Suspended by a rope in the flow of a frigid waterfall, SAR team member Cliff Jones decided a nap wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
He’d been hanging there for more than an hour, exposed to water and wind, and his clothing was proving less effective than anticipated against the water pressure.
Feeling quite comfortable, and no longer noticing the cold, Jones’ thoughts drifted from his precarious position.
The body he was tasked with retrieving lay metres away, but it was forgotten in his hazy state.
“I had no feeling of conviction for anything I was doing. I’d lost focus on what it was I was trying to achieve, and I didn’t really care,” he recalls.
Unbeknown to Jones, hypothermia had taken hold and sapped the experienced outdoorsman of his self-preservation instincts and mental faculties.
“There was a really simple system in place to get me out, and I never used it,” he says. “If I gave a series of tugs on a rope, I would be pulled out straight away, but as bad as I was, I still thought I was the one in control.
“In the end, I sort of clung in there and didn’t do anything. I started thinking, ‘I’m actually really comfortable – I’m just going to stay here’.”
Poor visibility and the turbulent environment made communication near impossible, but Jones’ experienced team were able to recognise his worsening state and pull him out.
By that stage, he could barely move his limbs and although he didn’t lose consciousness, he has no recollection of his team’s initial first aid response.
As his core temperature was gradually increased, Jones roused to experience a wave of exhaustion and bewilderment.
“I was wondering what everyone was on about. What was I doing in a sleeping bag and why were the guys overreacting to this, when in fact they were saving my arse,” he says.
Jones isn’t being poetic when he calls hypothermia a ‘silent menace’.
In a very short time span, it can sneak up and hijack the mind of the most experienced trampers.
“You know you’re in an extremely cold situation, and you know you have to look after yourself, but then your next thought is ‘I’m doing okay’,” Jones says. “You don’t deliberately go out to expose yourself to conditions that will potentially take your life, but you just don’t know you’re getting hypothermia.”
Jones has experienced mild hypothermia several times since his first incident, but never as severely as on the waterfall operation.
“I’m totally aware of it now, and I recognise the symptoms very quickly – far quicker than others. It comes with years of being in the outdoors,” he says.
Federated Mountain Clubs ex-president Peter Wilson has also experienced the mental clouding of mild hypothermia and says it can be overcome in its early stages with training and experience.
“You can notice your thinking change, but only if you are aware and monitor it,” he says. “You know that you are gradually going to run down, and you get a chance to alert your mates or stop and treat yourself.
“If you aren’t trained, it’s damned scary and you’ll probably not tell anyone, leaving it up to others to notice the personality change.”
Hypothermia is a real risk of the New Zealand outdoors. It’s indiscriminate of age, fitness and experience, and can strike just about anywhere at any time of year.
Medically speaking, it occurs when the body’s core temperature drops below 35°C.
Dr Malin Zachau is a wilderness medical advisor who has worked alongside NZ LandSAR, NZ Police and Civil Defence to develop the NZ National Accidental Hypothermia Strategy.
She says hypothermia occurs when heat loss in the body is greater than heat production: “The human body generates heat by metabolising energy from food or from energy stored in the liver as glycogen. This fuel allows muscles to move and it is the muscle movement which generates heat. If the heat loss is greater than the heat production, the person becomes hypothermic.”
Cold stress – a state often confused with hypothermia – is the uncomfortable state which precedes it, characterised by a feeling of cold, mild, but not uncontrollable, shivering and stiffening of the fingers.
“If you do not take positive action at this stage, you will develop mild hypothermia,” Dr Zachau says.
Early symptoms include the four memorable ‘umbles’: the mumbles (trouble speaking), the fumbles (a loss of fine motor coordination), the stumbles (lack of large motor coordination), and the grumbles (bad temper and resistance to reason).
According to LandSAR Turangi’s Blake McDavitt, these initial signs are often ignored.
“Gibbering is the body’s first reaction to what could be hypothermia, but I don’t think people in the outdoors realise this is the first stage and they need to be doing something about it there and then,” he says.
In addition to hopefully raising red flags on your declining situation, each symptom is a sign that another of the body’s defence mechanisms is kicking into gear to protect the vital organs.
“The hypothalamus part of the brain notices when the person’s skin gets cold, and in order to conserve heat the peripheral blood vessels are constricted so there is less blood near the cold surface – this is why fingers and toes get cold first, go white and blue, and become less able to move,” Dr Zachau says.
Shivering begins as the muscles move involuntarily to generate more heat, and blood circulation is directed away from the extremities – including the brain – to warm vital organs.
“In mild hypothermia, shivering is uncontrollable and interferes with fine motor skills of fingers which become too stiff to undo a backpack, light a fire or unwrap food,” Dr Zachau says.
Injuries – particularly bleeding – increase the risk of developing hypothermia, regardless of outdoor temperature.
As metabolism changes, blood flow is directed away from the muscles and into the vital organs, preventing them from generating heat.
“Anybody who is injured needs to have their heat loss reduced and should have active heat added,” says Dr Zachau. “This can be done by way of warm water bottles or chemical heating packs placed on the torso, in the armpits and in the groin, taking care not to cause skin burns.”
Staggering and aggression, or irritability, can further endanger the patient by hindering decision making and mobility.
McDavitt has encountered this behaviour on hypothermia rescues and says the best way to deal with it is to try and calm the patient down, and, if possible, give them a bit of energy such as chocolate or Powerade.
“It’s amazing how quickly you can bring a patient around with energy, but you have to be careful you don’t overload them,” he says.

