Cold as hell

Flashback to 1997. My father, little brother (age 5), and I are walking along the blustery South Jetty beach in northern Oregon. My brother has a sudden epiphany filled with truth and wisdom, "Dad, if your hands get cold, just grab your peeps."

Many years later, and these words have continued to save my fingers from certain frostbite. Yeah... it's been super cold lately. The kind of cold where I seem to move in slow-motion, where my speech begins to slur, and where it's simply too cold to drop a number two. 

I've been hiking off and on with a fellow named Zhivago (which, by the way, awesome trail name). Zhivago always has his thermometer handy, and the past three nights he's said it's been 4°, 10°, and -1°.

Say whaaaaa?!

I knew I was signing up for cold weather... but DANG. Plus, it's been really windy lately which multiplies the frigidness greatly. Needless to say, I'm in town today thawing out a bit. I don't think there is a better feeling than stepping into a hot shower after days in the freezing woods. 

However, I'm staying in town too much. At this rate, I won't be able to afford it, neither with time nor money. So, I'll need to keep moving. And I mean this in the general sense, as well as the most literal sense. Besides crawling into my warm sleeping bag at the end of the day, the only way I've been able to stay somewhat warm is to keep moving. Keep hiking. Keep doing jumping jacks.

Honestly, my hands have been my greatest difficulty. It seems that no matter what I do, they remain numb and cold. That's why I have no problem taking a trip into town. If not for a motel room, at least for a hot cup of coffee before continuing the trek into the bitter cold. 

Lost Spectacles

Last week, my brother and I went for a little hike up to Chasm Lake in the Park.  Good hike.  Not so good weather.  But it was good enough to take a quick dip in the pristine alpine lake (at least for myself... my brother was not convinced).  Well, on my second dip (for the first dip was simply not enough) my glasses came off my face.  I immediately tried to grasp them, but they slipped through my fingers and settled on the rocky lake bottom.  I was only about ten feet from shore and in water five feet deep, but the water was frigid.  After several attempts to retrieve them, I had to abandon hope.  Thunderstorms were approaching, and the lake water was simply too cold to keep looking.

The spectacles were lost.

But I had a plan to revisit the Lake.  One week later, I stuffed a pair of borrowed scuba goggles into my pack (with plenty of warm clothes) and headed back into the alpine tundra.

Operation LOST SPECTACLES had commenced.

Week 1


Week 2

Day 150

07/28/12 - Zealand Falls Hut - 1,831.1 miles

Doing/did our first (and probably only) work for stay tonight.  Not quite what we were expecting.  A little disappointing.  And definitely felt like second class citizens.  As Dos put it, "Back of the bus, thru-hikers."  Skunkape and Magpie also stayed with us.  An interesting experience.  Rained on us the last 5 or so miles leading up to the hut.  Slow going.  Cold.  And very wet.  Took my worst fall today just before reaching the shelter.  Slipped into the rocky creek and landed on my elbow.  Took me a second to manage and get up while my feet were completely underwater.  What a day.

***

Day 70

05/09/12 - Piney River (ish) - ≈813 miles

Who would have thought we'd be shivering on a mountain ridge with all our warm clothing on barely able to move?  The combination of water and wind is a deadly thing.  I don't know if I'll ever send back any of my warm clothes... I keep needing them!  Starting to warm up in my tent now.  A really beautiful bird song is heard around us.  We are camped next to a large rock with an epic tree growing out of it.  Amarillo boy!

***

Epic tree with KitFox

Day 12

03/12/12 - Past Wayah Bald - ≈120 miles


So cold.  So wet.  My fingers are just barely able to write anything.  About 30 minutes ago I was in convulsions and could not strike a match.  Fingers just weren't moving.  Now I'm in dry clothes (ish) and my sleeping bag.  Definitely a whole 'nother level of difficulty here on the AT.  Our first full day of rain.

***

I walked to the mailbox today and was so excited to see the March/April '13 issue of AT Journeys waiting for me!  Then I looked inside...

First Snow

I woke up this morning to snow on the ground.
Most of it melted away shortly after some direct sunlight, but a lot of it remains in the shade of the cliffs.

When I first arrived to Arches in 100° weather, I definitely did not expect to see snow during my time here.
It's been interesting to experience the seasonal change in this region.

Beautiful all around.

Not Lonely, but Alone

Ventured down to the Needles section of Canyonlands National Park.
It's a beautiful place.
More remote and less people than its neighbors (Arches and Island in the Sky).
I was there for the day and wanted a decent hike.

I set out for the Chestler Park / Joint Loop trail - 11 miles.

I started off in the rain.
Cold rain.
Both of which are rare for the desert, but I was looking forward to being in the elements a bit.

I feel something different when hiking in the rain.
The word effective comes to mind... like I'm really getting to my destination.
Working for it.
Honestly, I think I just like the sound of mud squishing beneath my feet.

A few miles in I saw a sign for Druid Arch.
Not part of my original plan, but I decided to go for it.
The trail meanders through Elephant Canyon, and being that it was constantly raining, I was basically walking up a stream.
The trail would often lead right into a pool of collected water or up a waterfall.
This was true practice for the AT and a test for whether or not my gear could withstand some serious wetness.

It was a wonderful hike.
Cold.
Wet.
But wonderful.

I finally made it through the canyon and began ascending to Druid Arch.
I was out of breath by the time I had finished scrambling up, but wow!
What a view.

Druid Arch is one of those arches that you don't actually see until it's right in front of you.
The arch itself is tall, but it also stands about 300 feet off the ground.
I found myself looking up at a magnificent arch, an easy rival for any other arch I've seen.

There was still a light drizzle (it never really stopped raining on me the entire day, other than for about 15 minutes at one point), and I could distinctly hear the sound of each raindrop colliding with the rock.

It was so quiet.

Not another sound could be heard.
I had to hold my breath just to hear the wind blowing.

I felt truly alone in this place.
Not lonely, but alone.

I had passed only one other hiker in a six mile stretch, and now, standing before this massive arch, it seemed like I was the only living soul in the wilderness.

I bit into my apple and nearly startled myself with the loudness of the juicy crunch.

It was a beautiful peacefulness, and eventually the light pit-pat of the scattered raindrops began to intensify.

It was time to head back before any serious flash floods started to form.

Total hiking distance ended up being about 13 miles.