winter camping
who reads this anymore? if you do, thank you for persevering. today, i will tell you all about my bout with Winter Camping. hang in there, it's a long one.
i belong to a chicago backpackers group through meetup.com. i loved camping as a kid and have done it fairly consistently since i was old enough to schlep my friends to campsites in the area and roast marshmallows and get rained on. but backpacking and camping are really two separate things. i never really thought about backpacking until i met my husband. he is an Eagle Scout and has been all over with a pack on his back. he would tell me stories about him and his dad and brother hiking in to all these strange places, with only the packs on their back to sustain them. food, clothing, shelter. waking up with rattlesnakes in their boots. seemed like fun (well, maybe not the rattlesnakes). i was curious to know if i could get by camping like that.
over the years, we went camping, but "car camping," as scott called it. you throw everything in your car, drive to a campsite, set up, and sit around and drink. you don't have to pack light. you can bring that huge, 4 person tent for two people. bring that cooler, full-size pillow, four pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes. you want a camp chair? hell, yeah, throw that in there, too. my step-mother brings her whole house when she "camps," packing things in those 50-gallon plastic tubs. even i thought that was a bit much. but only the size of your car limited you on how much stuff you could bring. watching my friends car camp made me think about how extravagant it all was. the only "roughing it" part was sleeping on the ground... and then most of us had air mattresses.
then i was introduced to the Chicago Backpacking group. i met a friend who would talk about his adventures of real backpacking. camping, hiking, actually roughing it. so i joined the group. signed up for a bootcamp to see how it would go. rented a pack from REI and found the night before, that it didn't fit around my hips. awesome. 8pm the night before the trip and i didn't have a pack. this wasn't a good sign. went BACK to REI and found a sale pack that was perfect. ok, things were looking up. crammed everything into that pack that i would need and away we went.
aside from the copious amounts of hills, i survived that trip. and fell in love with the concept of packing only what you need to survive. nothing extra. everything you need must fit in that pack. there's not much wiggle room. no tent fans, no huge lanterns, no camp stoves. so really, i fell in love with the gadgets. tiny stoves, wee pillows, lightweight tents, minimalist sleeping bags. the less your pack weighed, the better. i bought real hiking shoes. hiking pants. a 2 lb sleeping bag. a 2 lb tent. a cooking pot that doubles as an insulated cup and storage for your tiny stove and propane canister. the key is versatility.
i signed up for a summer pack and paddle in august. we hike in, sleep over, then the next day, drop our packs off with a guy who gives us kayaks, and we paddle back. it was awesome. we all sit around and talk about gear and being outdoors and what we do and all that rot. most of these people i have never met before. it was on this trip that one of the organizers was talking about winter camping. i said, if you organize a trip, i'll go.
finally, i december, i see a trip pop up for an overnight winter trip that included a candlelight ski event. hell yeah. that looked awesome. so i signed up. the only real thing i would need to get was a better sleeping bag. my 40 degree wasn't going to cut it. after debating whether to buy a better bag or a thermal liner, i just ended up asking a friend to borrow his. that way, if it sucks, then i haven't thrown any money away. his bag is 15 degrees, which i thought would be perfect for this trip. the low both night was supposed to be 25-30 degrees. perfect.
i packed two pairs of long underwear, fleece-lined tights, an extra sleeping pad, windproof pants, real snow boots, wool socks. i had bought snow pants, but thought that it might be too warm for those. so with everything planned out, i packed and headed out.
my stuff. blue stuff sack full of clothes, pink stuff sack full of food, green apple bag, full of loose incidentals.
Day 1
we car camped the first night at Ottawa Lake in Wisconsin. driving into a campsite in January is reminiscent of a horror movie. it's dark and desolate. it seems like there's a hint of humanity in the plowed roads, but there isn't a person in site. finally, i saw one car. i stopped and asked if he was part of the backpacking group. this is where everyone in the audience starts yelling at the screen to turn back. but he applied to the affirmative and i pulled in.
it was cold friday night. probably 25, but the wind was brisk. after stomping down the snow in the area i had claimed, i commenced setting up my tent in the dark. with gloves on. used a mallet to get the tent stakes in because the ground was frozen. got my pack from the car and started throwing stuff in the tent. pad, sleeping bag, clothes. i could barely feel my hands. as i was crawling about in the tent to set up the sleeping bag, with my knees scrunching in the snow beneath the tent floor and my booted feet in the snow outside the tent, i wondered again what the fuck i was thinking when i signed up for this trip.
my tent has paper-thin walls. that's what makes it so lightweight. it also has mesh that goes almost all the way down to the floor. some tents have thicker material that comes up a few inches that would prevent a breeze from blowing in your face while you're laying in your sleeping bag in 19 degree wind chill. mine didn't have that. i could lay in my bag and stare directly out into the wintery landscape. also, my rain fly didn't come all the way down to the ground. so i was getting a little nervous about how warm i would be while sleeping.
people started to show up. Lindsey and Curtis. Rachel and Kelly. Nadia and Sarah. Brandon and Marion. sonja, the main organizer, had to back out because she was sick. tents were set up, beer was brought out, plastic water flasks that held whiskey were passed around. Mark was trying to light this coleman stove from the 1960s that he had found in his storage unit. jet boils were brought out and dinner was consumed. i ate the other half of my subway. a fire was started and i tried to keep my biscuits warm. wood smoke and i don't get along, so i had to strategically position myself to prevent myself from sneezing. my eyes burned and watered, and tears froze on my cheeks. really, what the hell was i thinking.
after a while and a half-ass attempt at making a warming bottle for the sleeping bag, i called it a night. nothing like crawling into an ice cold sleeping bag. the bottle started to leak, so that was out. plus it was already cold by the time i finally got my shit together and got myself in the bag. my toes were frozen. my ass and thighs were frozen. this was going to be fun.
i finally decided to put on the fleece sleep pants i had brought along. have you ever tried to dress yourself while ensconced in a mummy bag? you feel like a fat inch worm having a seizure. i finally got the pants on with much effort, the good side effect being that my feet were no longer cold. my ass, on the other hand, was still numb. i broke out the Tom Skilling snuggy that i grabbed at the last minute (i know, i know, this really wasn't a necessity, but it turned out that it was) and crammed that down in the bag, too. finally, i was starting to warm up. in addition to my hat, two neck warmers, and my two layers on top, nestled about 2 feet into the bag (it's a long bag, my friend is tall) i was finally able to get warm.
now if i could only get comfortable. sigh.
toss. get cold. turn. get cold. wrestle with the liner and the snuggy. get hot. stick your head out of the bag for fresh air. get cold. move. lose warm spot on the sleeping pad. the never-ending struggle. i finally fell asleep. then...
the call of nature.
and not nature #1, either. the jerk.
wriggle out of the bag into the cold. unzip the tent (which, because you put it up in the dark, is set up a little cock-eyed, so the zipper is hard to work because it isn't taught), cram the boots on without getting snow in the tent, unzip the rain fly, stand up without taking the tent with you, zip up the tent, zip up the fly. crunch down the icy road to the pit toilet. feel the cold breeze coming up from the pit toilet. crunch back, do everything in reverse. get back in the bag without shoving liner all the way in the bottom of the bag (fail). try to wrap snuggy around you without pulling arm out of the socket. check the time and wonder how much longer you have to do this until the sun comes up. wish you hadn't been the second one to pull into the camp site because now your car is blocked in and you can't make a run for it. realize it's only 1:30am and you have a good 5 hours to go. sigh and try to fall asleep.
Day 2
i woke up at 7am. people (cough, Doug) were snoring. my face was puffy from the wood smoke and sleeping on the ground. i could see my breath in the tent. yeah, i didn't want to get out. i was finally warm. but i was also hungry. so i got up and did the boot/tent shuffle.
that's snow outside of my tent. mesh all the way down, rainfly not even close to the ground
boots outside. snow. me, not wanting to get up. eyes swollen and red from wood smoke.
the day's activities were going to varied by group. one group was going to pack up their crap and head over to Lapham Peak and backpack overnight there. the other group was going to stay put in Ottawa. Lindsey was supposed to go backpacking, but she said she didn't feel like breaking down her stuff and decided to stay. a few others followed her lead. i could understand that decision. if i hadn't already deflated my sleeping pad and stuffed my sleeping bag, i probably would have stayed put, too. the one thing holding me back: no toilet. but then sarah said that there was a pit toilet at the backpack site in Lapham. fine, i'll go.
this is about the time i realized who Brandon is. Brandon is a guy whom i met five years ago while working at Starbucks in Uptown. he would come in often and sit at the bar next to the espresso machine and chat. we ended up becoming friends. i tried to help him with some design stuff he was working on, but it was beyond my expertise. then he started to ask me out to lunches and dinners and i felt like he wanted it to be a bit more. eventually, i left that starbucks and he slipped from my memory.
he showed up at this trip. how random is that? i didn't even know he was into backpacking. and i guess he's been doing it a while. he knew all about the backpacking site we were going to and details about the park. he didn't end up staying a second night because he had to be back in the city. but what a small world. seriously.
so the people who are leaving pack up. the ones who are staying watch us. eventually, we all trundle over to Lapham Peak to hang out. the whole group hiked into the backpacking site, which was about two miles from where we parked. we kept going and going and going. i was in the front, which was a bad idea, because i had no idea where the turn off was for the campsite. i thought there would be a sign or something. nope. walked right past it. after about another 15-20 minutes, someone was like, "hey, did we pass it?" so we all turned around and went back. and there was the sign. thanks, Lapham. we trudged into camp and surveyed the land. picnic table, privy, fire pit. works for me. i picked a place under a few pine trees and commenced the stomping of the snow. setting up the tent during the day would be better. i could make the rainfly tight so i didn't have to yell at it every time i needed to get out.
tent set up at Lapham Peak. I look so smug.
once the tents were set up, we went back down to where we parked the cars and decided what to do. sarah and i were going to cross country ski, the rest of the group would hike and cause general shenanigans. we split and agreed to meet back at the warming house at designated times. i went to rent my skis. the ski hut was run by two 17-year-old boys. for $25, they hooked me up with skis, boots, and poles. i dragged them out to the trail and met up with sarah, who had her own skis. i proceeded to click the toe of my boots into the skis.... and nothing. tried again. nope. again and again and again. nope, nope, nope. sarah tried. nope. i could not get my goddamn boot into these skis. i'm no dummy, but i know how skis work. we finally decided that there was something we were missing about these binding, so i grabbed my gear and marched back to the ski hut. i walked in, walked up to the blond kid and said, "how do you put these on?"
he chuckled. "i guess i should have shown you how to do that, huh?"
hahah. yeah, maybe.
you lift up the tip of the binding. that opens up the slot to put your shoe in. sigh. people are dying of cancer and this is what research we're doing: fucking with the years-old tradition of ski bindings.
so, that problem being solved, i couldn't wait to get out and get my ski on. so i got my skis on. and holy shit, were they slick. as in slippery. as in, i looked like a toddler trying to skate for the first time. i'd glide forward, and the ski would slip back. or they would slide sideways. this isn't my first skiing rodeo... i've enjoyed this sport before. i'm also a fine roller blader. but damn, this was turning out to be tricky. sarah was on her way, gliding along. i was jerking along behind her, like a spastic clown. it didn't help that the tracks were ice. i tried to ski out of the tracks. i tried to ski in the tracks. the tracks were better. they prevented me from sliding sideways more. the trick, i would find out later, would be going up hill. i couldn't. i couldn't get enough momentum to go up. so i turned my skis out and tromped up that way. but on one hill, that didn't work either. here's how it played out: slide backwards. fall. slide some more on butt. hoist myself up with poles and brute upper arm strength (insert laughter here). repeat. finally i got the big idea to take the damn skis off and walk up the hill and then put the skis back on. christ.
and on it went. poor sarah. she was so patient. she works with pre-school kids, so she's probably used to dealing with this kind of stuff. at one point, she wanted to go up and around part of another trail, but i had no desire to drag this out any longer than necessary, so she went off my herself. i took the short cut, managed not to fall, and met up with her at the pass. there were some down hills that were impressive that i managed not to fall on. the speed was fun. and i think by sheer will (and hip strength) i managed not to eat ice on those hills.
this is my "this sucks but i'm making the most of it" smile while skiing.
and then we were done with skiing, and not a moment too soon. we all met at the warming hut and drove to a closer parking lot to the campsite. it was supposed to rain on Sunday and we didn't want to hike any farther than necessary on the way out. we grabbed some firewood that was behind the pit toilet and headed down the trail. there were five of us staying over at Lapham, me. sarah, nadia, kelly, and our sole male, curtis. curtis had all the good gadgets. he had a ratchet strap that he wrapped around some logs and dragged them along the trail. he also had a cool glow stick flashlight and a french press for his JetBoil. now that's a serious backpacker.
so we got back to the site. we sat and ate a bit. and i started to get cold. i was wearing fleece-lined tights under waterproof, windproof pants. and i got pretty sweaty while skiing. so my tights are soaked. but i don't notice. i just knew that i was getting cold and i that kept thinking if we got a move on towards the candlelight ski event, that i would warm up.
nope. we walked and my ass and thighs got colder. we climbed the tower and noticed all of the traffic for the event. and my lower region got colder. we walked to the building that was hosting the event and i was freezing. we went inside and i thought, "finally, i can warm up." we got a table and sat down and enjoyed watching the hundreds of people come and go. but my legs are frozen. nadia offered me her fleece pants. i accepted. i took off my waterproof pants. and that's when i found out that the pants were all wet on the inside, as were my fleece leggings. shit. until i get dry, there was no way i was going to warm up.
inside the warming house during the candlelight ski event.
i wiped down the inside of the pants. i stood outside by the bonfire, and that helped. but every time i stepped away, the cold would just seep back in. the group wanted to walk the candle-lit trails and i felt warm enough, so we set off. and within a few minutes, my legs were just as cold as before. it was really irritating. if i just would have changed after skiing, i'd be fine. but nope.
i ended up cutting the trail walk short so i could go back to the warming house. the rest (except nadia, who kept me company. what a trooper) went on to do the full mile loop. i stood by the fire again and attempted to warm my biscuits. finally, the rest of the group came back and we headed back to the campsite.
there is something to be said about being the only people staying on-site at Lapham. the event was packed, 2,500 people in the park were enjoying the candlelight ski and hike. after it was done, everyone else left in their cars, but we were staying. it was a cool feeling. hiking back down the trail in the dark, in the snow, knowing that you're going to stay out in a tent on a night that some people wouldn't even go outside. granted, it was 37 degrees, which was much warmer than the previous night, but still. when we told people that we were camping, people were impressed. and i guess i was impressed with myself for not having backed out. i had several opportunities, but i really wanted to know what it was like. this same trip last year was only a one night car camping trip. maybe i shouldn't have jumped in with a two night trip and backpacking. but i felt that i had done something substantial. something that, had it been on my bucket list, i would have been able to cross off.
of course, after all that, i was honestly just happy that it was my last night in the cold.
we got back to the site and i peeled off my outer pants and my fleece-lined tights. my skin was really cold and clammy. yargh. even in the open air, my skin felt warmer than in those wet tights. live and learn, i guess. i put some dry tights on, put on my Homer Simpson tangled in Christmas lights fleece sleep pants on and felt 100% better. ahhhhhh. we attempted to make a fire. i heated up water for my hot water sleeping bottle and tried not to fall asleep. once my water was hot, i headed off to bed.
bed. snort. i mean a cold feather-filled lump of fluff on my sleeping pads, on my tent floor, that's mere centimeters from hard-packed snow. let the fun begin.
the water bottle helped, but with a cold butt and thighs, there is just too much real estate to cover with a tiny 24 ounce bottle. i needed something larger, a human. a space heater. an electric blanket. but eventually, i warmed up. and tucked way down where the cold couldn't find me, i finally fell asleep.
i woke up to rain later that night and remembered that sarah was sleeping out in her bivvy sack with her tarp under her, rather than over her. she said the next day that right after she got done moving the tarp and tying it down, it stopped raining. ha. of course. i woke up again due to nature's call, but i told it to call back later. and i woke up again at 7:30, feeling like a warm, toasty cinnamon bun, not wanting to get out. but alas, it had to be done. so we packed up our stuff, ate breakfast, and headed out.
due to the rain, the trek out was much slipperier than the previous night. i had bought new trekking poles and lent one to Kelly for the trip up and out. Curtis had lost one of his yak trax the night before but had woke up early enough to go back out to relocate it. i had put on three layers of clothes and was finally warm, but by the time we got to the cars, i thought i was going to die of heat exhaustion. some day i'll find that balance between slab of meat and boiled water. i put my pack in my car and, in doing so, tweaked a muscle in my back. and it started to rain. ah, the final forks in a well-done trip.
we all met at a breakfast spot (the Lumber Inn), which was recommended by scott's cousin, Jason, who met us there with his wife, Meghan. it was nice to see them and to have them chat with the group. they are into outdoor sports as well and they fit in well. we all ate with gusto, being happy that this meal wasn't coming out of a bag of some sort. i got cherry almond french toast, which was amazing. lindsey got a bloody mary that had an entire feast stuck in it. others got mimosas. it was well-deserved after a cold weekend.
ew, sausage. only in Wisconsin.
so, i survived. without too much up-fuckery. the fleece tights incident aside, i did pretty well. could i have done better? of course. i would have brought a warmer sleeping bag and a better-covered tent. but that's probably about it. i brought enough food. i had the right clothes. i packed exactly what i needed and even had room left over. did the fact that i had my car nearby to put crap in? probably. but i didn't even take that into consideration when i packed at home. some people who car camped brought camping chairs and large stoves, but that never even crossed my mind. i was in backpacking mode.
the real questions is will i do it again? probably not. the sheer effort that it takes to get warm and stay warm is just too much. the inconvenience of being out in the cold all day long takes its toll. it's one thing to be setting up or taking down. or actively hiking or skiing or what-have-you. but the worst parts are when you're just sitting. while you're eating, before bed, when you wake up. if you don't have a source for heat, you're going to get cold. bone-seeping cold. and that i just cannot abide.
but who knows? never say never, right?
the group on Saturday morning before getting to the backpack site at Lapham.
Nadia, me, Mark, Doug, Brandon, Irena, Kelly, Marion, Lindsey, Sarah, Rachael, and Curtis.
i belong to a chicago backpackers group through meetup.com. i loved camping as a kid and have done it fairly consistently since i was old enough to schlep my friends to campsites in the area and roast marshmallows and get rained on. but backpacking and camping are really two separate things. i never really thought about backpacking until i met my husband. he is an Eagle Scout and has been all over with a pack on his back. he would tell me stories about him and his dad and brother hiking in to all these strange places, with only the packs on their back to sustain them. food, clothing, shelter. waking up with rattlesnakes in their boots. seemed like fun (well, maybe not the rattlesnakes). i was curious to know if i could get by camping like that.
over the years, we went camping, but "car camping," as scott called it. you throw everything in your car, drive to a campsite, set up, and sit around and drink. you don't have to pack light. you can bring that huge, 4 person tent for two people. bring that cooler, full-size pillow, four pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes. you want a camp chair? hell, yeah, throw that in there, too. my step-mother brings her whole house when she "camps," packing things in those 50-gallon plastic tubs. even i thought that was a bit much. but only the size of your car limited you on how much stuff you could bring. watching my friends car camp made me think about how extravagant it all was. the only "roughing it" part was sleeping on the ground... and then most of us had air mattresses.
then i was introduced to the Chicago Backpacking group. i met a friend who would talk about his adventures of real backpacking. camping, hiking, actually roughing it. so i joined the group. signed up for a bootcamp to see how it would go. rented a pack from REI and found the night before, that it didn't fit around my hips. awesome. 8pm the night before the trip and i didn't have a pack. this wasn't a good sign. went BACK to REI and found a sale pack that was perfect. ok, things were looking up. crammed everything into that pack that i would need and away we went.
aside from the copious amounts of hills, i survived that trip. and fell in love with the concept of packing only what you need to survive. nothing extra. everything you need must fit in that pack. there's not much wiggle room. no tent fans, no huge lanterns, no camp stoves. so really, i fell in love with the gadgets. tiny stoves, wee pillows, lightweight tents, minimalist sleeping bags. the less your pack weighed, the better. i bought real hiking shoes. hiking pants. a 2 lb sleeping bag. a 2 lb tent. a cooking pot that doubles as an insulated cup and storage for your tiny stove and propane canister. the key is versatility.
i signed up for a summer pack and paddle in august. we hike in, sleep over, then the next day, drop our packs off with a guy who gives us kayaks, and we paddle back. it was awesome. we all sit around and talk about gear and being outdoors and what we do and all that rot. most of these people i have never met before. it was on this trip that one of the organizers was talking about winter camping. i said, if you organize a trip, i'll go.
finally, i december, i see a trip pop up for an overnight winter trip that included a candlelight ski event. hell yeah. that looked awesome. so i signed up. the only real thing i would need to get was a better sleeping bag. my 40 degree wasn't going to cut it. after debating whether to buy a better bag or a thermal liner, i just ended up asking a friend to borrow his. that way, if it sucks, then i haven't thrown any money away. his bag is 15 degrees, which i thought would be perfect for this trip. the low both night was supposed to be 25-30 degrees. perfect.
i packed two pairs of long underwear, fleece-lined tights, an extra sleeping pad, windproof pants, real snow boots, wool socks. i had bought snow pants, but thought that it might be too warm for those. so with everything planned out, i packed and headed out.
my stuff. blue stuff sack full of clothes, pink stuff sack full of food, green apple bag, full of loose incidentals.
Day 1
we car camped the first night at Ottawa Lake in Wisconsin. driving into a campsite in January is reminiscent of a horror movie. it's dark and desolate. it seems like there's a hint of humanity in the plowed roads, but there isn't a person in site. finally, i saw one car. i stopped and asked if he was part of the backpacking group. this is where everyone in the audience starts yelling at the screen to turn back. but he applied to the affirmative and i pulled in.
it was cold friday night. probably 25, but the wind was brisk. after stomping down the snow in the area i had claimed, i commenced setting up my tent in the dark. with gloves on. used a mallet to get the tent stakes in because the ground was frozen. got my pack from the car and started throwing stuff in the tent. pad, sleeping bag, clothes. i could barely feel my hands. as i was crawling about in the tent to set up the sleeping bag, with my knees scrunching in the snow beneath the tent floor and my booted feet in the snow outside the tent, i wondered again what the fuck i was thinking when i signed up for this trip.
my tent has paper-thin walls. that's what makes it so lightweight. it also has mesh that goes almost all the way down to the floor. some tents have thicker material that comes up a few inches that would prevent a breeze from blowing in your face while you're laying in your sleeping bag in 19 degree wind chill. mine didn't have that. i could lay in my bag and stare directly out into the wintery landscape. also, my rain fly didn't come all the way down to the ground. so i was getting a little nervous about how warm i would be while sleeping.
people started to show up. Lindsey and Curtis. Rachel and Kelly. Nadia and Sarah. Brandon and Marion. sonja, the main organizer, had to back out because she was sick. tents were set up, beer was brought out, plastic water flasks that held whiskey were passed around. Mark was trying to light this coleman stove from the 1960s that he had found in his storage unit. jet boils were brought out and dinner was consumed. i ate the other half of my subway. a fire was started and i tried to keep my biscuits warm. wood smoke and i don't get along, so i had to strategically position myself to prevent myself from sneezing. my eyes burned and watered, and tears froze on my cheeks. really, what the hell was i thinking.
after a while and a half-ass attempt at making a warming bottle for the sleeping bag, i called it a night. nothing like crawling into an ice cold sleeping bag. the bottle started to leak, so that was out. plus it was already cold by the time i finally got my shit together and got myself in the bag. my toes were frozen. my ass and thighs were frozen. this was going to be fun.
i finally decided to put on the fleece sleep pants i had brought along. have you ever tried to dress yourself while ensconced in a mummy bag? you feel like a fat inch worm having a seizure. i finally got the pants on with much effort, the good side effect being that my feet were no longer cold. my ass, on the other hand, was still numb. i broke out the Tom Skilling snuggy that i grabbed at the last minute (i know, i know, this really wasn't a necessity, but it turned out that it was) and crammed that down in the bag, too. finally, i was starting to warm up. in addition to my hat, two neck warmers, and my two layers on top, nestled about 2 feet into the bag (it's a long bag, my friend is tall) i was finally able to get warm.
now if i could only get comfortable. sigh.
toss. get cold. turn. get cold. wrestle with the liner and the snuggy. get hot. stick your head out of the bag for fresh air. get cold. move. lose warm spot on the sleeping pad. the never-ending struggle. i finally fell asleep. then...
the call of nature.
and not nature #1, either. the jerk.
wriggle out of the bag into the cold. unzip the tent (which, because you put it up in the dark, is set up a little cock-eyed, so the zipper is hard to work because it isn't taught), cram the boots on without getting snow in the tent, unzip the rain fly, stand up without taking the tent with you, zip up the tent, zip up the fly. crunch down the icy road to the pit toilet. feel the cold breeze coming up from the pit toilet. crunch back, do everything in reverse. get back in the bag without shoving liner all the way in the bottom of the bag (fail). try to wrap snuggy around you without pulling arm out of the socket. check the time and wonder how much longer you have to do this until the sun comes up. wish you hadn't been the second one to pull into the camp site because now your car is blocked in and you can't make a run for it. realize it's only 1:30am and you have a good 5 hours to go. sigh and try to fall asleep.
Day 2
i woke up at 7am. people (cough, Doug) were snoring. my face was puffy from the wood smoke and sleeping on the ground. i could see my breath in the tent. yeah, i didn't want to get out. i was finally warm. but i was also hungry. so i got up and did the boot/tent shuffle.
that's snow outside of my tent. mesh all the way down, rainfly not even close to the ground
boots outside. snow. me, not wanting to get up. eyes swollen and red from wood smoke.
the day's activities were going to varied by group. one group was going to pack up their crap and head over to Lapham Peak and backpack overnight there. the other group was going to stay put in Ottawa. Lindsey was supposed to go backpacking, but she said she didn't feel like breaking down her stuff and decided to stay. a few others followed her lead. i could understand that decision. if i hadn't already deflated my sleeping pad and stuffed my sleeping bag, i probably would have stayed put, too. the one thing holding me back: no toilet. but then sarah said that there was a pit toilet at the backpack site in Lapham. fine, i'll go.
this is about the time i realized who Brandon is. Brandon is a guy whom i met five years ago while working at Starbucks in Uptown. he would come in often and sit at the bar next to the espresso machine and chat. we ended up becoming friends. i tried to help him with some design stuff he was working on, but it was beyond my expertise. then he started to ask me out to lunches and dinners and i felt like he wanted it to be a bit more. eventually, i left that starbucks and he slipped from my memory.
he showed up at this trip. how random is that? i didn't even know he was into backpacking. and i guess he's been doing it a while. he knew all about the backpacking site we were going to and details about the park. he didn't end up staying a second night because he had to be back in the city. but what a small world. seriously.
so the people who are leaving pack up. the ones who are staying watch us. eventually, we all trundle over to Lapham Peak to hang out. the whole group hiked into the backpacking site, which was about two miles from where we parked. we kept going and going and going. i was in the front, which was a bad idea, because i had no idea where the turn off was for the campsite. i thought there would be a sign or something. nope. walked right past it. after about another 15-20 minutes, someone was like, "hey, did we pass it?" so we all turned around and went back. and there was the sign. thanks, Lapham. we trudged into camp and surveyed the land. picnic table, privy, fire pit. works for me. i picked a place under a few pine trees and commenced the stomping of the snow. setting up the tent during the day would be better. i could make the rainfly tight so i didn't have to yell at it every time i needed to get out.
tent set up at Lapham Peak. I look so smug.
once the tents were set up, we went back down to where we parked the cars and decided what to do. sarah and i were going to cross country ski, the rest of the group would hike and cause general shenanigans. we split and agreed to meet back at the warming house at designated times. i went to rent my skis. the ski hut was run by two 17-year-old boys. for $25, they hooked me up with skis, boots, and poles. i dragged them out to the trail and met up with sarah, who had her own skis. i proceeded to click the toe of my boots into the skis.... and nothing. tried again. nope. again and again and again. nope, nope, nope. sarah tried. nope. i could not get my goddamn boot into these skis. i'm no dummy, but i know how skis work. we finally decided that there was something we were missing about these binding, so i grabbed my gear and marched back to the ski hut. i walked in, walked up to the blond kid and said, "how do you put these on?"
he chuckled. "i guess i should have shown you how to do that, huh?"
hahah. yeah, maybe.
you lift up the tip of the binding. that opens up the slot to put your shoe in. sigh. people are dying of cancer and this is what research we're doing: fucking with the years-old tradition of ski bindings.
so, that problem being solved, i couldn't wait to get out and get my ski on. so i got my skis on. and holy shit, were they slick. as in slippery. as in, i looked like a toddler trying to skate for the first time. i'd glide forward, and the ski would slip back. or they would slide sideways. this isn't my first skiing rodeo... i've enjoyed this sport before. i'm also a fine roller blader. but damn, this was turning out to be tricky. sarah was on her way, gliding along. i was jerking along behind her, like a spastic clown. it didn't help that the tracks were ice. i tried to ski out of the tracks. i tried to ski in the tracks. the tracks were better. they prevented me from sliding sideways more. the trick, i would find out later, would be going up hill. i couldn't. i couldn't get enough momentum to go up. so i turned my skis out and tromped up that way. but on one hill, that didn't work either. here's how it played out: slide backwards. fall. slide some more on butt. hoist myself up with poles and brute upper arm strength (insert laughter here). repeat. finally i got the big idea to take the damn skis off and walk up the hill and then put the skis back on. christ.
and on it went. poor sarah. she was so patient. she works with pre-school kids, so she's probably used to dealing with this kind of stuff. at one point, she wanted to go up and around part of another trail, but i had no desire to drag this out any longer than necessary, so she went off my herself. i took the short cut, managed not to fall, and met up with her at the pass. there were some down hills that were impressive that i managed not to fall on. the speed was fun. and i think by sheer will (and hip strength) i managed not to eat ice on those hills.
this is my "this sucks but i'm making the most of it" smile while skiing.
and then we were done with skiing, and not a moment too soon. we all met at the warming hut and drove to a closer parking lot to the campsite. it was supposed to rain on Sunday and we didn't want to hike any farther than necessary on the way out. we grabbed some firewood that was behind the pit toilet and headed down the trail. there were five of us staying over at Lapham, me. sarah, nadia, kelly, and our sole male, curtis. curtis had all the good gadgets. he had a ratchet strap that he wrapped around some logs and dragged them along the trail. he also had a cool glow stick flashlight and a french press for his JetBoil. now that's a serious backpacker.
so we got back to the site. we sat and ate a bit. and i started to get cold. i was wearing fleece-lined tights under waterproof, windproof pants. and i got pretty sweaty while skiing. so my tights are soaked. but i don't notice. i just knew that i was getting cold and i that kept thinking if we got a move on towards the candlelight ski event, that i would warm up.
nope. we walked and my ass and thighs got colder. we climbed the tower and noticed all of the traffic for the event. and my lower region got colder. we walked to the building that was hosting the event and i was freezing. we went inside and i thought, "finally, i can warm up." we got a table and sat down and enjoyed watching the hundreds of people come and go. but my legs are frozen. nadia offered me her fleece pants. i accepted. i took off my waterproof pants. and that's when i found out that the pants were all wet on the inside, as were my fleece leggings. shit. until i get dry, there was no way i was going to warm up.
inside the warming house during the candlelight ski event.
i wiped down the inside of the pants. i stood outside by the bonfire, and that helped. but every time i stepped away, the cold would just seep back in. the group wanted to walk the candle-lit trails and i felt warm enough, so we set off. and within a few minutes, my legs were just as cold as before. it was really irritating. if i just would have changed after skiing, i'd be fine. but nope.
i ended up cutting the trail walk short so i could go back to the warming house. the rest (except nadia, who kept me company. what a trooper) went on to do the full mile loop. i stood by the fire again and attempted to warm my biscuits. finally, the rest of the group came back and we headed back to the campsite.
there is something to be said about being the only people staying on-site at Lapham. the event was packed, 2,500 people in the park were enjoying the candlelight ski and hike. after it was done, everyone else left in their cars, but we were staying. it was a cool feeling. hiking back down the trail in the dark, in the snow, knowing that you're going to stay out in a tent on a night that some people wouldn't even go outside. granted, it was 37 degrees, which was much warmer than the previous night, but still. when we told people that we were camping, people were impressed. and i guess i was impressed with myself for not having backed out. i had several opportunities, but i really wanted to know what it was like. this same trip last year was only a one night car camping trip. maybe i shouldn't have jumped in with a two night trip and backpacking. but i felt that i had done something substantial. something that, had it been on my bucket list, i would have been able to cross off.
of course, after all that, i was honestly just happy that it was my last night in the cold.
we got back to the site and i peeled off my outer pants and my fleece-lined tights. my skin was really cold and clammy. yargh. even in the open air, my skin felt warmer than in those wet tights. live and learn, i guess. i put some dry tights on, put on my Homer Simpson tangled in Christmas lights fleece sleep pants on and felt 100% better. ahhhhhh. we attempted to make a fire. i heated up water for my hot water sleeping bottle and tried not to fall asleep. once my water was hot, i headed off to bed.
bed. snort. i mean a cold feather-filled lump of fluff on my sleeping pads, on my tent floor, that's mere centimeters from hard-packed snow. let the fun begin.
the water bottle helped, but with a cold butt and thighs, there is just too much real estate to cover with a tiny 24 ounce bottle. i needed something larger, a human. a space heater. an electric blanket. but eventually, i warmed up. and tucked way down where the cold couldn't find me, i finally fell asleep.
i woke up to rain later that night and remembered that sarah was sleeping out in her bivvy sack with her tarp under her, rather than over her. she said the next day that right after she got done moving the tarp and tying it down, it stopped raining. ha. of course. i woke up again due to nature's call, but i told it to call back later. and i woke up again at 7:30, feeling like a warm, toasty cinnamon bun, not wanting to get out. but alas, it had to be done. so we packed up our stuff, ate breakfast, and headed out.
due to the rain, the trek out was much slipperier than the previous night. i had bought new trekking poles and lent one to Kelly for the trip up and out. Curtis had lost one of his yak trax the night before but had woke up early enough to go back out to relocate it. i had put on three layers of clothes and was finally warm, but by the time we got to the cars, i thought i was going to die of heat exhaustion. some day i'll find that balance between slab of meat and boiled water. i put my pack in my car and, in doing so, tweaked a muscle in my back. and it started to rain. ah, the final forks in a well-done trip.
we all met at a breakfast spot (the Lumber Inn), which was recommended by scott's cousin, Jason, who met us there with his wife, Meghan. it was nice to see them and to have them chat with the group. they are into outdoor sports as well and they fit in well. we all ate with gusto, being happy that this meal wasn't coming out of a bag of some sort. i got cherry almond french toast, which was amazing. lindsey got a bloody mary that had an entire feast stuck in it. others got mimosas. it was well-deserved after a cold weekend.
ew, sausage. only in Wisconsin.
so, i survived. without too much up-fuckery. the fleece tights incident aside, i did pretty well. could i have done better? of course. i would have brought a warmer sleeping bag and a better-covered tent. but that's probably about it. i brought enough food. i had the right clothes. i packed exactly what i needed and even had room left over. did the fact that i had my car nearby to put crap in? probably. but i didn't even take that into consideration when i packed at home. some people who car camped brought camping chairs and large stoves, but that never even crossed my mind. i was in backpacking mode.
the real questions is will i do it again? probably not. the sheer effort that it takes to get warm and stay warm is just too much. the inconvenience of being out in the cold all day long takes its toll. it's one thing to be setting up or taking down. or actively hiking or skiing or what-have-you. but the worst parts are when you're just sitting. while you're eating, before bed, when you wake up. if you don't have a source for heat, you're going to get cold. bone-seeping cold. and that i just cannot abide.
but who knows? never say never, right?
the group on Saturday morning before getting to the backpack site at Lapham.
Nadia, me, Mark, Doug, Brandon, Irena, Kelly, Marion, Lindsey, Sarah, Rachael, and Curtis.
posted by mikraas at 6:26 PM
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