-sized hail.  How embarrassing to die on such a sunny day with a beautiful view.  Too mundane!

Arroyo Seco

I could hear birds chirping all around, their sounds echoing in the canyon; insects were buzzing overhead; an ant was crawling on my leg; the leaves on the trees were fluttering in the wind; the water was gurgling through the rocks, it was very peaceful.  Another 15 minutes later, the shivering began to slow down, my jaw was sore but it also stopped chattering, and I could feel sensation returning to my fingertips.  I was feeling better, all systems returning to normal.  I stayed where I was for another 15 minutes, enjoying the sun, keeping in mind that I still had another half-mile of travel in and out of the water.  I dreaded the thought of having to get back in the water, but it was inevitable; it was the only way back to camp.  I would move quickly to stay warm, look for paths through the trees and shrubs, climb on the sides of the rock walls.

I was relieved when the Horse Bridge came into view.  This is the first access point back unto the fire road, out of the water.  Once on it, I would dry off quickly because a section of the trail is completely exposed to the sun.  I was more relaxed, and I began to think through all the bad decisions I made earlier.  When hiking with a group, I am always observing the behaviour of others, looking for signs of trouble, inquiring about their state of mind, whether they need a break, etc…  I ignored my own signs when I first started to feel cold, and I pressed on.  Mental note to self.

Along the way, I saw this guy sunning on a rock.  I found it funny that I was doing the exact same thing a couple of hours before, except that I probably didn’t look as happy as he did.