Cold Fear Balaclava
Reginald Hanfy
Chickens wear sneaky balaclavas (and not-so-sneaky balaclavas) when they are sneaking around, making secret escape plans.Add a pompom to this one, and you could make an adorable chicken-balaclava for your favorite kid.
So, you remember when I was complaining about how cold it was? Turns out I was completely wrong. 20 degrees is lovely, balmy weather. Practically a tropical paradise. It seems especially lovely when you have Christmas cookies and hot chocolate, and the only time you go outside is when you feel like going skiing.
What follows below is my own system for staying comfortable (enough) while fishing the winter months. Soft, snowy days in the silent forest, with the solitary song of flowing water passing by are my favorite. I prefer January over July. I welcome the first crisp days of fall and the wool gloves that come with me.
I wear a fishing vest with a large pocket in the back to store extra layers. Some guys choose a backpack. I also roll up fleece shirts lengthwise and store them inside my waders above my belt, at the small of my back.
That said, there are some things to spend a little money on. Outdoor clothing tech has come a long way, so take advantage of it. The right layers are a good long term investments in your fishing life. Just look for sales.
Balaclavas like this are efficient. Keep it around your neck until the wind kicks in. Then bring it over the top like a hood. And when you really want to feel warm, put the thick fleece over your face. Breath into the fleece. The heat from your lungs circulates under the fleece and warms your neck and face. So, so good.
I have two styles of balaclavas now. In addition to the one above, I carry a thinner one that my Mom made for my boys. She made it smaller for them, but it turns out to be a perfect choice for when I want less bulk and a little extra warmth. If you ask nice, maybe Mom will make one for you too. But if Mom says no, these Turtle Fur Neck Warmers are very similar.
Boot foot waders are another option, but I prefer to stay with stocking foot waders because I hike a lot while fishing. I want the support of a solid boot. I can fit up to three pair of thick wool socks inside the neoprene bootie, and by upsizing the boot, I have the room to put it all in there.
For many years, my winter routine included toe warmers. I still have them in my bag if I need them, but the third pair of wool socks usually does the trick. But remember, I move a lot. If you plan to fish cold water in slow pools, you might need toe warmers.
Quick tip on these toe warmers: They are designed to heat in low oxygen environments. But they do need SOME oxygen. Get them warm before you apply them. And hours later, if they seem cold, take your boot off and let some air down into the foot of the waders for a second. The warmers will heat up again.
Most anglers focus on whether to choose a chest pack, vest, sling pack, hip pack, lanyard or something else. We think of carrying fly boxes, tippet, leaders and other incidentals. But what about the net? What about water, a wading staff, a camera or anything else with extra weight? Carrying these items should not be a secondary consideration. As the heaviest things among your gear, how you carry them is of primary importance.
The 100 Day Gear Review Series on Troutbitten takes a look at how gear is performing after the century benchmark. The Orvis Pro Wading Boots have outperformed my expectations. They are light but extra-solid. They are durable, comfortable and have excellent support in all the right ways. These are great boots . . .
Winter fishing is also my favorite time to fish. Hot seat warmers are by far the best warmers out there. They unfold to a 1212 size and have an adhesive on one side so you can stick them on the inside of one of your jacket layers. The adhesive leaves no residue whatsoever. They stay very warm for 5 plus hours. Very comfortable in 35 degree weather last weekend. My best gear for winter fishing. Hot seat warmers .com out of Verona NJ
I am very excited to experience all that a winter on Mount Washington has to offer. I also feel incredibly lucky to have one of the most beautiful views I can imagine from my desk, looking out at the Northern Presidentials.
In my brief time on the summit, I have already experienced a slew of firsts, including using a mallet as part of a job (to de-ice the wind instruments), being encased in rime ice while de-icing said instruments, experiencing wind gusts over 100mph, commuting to work via snow tractor, and being an active part in one of the biggest weather stories in America on Feb. 3 and 4.
Francis and I were looking at weather models last shift and it was apparent we might get some very cold weather on the summit during the first weekend of February. This was after January had been snowy but the warmest on record for the summit, with only three days below normal, and a monthly average temperature of 10.3 F above normal. However, weather models that far into the future are not always accurate, and I did not think much of it. Boy was I wrong.
By the time of our shift change meeting on Wednesday, Feb. 1, the predicted cold was well within the time frame that model forecasts are fairly accurate, and we were predicting winds over hurricane-force to coincide with potentially record-breaking cold temperatures, producing nearly unfathomably cold wind chills.
This was also when I was told that it was likely that I would need to assist our night observer, Alexis, during the coldest time period Friday night, possibly into early Saturday morning, in anticipation of breaking not only the all-time Mount Washington Observatory station record of -47 F set on January 29, 1934, but possibly surpassing the coldest temperature ever observed in New Hampshire in modern history, the -50 F observed on January 22, 1885 by the Army Signal Corps on Mount Washington. (And yes, our station record is not -50 F because of the nuances involved in instrument siting and the lack of continuity between when the Signal Corps stopped recording weather information in the 1890s and when Mount Washington Observatory was established in 1932.)
I knew already that if we were to get near that cold, I would probably not be sleeping through Friday night anyway, but would be refreshing the current conditions page on my phone through the night. All-time records at stations which have existed for 90+ years are hard to come by, and I was ready for it.
The model output statistics for the two models we use as guidance for issuing our Higher Summits Forecasts were calling for temperatures down to -50 F, well under our station record. The first indications that Mount Washington would soon be front-page news started on Thursday with Francis fielding interview requests from The Boston Globe, CBS, CNN, NPR, and Reuters, sometimes even having the phone ringing in another room while he was already on a call.
This reached a head for me, personally, when browsing on my phone before going to bed Thursday night, I saw an article in The New York Times mention our -100 F wind chill forecast for Friday night. I tried and was ultimately successful in getting some sleep Thursday night before getting up bright and early at 2:30 a.m. Friday to assist Alexis when the weather started to deteriorate. It would be quite the memorable next day and a half for us at the summit.
Mind you, I did not think that I was volunteering for a well-over 24-hour shift, which started when I woke up on Friday. According to most models we had been looking at, the window during which we would experience the absolute minimum temperature was supposed to be fairly narrow between about 10:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. Friday night into early Saturday morning. Instead, we dropped to -45 F by the 6:00 p.m. observation on Friday, and did not rise above -45 F until the 7:00 a.m. observation on Saturday morning, 13 hours later.
Since we were so close to the all-time record low for much of this time, beginning around 10:00 p.m. on Friday, we began taking measurements every half-hour, and by 12:15 a.m., we started to take them every 15-20 minutes until 5:15 a.m., ultimately totaling 22 measurements during these seven hours. This entailed basically non-stop work with very little downtime since it took about 3-4 minutes to get dressed to go out in the extreme conditions, about 4-5 minutes to take the observation, and then about 1-2 minutes to remove gear and breathe before attempting to do it all again.
Why would I remove gear? Because sweating underneath all those clothes, especially going outside as frequently as I did, would have been a recipe for disaster. And on top of that, it was very hard to move my head freely and breathe with a facemask, sweatshirt hood, hat, puffy hood, shell hood, goggles, and a headlight (for the night shift) all on at the same time.
Properly suited up underneath six layers on the top, three layers on the bottom, incredibly thick boots, and a combination of three hoods, a balaclava, a hat, a neck gaiter, and goggles, it was not all that bad. You immediately noticed any exposed skin, which felt most like a pretty severe sunburn. Even unexposed skin that was near creases or cracks of clothing felt like a low-degree burn, which for me was the gap between the top of my goggles and all of my hoods. As long as you were only out for a few minutes at a time in the lee of the tower it was almost comfortable. With more exposure to the wind, however, it cut right through to my legs, like they had been dunked in cold water, especially when I went out for two short stints on the parapet. Holding anything metallic, like a phone (more on this in a bit) or the sling psychrometer, almost immediately made those fingers cold, with a slight numbness noticeable after a few minutes. On top of the cold was of course the wind, which as soon as you stepped out onto the observation deck sounded like the constant roar of jet engines at some remove on a plane that refused to take off.
For the most part, we let nature do the work, especially during the worst of the conditions. Since we were experiencing such cold temperatures with considerable winds, we mostly sheltered ourselves behind a windscreen in the lee of the tower while sticking one arm holding the sling psychrometer (for non-meteorologists: a thermometer) through the windscreen slats into the wind. Since the summit was in the fog for most of the arctic blast, we were most interested in the dry bulb reading, especially for the sub-hourly observations Friday night into Saturday morning. After holding it steady for a few minutes in order for the temperature to stabilize to near the ambient air temperature, we would quickly read it at its lowest point, or move several yards downwind of the tower, sling for 20-30 additional seconds, and read it then. Later on, thinking that we had been too close to the building, I went to a slightly more exposed location for about 30 seconds before dashing back into the lee of the building to take measurements as quickly as possible, as it was impossible to hold the thermometer still enough to take measurements in the blustery winds. Quick measurements were necessary because the temperature would often rise a few tenths of a degree the longer we held the thermometer steady in the lee of the building, presumably due to the combination of the building, mittened hands, and faces all becoming significant heat sources at such low temperatures.
c80f0f1006