Thoughts About Death at 11,000 Feet

"Will I die?"
"Will the trail out of this wilderness be too covered in snow to find?"
"Will I freeze?"
"Will we be on the news?"
"Will I make my flight out of here?"
"What will I do if I have to pee during the night?"

These were some of the thoughts that had gone through my head during the night. It was 3:45 am - I was still awake in our tent as the wind whipped over the top of the mountain and sounded like a freight train coming down into the valley. How did I get myself in this situation?

Less than 24 hours earlier I was in Phoenix in the comfort of 80 degree sunshine and my rental car - in less than 24 hours (if I didn't die), I'd be on my way to the wasteland of a swamp turned one of the top destinations in the country berthed by a man with a penchant for making giant happy mice and cheap imitations of places in the world that really are worthy of travel (Orlando).

I had flown into Denver late Friday night. Annie picked me up at the airport...we crashed for about 6 hours in preparation for our Saturday of outdoor hedonism. In true hedonistic fashion, we made giant pancakes, gorged ourselves on orange juice and set out to conquer some boulders. After a morning of bouldering, we stopped by the Boulder Running Company for some employee discount shopping...then headed up the hill for our trail run through the forest.

After traversing aspens, bombing down singletrack, and waddling on some fire roads, we made it back to the camp, met up with Pete, and began packing for our camping trip. On the way up, Pete divulged that the forecast was for 5-8 inches of snow and driving winds.

"Have you ever camped in anything like that?" I inquired, assuming a simple "Yeah, no problem".
"Uh, nothing quite like that."
Hmmm..."reassuring", I thought.

We drove about 45 minutes from Camp Ad-Ra-Ha-Je which is in Bailey, Colorado up to the trailhead at about 10,000 feet. We parked the truck and unloaded our packs for the 2 mile trek into the wilderness. Pete has a way of underestimating danger...call it confidence, call it leadership, call it whatever - but know that when Pete expresses concern - you should be concerned.

"I hope the bog isn't too bad" Pete said on the drive up. Translated, "Joe will be taking his non gor-tex trail running shoes off and running through the near freezing water in the bog in his bare feet".

After about an hour of trekking, we reached the valley. We had hiked through the bog, over a creek and around a mountain into the valley, which was shaped like half of a big saucer. Breaking through the trees, we had amazing views of the night sky, and the guidance of a full moon.

The next three hours consisted of finding a place to pitch our tent, cooking dinner - chicken burritos, starting a campfire, smoking cigars, drinking wine, and discussing things pertaining to life and Godliness. About mid-way though our cigars, the wind starting picking up, and the snow started flying. We put out our fire and retreated to our tent.

The temperature had dropped to about 10 degrees and the wind was howling in excess of 30 miles per hour. Wind chill? You do the math. We got into our polar pods and attempted to go to sleep...

"Will I die?" I kept thinking to myself.
"What if the wind blows the cover off of the tent?" "What if I have to pee?" It was so bloody cold outside, I think I would have rather pissed in my pants. With 5-8 inche

s of snow forecasted, I was sure we'd end up lost in the morning blizzard, looking for the trail...in a white wilderness - that is if could even shovel ourselves out of the tent in the morning.

At 3:45, I finally drifted into the lala land. Pete's alarm went off at 7. No one wanted to look how much snow was actually outside - the howling wind had pelted our tent all night long with driving snow - I was sure that the snow would be up to the top of our tent.

Pete opened the tent and let the chilling morning wind inside - and to our surprise, only about 3 inches of snow. We were greeted with complete morning stillness and a fresh blanked of snow, which allowed for a glorious hike out and back down the mountain to top it off with round two of the world's biggest pancakes.