My Saturday: I woke up a bit hungover and cold and began to pack for my little intro winter backpacking hike I was doing with my friend Steve. He picked me up around 1pm and I threw my snowshoes, ice climbing stuff and my backpack into the truck and after a quick stop at the grocery store we were on our way to Tinker's Falls, just outside of Tully, NY. We met our friend Dan there, who was ice climbing on one of the side columns. It was a really tough route and I'm not very good, but I did get to explain some axe placement to Steve which was fun. Steve and I went back to the truck to get our packs for the 1.5mile hike to the overlook, where we would be camping for the night. The parking lot was a mess of tire ruts and deep snow, and sure enough a small car got hopelessly stuck, so we spent the next hour figuring out how to pull them out. Finally, it was 3:30 and we needed to head up to make the best of the sunlight, so on we went. I had to stop frequently to catch my breath, cursing my pervious night's activities and promising to never drink again. Steve was patient but it did not help my overwhelming feeling of salliness. Up top it was rather windy but we managed to get the tent set and everything moved in before dark. Dan met us up there with his snowboard with the plan to board down the bobsled-like trail. As he summited, he ripped off his jacket and subsequent top layers, ran to the edge and stood, looking out on the dusk in the valley. At this time three skiers came out of the woods on the other side of the clearing. What a thing to ski upon; a half naked man standing on the edge of a cliff in 15-20degree temps with a strong windchill. Turned out the three skiers were three of my friends, so we had a nice chat before they headed on. One of the skiers, Jay, said that when he saw Dan he thought, "Great, not another naked skier." So Amy, Jay and Decker skied on, and Dan readied himself to snowboard down the darkened hill as Steve and I set up my little whisperlite stove for a dinner of soup. I was still feeling a bit hungover and not in the mood to eat, so I gathered firewood as a source of heat. After a little fire, even colder temps and biting wind, Steve and I gave up and went into the tent to sleep. I have a great 0 degree bag that I just LOVE, so I donned my balaclava, glove liners and fleece and clambered into my mummy sack, warm and slightly comfortable (I have a bad back, so nothing is ever comfortable). Sleep was fitful and Steve didn't sleep well, so we had minute long conversations all night consisting of, "You asleep?" "Nope, not really. You cold?" "A little. But my neck hurts like crazy." "Yeah, mine too." Then we would proceed to doze for a bit, then the process would repeat itself. When the morning finally rolled around we awoke to snowfall that threatened to get heavier any minute, so we quickly tore down camp and hustled down to the truck, chosing to have breakfast once we got out. It was a fun trip, I was so mad at myself about other stuff that I could hardly enjoy myself, and I hate being cold. Why in God's name did a girl from Virginia go to college up north, then decide to go camping outside in the north? I shall never know, and I know that I should, being that I've been here for over three years.
I need to get up to the Adirondacks more this winter, but now I'm so out of shape I'm almost ashamed to!
