Emergency Shelters and Group Management on Hills
Why a Group Shelter Belongs in Every Rucksack
British hills are not high by global standards, but they are famously changeable. A sunny ascent of a Lakeland fell can turn into a wind-driven squall within twenty minutes. A group shelter — also called a bothy bag or storm shelter — weighs little and takes up about as much space as a large flask. It is not a tent. It has no poles, no sleeping space, and no pretence of comfort. What it does is break the wind, shed the rain, and trap the warmth of the people inside. In an emergency, that can be the difference between a cold, manageable wait and a serious hypothermia incident.
Carry one even on a summer day. The hills do not consult the forecast. A sudden ankle injury on wet rock, a lost member of the group, or a storm that arrives faster than expected can all leave you stationary and exposed. A group shelter gives you time: time to think, time to treat a casualty, time to call for help. It also gives morale, which in upland conditions is not a soft extra but a vital piece of kit.
Choosing the Right Shelter for Your Group
Match the shelter to the number of people who will actually use it. A shelter rated for four is snug for four adults with rucksacks; a six-person model is more realistic for a family or a small walking club. Look for bright orange or red fabric, taped seams, a clear window, and adjustable vents. A drawcord base lets you seal out the wind. Some designs have a simple hoop or walking-pole sleeve to lift the fabric away from faces. Pack it where you can reach it without emptying your rucksack — usually in the top lid or a side pocket.
- Capacity: two to four for pairs, six to eight for larger groups, with a little extra room for packs and a casualty.
- Setup: some are simple bags, others have poles, hoops, or guy points. Know which you have.
- Access: a large opening that can be held closed from inside, ideally with a toggle or drawcord.
- Visibility: bright colours help rescuers spot you through cloud, rain, and heather.
Setting Up in Wind and Rain
Practise this sequence until it is automatic. Find the most sheltered spot you can — behind a boulder, in the lee of a ridge, away from stream beds and loose rock. Put rucksacks down as a windbreak. One person holds the shelter open while the others climb inside, feet first, sitting on mats or packs rather than bare ground. If someone is injured, get them in first. Once everyone is inside, pull the drawcord around the base and sit with your back to the wind. Open the vents enough to breathe easily, but not so much that you lose warmth. Do not use stoves inside; carbon monoxide is a silent killer. If you need to lift the fabric, use walking poles rather than your hands, which will quickly get cold.
The first minute is the hardest. Fabric flaps, voices compete, and gloves make everything fiddly. That is why repetition matters. On a calm day, set the shelter up in a garden or local park and time yourselves. Then do it again with gloves on, in wind, and in the dark. Learn how to fold it away without turning it into a tangled sail. Check for tears and damp patches after every trip.
Managing the Group Inside
Once inside, the priorities are simple: count heads, check for hypothermia, and communicate. Signs of hypothermia include uncontrolled shivering, slurred speech, clumsiness, and unusual apathy. If you suspect it, insulate the person from the ground, add dry layers, share warm drinks and sugary food, and keep them talking. Assign roles. One person monitors the casualty. One manages the phone and navigation. One checks the group’s morale. Call 999 or 112. If signal is poor, try a text message and move a few metres to a higher, more open spot. Give a grid reference, a description of the location, and the nature of the incident.
Keep the atmosphere calm. Tell stories, sing, share sweets, and remind everyone that help is coming. Listen to the soft hiss of rain on nylon, the distant call of a golden plover, the wind combing through heather. Those sounds are part of the upland experience, even when you would rather be walking. But do not let the shelter become a place to drift. Monitor cold hands and feet, keep checking the time, and be ready to act if conditions improve or worsen.
Practising Before You Need It
Do not wait for a real incident to learn how your shelter works. Make it a regular part of hill days. On a lunch stop, set it up as a windbreak and sit inside while you eat. Get a friend to pretend they have a broken ankle and practise getting them in and keeping them warm. Time how long it takes from rucksack to sealed shelter. In a genuine emergency, you will be cold, wet, and stressed. Familiarity saves minutes, and minutes save fingers, toes, and sometimes lives.
Group management is not just about the shelter. Before you leave, brief everyone: who carries it, where it is, and how to use it. Appoint a leader and a deputy. Agree a turnaround time and a plan for poor weather. If someone is injured, stop the group. Do not split up unless there is no alternative. If you must send for help, send at least two people with a map, compass, phone, and whistle. Leave the shelter with the casualty. A bright, sealed room in the middle of a storm is a small miracle of modern kit. Carry it, know it, and practise it — then you can walk with confidence, even when cloud descends and the wind begins to sing.













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Karla Gleichauf
12 May 2017 at 05:28 pm
On the other hand, we denounce with righteous indignation and dislike men who are so beguiled and demoralized by the charms of pleasure of the moment
M Shyamalan
12 May 2017 at 05:28 pm
On the other hand, we denounce with righteous indignation and dislike men who are so beguiled and demoralized by the charms of pleasure of the moment
Liz Montano
12 May 2017 at 05:28 pm
On the other hand, we denounce with righteous indignation and dislike men who are so beguiled and demoralized by the charms of pleasure of the moment