'The sight of my semi-comatose teenage son draped like a rag doll over the back of a mule has left its scars': Pamela Goodman on the perils of high altitude hiking

The sight of my semi-comatose teenage son draped like a rag doll over the back of a mule has left its scars. No surprise, perhaps, given this was a particularly reckless turn of events — one in a number of what I call ‘irresponsible mother’ moments of which I am not proud — that could have played out very differently. His affliction was altitude sickness.

I have been thinking a good deal about altitude sickness, or acute mountain sickness (AMS) as it is more correctly known, over the past few weeks, in anticipation of a forthcoming trip to the Himalayas. How might I fare given a chequered medley of high-altitude experiences over the years?

Following the obvious rules for AMS avoidance — the importance of allowing plenty of time to acclimatise, no speedy ascents above 2,500m and sleeping