Grays On Trays

What can you do if you love snowboarding but get sick when you go to the mountains? One option is to seek out ski areas that offer a bit-mountain experience at a lower altitude.

Recently I compiled such a list. I started with all the ski areas in the U.S., and then cut out everything with a a vertical drop of less than 2,000 feet. I used this admittedly arbitrary number to define a “real” mountain. For a second cut I looked for places where the base elevation is less than one mile high, or 5,280 feet.

Roughly two dozen areas made the list. Alyeska has the lowest base elevation (250 feet), but it’s in Alaska–a long ways away from most people. Many of the places on the list are in the Pacific Northwest, which has a reputation for wet snow, which many riders find less than ideal. The Northeast (with a reputation for ice) is over-represented on the list. Then again, Jay Peak, Vermont, has a good reputation for powder, and one of my best powder days was at Cannon Mountain, New Hampshire.

So as you might expect, there are some trade-offs to consider. But if altitude sickness is a significant problem for you, they may be worth the trouble.

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 was so wiped out that I came inside for a quick nap.

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.