Camping in January

When I was a senior in high school, I took a weekend college class run by the local college on winter wilderness survival. It was held at a camp located in the Southern Colorado Rocky Mountains at an elevation of about 9000 feet above sea level. It was a cold, snowy three days in January. January, my friends, we were camping in January!

Our first night I was in a tent with two other women. A tent mind you, a tent with canvass walls, no heat source and it was snowing and it was in January. We were camping in a snowstorm in the Rocky Mountains in January. It is amazing what some people will do for a couple college credits.

A very large woman got to sleep in the middle. I think she got the coveted spot because she was so large, and bossy and the other woman and I really didn’t know how important sleeping in the middle would be. Remember, we were in the Rocky Mountains, in a tent, in the snow. It was January and the largest woman with the most natural insulation is in the middle…..and I got the outside edge. All skinny 92 pounds of me got the outside edge of the tent where it is cold, very cold.

I wore every stitch of clothing I brought: long underwear, two pairs of pants, so many shirts I couldn’t bend my arms without cutting off the circulation, two pairs of wool socks, my coat, gloves, and a hat. I rolled up in my blanket, stuffed myself in my sleeping bag, curled up in a tight little ball of shivering humanity with only my nose sticking out between the sleeping bag and the pillow. I tried to go to sleep. I tried, but it was cold, very cold.

My nose got cold so I tucked it into my sleeping bag. Then I began to suffocate.

Nose out….TOO BLOODY COLD!

Nose in…..CAN”T BLOODY BREATHE!

All night long. I was so cold I thought I was going to turn into a human Popsicle and die.

The woman with the lovely natural insulation in the middle of the tent was snoring. She pulled her hat off. She rolled over and shoved me half out of the tent. She wouldn’t wake up. I could not move my arms. I could not breathe. I was so cold I thought I would die.

Morning finally came.

We gathered in a cabin, with a fireplace. There was hot coffee and donuts. I couldn’t feel my nose. My toes were permanently blue. I drank hot coffee like I was a drowning victim gulping air. We listened to a lecture on hypothermia and frostbite.

What the H*$%#! I really could have died! I needed this information at midnight last night!

Our professor was a jolly man. He had lovely natural insulation. He had even more than my tent mate. I was wondering how many donuts I would have to eat before dark to add enough insulation that I would not freeze during the coming night.

Our professor decided that since there was four feet of snow on the ground and it was snowing so hard that we couldn’t see three feet in front of us, it was a good time to build a snow cave. OK, the tent was one step above the Antarctic, and he wants me to build a snow cave and sleep in it. He is either sadistic or insane or are sadistic people insane?

And it was January, we were above 9000 feet in the Rocky Mountains. It was snowing, I couldn’t feel my toes. He expected me to sleep in a snow cave. And he expected me to go out in a blizzard and build one.

He drew diagrams and explained the insulation factors of snow. We all trooped outside and began to dig.

Several hours later my tent mates and I had dug into the bank of a small hill and packed the snow into the shape of a cave. We called it our igloo and moved our sleeping gear into it for the night.

I put on all the clothes I had brought with me. I wrapped myself up in my blanket, crawled into my sleeping bag and curled up into a small ball of shivering humanity. I didn’t know what to do about my nose. In the sleeping bag and suffocate or out to freeze?

But I got warm. I really did, the professor was not insane after all. It was so much warmer that the tent, it was amazing and I slept. I was able to stick my nose out and I could breathe. My nose did not freeze off. I could breathe and I was warm. I could not move my arms, but I was warm.

My tent mate snored. She rolled over, but she couldn’t push me out of the snow cave, the thick snow walls kept me in place. I listened to her snore and then I slept some more.

Morning came. My tent mate insisted she was too hot and sweaty and couldn’t wait to get up. I did not want to move. I did not want to go outside into the cold. Even though the snow above our heads had started to melt from our warm bodies and was dripping, I was still warm. Finally hunger and an irrational desire to move my arms drove me from the sleeping bag and out into the morning.

It had stopped snowing and the sun was brilliant on the deep, powdery snow. The blue sky against the pine trees was glorious.

We gathered again in the cabin with a fireplace, hot coffee and donuts. I was not frozen. My toes looked normal and I could feel my nose.

We had a lecture on surviving an avalanche.

We learned basic first aid.

We ate sandwiches and talked about survival.

We all trooped outside into the blinding sunshine and learned to cross country ski and practiced walking with snowshoes.

I fell down a lot. Snow shoes are tricky. This was in the old days before the sleek new models were invented. These were ungainly loops of wood crisscrossed with sinew and strapped to your boots with leather belts.

To walk you had to swing your leg out to the side and try not to step on the other snowshoe. If the snow shoes got crossed or you stepped one on top of the other, you fell down. I took one step, fell down. Took two steps, fell down. Took one step, went backwards two steps, fell down. Snowshoes are not my friends.

Cross country skis were a different story. They were fun. Gliding along on skis had a rhythm and a grace that I did not find with snowshoes. Again, these were not the new slick models that are available today. These were old fashioned wooden skis that had to be polished and waxed before being put on. They were longer than I was tall and I found going up hill pretty exhausting, but sliding downhill was fun.

We had more lectures and endured another night in a snow cave before finally packing up and heading for the lower elevations of town. I ate a lot of donuts, but it wasn’t enough to add lovely natural insulation. The third night was cold, but the snow really does have amazing insulating capabilities and I did not freeze to death.

I was left with an admiration for people with natural insulation. A profound respect for the indigenous Inuit that lived in igloos in the Arctic. A grudging fear of frostbite and the knowledge that if I ever had to, I could probably survive a few nights in the mountains in January.

Many years have gone by since that cold January. I can no longer cross-country ski or dig snow caves.

I live in a warm cabin in the Southern Colorado Mountains where there is always a blazing fire in the fireplace and hot tea to keep me warm. I have lots of lovely natural insulation now, whether I want it or not. I like to watch the snow come down through the window.

I avoid venturing outdoors between October and May.

My memories of that cold snowy January are distant, but unforgettable.

We were camping, my friends, camping in January! And it was cold, very cold.