I have always been intrigued by four-season camping, more specifically WINTER camping. The trip slated was actually a backpacking trip on snowshoes to a deserted lodge. It would still be winter camping, though a little more protection from the elements at night than a tent. Mary, Erik, and I borrowed gear, stuffed our packs, and layered up. We headed out Hwy 285 into the snow. We dined in Erik's truck on some delicious homemade potato rosemary bread, laced the chains around the tires, and planned to head a little farther down the closed road. We talked to some other snowshoers retreating from a night in a snowcave and set ourselves on course. The truck did not follow course. In less than five minutes of driving into the thicker, deeper snow, we were stuck. Technically we were high centered, and the back right wheel had dropped into quicksand. We dug and dug - with snowshoes and poles. The snowcaving Girl Scouts showed up with shovels and their dad. They worked on the back wheel, as I swept my ski pole back and forth under the engine, determined to un-high center the truck. After many attempts, shoving from the front, and standing on the tailgate, Blue dislodged from the snow and returned to the spot it previously occupied. Bummer!
We ambitiously strapped on our shoes and packs after a minor setback. The additional distance to cover wouldn't take long, though it was amusing how thin and packed the snow was for at least forty mintues - an easy road to drive. We checked out the snowcave on our way into the woods. The directions we had been given said to just keep walking along the road. We determined previously that 3:00 pm would be our turn around time. After a bit of confusion as to the time, we determined the truck clock was an hour fast, Mary's alarm clock was fifty minutes fast, and we ate lunch before 10 am...plenty of time.
The snow was beautiful. The mountains were amazing. The sun felt great. Three o'clock came more quickly than we anticipated. We stopped for more bread and snacks on a sunny dry patch and acknowledged that we would have to turn back. The snowcave was still an option. It seemed a quick return, but the light would be gone quickly. We gathered firewood and started preparing dinner. While gathering firewood, I managed to step through the snow, through a layer of ice, and into a creek. The sound of running water got me moving quickly. Relieved to see my boots weren't wet, I managed to get an armful of branches and twigs for the fire. Looping back around with my arms full, I stepped through a different spot, much deeper. Up to my hips in snow, I could feel the water rushing into my boots. I COULD FEEL WATER RUSHING INTO MY BOOTS!! Unprepared for this scenario, I did what I thought best - changed into dry socks and tried to dry my boots by the fire.
We enjoyed a delicious dinner of tortillas and beans and cheese and salsa. It was delicious!! Hot cocoa made a great dessert, but the temperature was dropping, and the fire was waning. We made our way into the snow cave. It was plenty big enough for us, though short-ceilinged for maneuvering much. Those with claustrophobia should be warned that this is not a good option for winter camping. Obstructed from the doorway, my body hunkered down for a cold night. Sleepless, the night passed slowly. My bag is good for cold weather, but the highs were forecasted in the teens. The long and the short of it (yes, I know this hasn't been a short story) is that upon putting my frozen boots on in the morning, I subjected myself to forstbite. We couldn't get a fire going in the morning, so packed up in a hurry and sprinted for the truck. I was a bit distressed over the state of my feet, but reaching the spot on the road where the sun finally reached me warmed my spirits and my face. I could barely see out of my fogging glasses, but push on we did. Mary had a late start as the last one out of her bag. With the sun buoying my spirits, I turned back about ten minutes from the car. I didn't want to leave her, but I knew that I needed to start moving. I was glad to go back for her, feeling like there was not much worse my feet could get.
Once at the truck, I abandoned my gear and went for the back seat with the blanket. I gently removed my boots to some cold toes...frozen toes. They weren't pretty, sort of like frozen chicken fat. My big toe was the worst. I couldn't stop the wail inside me that wanted out. Mary and Erik insisted that I come stick my feet under the heater. Sadly I have have had frostbite before, so I know that you warm gently and slowly to eliminate risk of refreezing. I was relieved that Mary and Erik got out to remove the chains off the back wheel, so I could let out a few shrieks of anguish as the feeling started to come back. The back seat was fine, especially since my boots got a front seat for the heater, but I wasn't prepared to slip my feet back into them to get breakfast. We stopped in Bailey for the most reasonable priced eggs and potatoes on the market. Even better was my seat next to the heater. I dozed in and out on the drive back.
When we got home, unloaded and hung our gear up to dry, I looked up information about frostbite. There were a number of recommendations to seek medical treatment, though when I called my sister, Dr. Miki, she couldn't tell me anything except that she was tired. I left a message for an advice nurse who called back for a message for my doctor. She confirmed there was nothing more to do but keep it warm. The tenderness is bothersome, and there may be a couple spots with no feeling. Hopefully it progressively gets better and not worse. All in all it was a great trip. We all learned a few pointers for next time; God forbid there is a next time of wet boots and temperatures not even in the teens. Looks like I may be buying toe warmers for my boots this year!
