It seemed to take as long in the van as it would've on a bicycle (which I've done thrice before). Halfway down, we dropped off some guys at Echo Lake who had friends waiting for them (I had no one). Dave had vomited on the way down, from altitude sickness, and when we dropped him off to meet his wife, he vomited again. I was in the back of the van and noticed we weren't moving. Dave was on the ground and the driver, his wife, and another dude were standing by him. They were asking for water. I got out and Dave was white (not Caucasian, but like, white) and breathing heavily. I called back to the guys in the van to ask if anyone had medical experience. The dude sitting in the back row with me had EMT experience and relayed information through me to the people with Dave. After a few rounds of this I told him to get out and supervise because I didn't have his experience in observing vital signs. So dude--don't know his name, I'll just call him Dr. Love--ran the show.
The van then emptied and we took orders from Dr. Love. Dave had a heart rate monitor in his backpack, so I hobbled over and found it for him and we started monitoring. It had shot from 60 to 120 beats per minute, and he wasn't sweating (I was a bit frightened when I noticed my conditions were identical to Dave's, minus the white and vomiting part). Dr. Love had us pour water on Dave for an hour as he kept vomiting and apologizing. When we weren't assisting, some of us just stood over Dave to block the strong sun at 10,000 feet. Dr. Love asked about ambulances and none of us knew anything, so I hobbled up the road in my cleats and found the ranger station at the entrance to the Mt. Evans wilderness and two surprisingly attractive lady rangers (in my day, they all looked like Smokey Bear) who came down the hill with me and advised us on the ambulance. One of the ladies--don't know their names so I'll call them Tiny and Looney Tunes--Tiny phoned the emergency and Looney said we needed someone on the road to wave down the ambulance because of our remote location. I suggested the driver do it (because we had cleats and he had real shoes) but after a while, I could see he was preoccupied with other things, so I hobbled out and watched.
Dave continued to vomit a river with his wife standing by, and it became apparent that Dr. Love and I seemed to be the only two who were taking action--oddly enough, I was the one who said we needed to call the ambulance when no one else wanted to make the call, and when Dave was on his back and wanted to vomit, Dr. Love told him he could turn on his side to do it, and Dave just laid there and stared, so I stepped in, with all my medical expertise, and said,"You NEED to turn on your side now or you'll choke--that's how Led Zeppelin lost their drummer". Dr. Love said,"Yeah, he's right, you need to turn on your side now". I tried to make Dave's wife laugh (any EMT will tell you that laughter is the best medicine, and it's best to laugh while eating an apple). I was able to use my Holiday Inn Express joke when another cyclist asked Dr. Love if he had EMT experience. I told Dave his wife would never let him race again after this--then I told him I felt embarrassed that none of us tried as hard as he did, since I hadn't vomited or needed emergency medical attention all day. The ambulance arrived and Tiny and Looney left, while Dr. Love gave them a detailed analysis of Dave's situation (something I would've never been able to do while thinking of jokes). And like the Keystone Cops, they picked up Dave and hurled him into the ambulance. Dave was going to make it, and I turned to his wife and said,"That's a relief--for a moment I thought we might have to name the race after him". She pointed at me half smiling, half looking like one of those guys in those slow-mo movies from the 1960's showing the effects of excessive G-forces, and said,"That's not funny".
We cleared half the van, and proceeded to the bottom. I spoke to a guy named Ned Rule, and as we were talking, I mentioned Indiana a few times (usually with disdain). He asked
me,"Why do you keep mentioning Indiana?" I said,"I live there"--he said,"Get out! Where?" I said, "Evansville" and he said,"You're sh-ting me!" I said,"No, I wouldn't do that in a van".
Video: Disgusting at the summit
Video: Driving down Mt. Evans
Ned was from Evansville and now lived in Colorado, and his father lived close to my