Madison Tragedgy— A Good Lesson

Twenty-four years ago today a man died of hypothermia on Mt. Madison. It's a humbling story, one that should give any hiker pause when planning for a hike, no matter the time of year.



The story of MacDonald Barr is detailed in Nicholas Howe's book Not Without Peril. Barr, his teenage son and a foreign exchange student, Christian, set out for the Madison Hut on August 24, 1986. The group knew the weather was supposed to deteriorate into the following day, so they chose to summit Madison on their way to the hut, fearing that the weather the next day would prevent a trip to the coned summit. This made for a longer, more difficult and exposed route.

The trio took the Watson Path and, even though it was raining, they faired okay below tree line. Once above 4000' and exposed, their condition deteriorated quickly. They had options though. Halfway between timberline and the summit of Madison, the Pine Link trail intersected their route, providing a much faster and direct route to the warmth of the hut. They chose not to take it. Another option would have been to just turn around to the relative safety of the timberline.

Once they reached the summit, the rain mixed with sleet and winds approached hurricane force. The temperature, 4 miles away across the Great Gulf, had dropped from 49 degrees that morning to 32 that afternoon. Barr, who was wearing long pants, a sweater and a light jacket (no hat or gloves) was severely hypothermic. Christian had pushed ahead to the hut, while Barr's son, Tavis, lingered behind with his father. Shortly after the summit Barr became so hypothermic he could no longer walk. He sat between two rocks and Tavis ran ahead to the hut for help.

On a clear day it feels like you can throw a rock from the summit of Madison and hit the hut. While it isn't that short a distance, it is by no means far. About 600 vertical feet and a little over a half mile. On a good day, it can take an agile hiker 15 minutes to cover the distance.

Tavis was met by a member of the hut crew, Alexei, who left the hut to try and help the pair. He checked on Tavis for a moment and then continued towards the summit to find Barr. Tavis would eventually need help from two other members of the hut crew to cover the final tenth of a mile to the hut.

Alexei found Barr just below the summit and completely incoherent. He resisted help and only mumbled in return. He was convulsing. The conditions were so poor and Barr so hypothermic that the rescuer could do nothing to help him to shelter. After trying to give him warm clothing and hot jello (he resisted both) Alexi, who was struggling himself, returned to the hut to see if a larger rescue could be mounted.

The hut crew eventually decided that the conditions were too poor and a rescue carry too far fetched to risk sending others from the hut to rescue Barr. They didn't have the man power. It was a controversial decision but one I completely agree with. Given the conditions no other rescuers were able to reach Barr until the next morning when he was found dead.

Now Mom, don't worry, I will be fine living in Madison Col. Thanks to L.L. Bean (Thank you Dad for working there) and Ibex I have a dozen sheep worth of wool clothing—and shelter too. I am thankful for both.

Today's weather in Southern Maine made me think of the tragedy on Madison a quarter-century ago. Even though I worked inside most of the day, just going outside to fetch tools or materials was enough to get my long-sleeve cotton shirt and Carhartts wet (but not soaked). When I got home, I needed a hot shower just to get warm. The mountains offer no such luxury—I am still waiting for someone to discover a hot spring in the Presidential Range.

Just over a year ago I was caught in a thunderstorm on Franconia Ridge. The lightning missed me, but the rain did not. Espresso and I were both soaked to the core, me through my Gore-Tex jacket and hood. I had planned to hike further that day, but set up a quick camp just below tree line. I was frozen. Thankfully, I had a dry wool layer (long underwear and top) in my pack. That night, the temperature dropped into the low 30's—it was freakin' JULY! Espresso, unable to change out of his coat, shivered most of the night in the tent. I only had my 40 degree sleeping bag, which doesn't unzip, so I couldn't share any of my warmth with him. I stayed up most of the night, running my stove once in awhile to warm the tent for both of us.

MacDonald Barr, and the hole I burnt in the mesh of my tent door that cold night on the Franconia Ridge, are my reminders to always be prepared—and to keep flames away from the walls of my tent.