"THE ROOKIE"
Snow Camping February 2004
The seed was planted in my brain the day I read the
newspaper article “Snowshoeing in the Park” by Associated Press reporter, Brian
Skoloff, dated January 24, 2004. I read it as an invitation…a calling…a
challenge. If Brian and his friends could do it, then I could do it. I wished
that I had done it. I wished that I
was there with Brian and his companions. They had accomplished their goal. They
celebrated and documented their memories, they had succeeded. Collectively,
they had the experience that I wanted.
I had just turned 35 and I craved freedom and adventure. However,
this trip was more than just that. It was my inaugural, mom scoring a ”hall
pass” trip. My son Landon was two years
old and as much as I needed a weekend away, my husband Clinton and Landon
needed a weekend of bonding together.
Accompanying me on the trip was my exercise buddy and dear
friend Moddie Stone and her sister Andya. We knew that in order to prepare for
the trip we should be physically fit and be equipped with a warm sleeping bag.
I made my first outdoor gear purchase online, a cozy over-weight, bargain
priced sleeping bag. The rest of our gear we borrowed or rented; self-inflating
pads, a tent and backpacks.
We stayed with my sister Friday night in Moccasin, a small
town nestled below the vast Yosemite wonderland. My Dad, who lives close by
made a visit to do a pack check. He looked at our loads and shook his head in
silence. I knew he was thinking we were inexperienced and underprepared. I knew he was right but I felt we were
prepared enough.
We headed for Yosemite National Park Saturday a.m.,
destination – Crane Flat trail head. It was a crisp sunny day. We fastened on our
snowshoes, loaded our packs and headed up the road. The snow was deep so to
expend less energy we trekked through the already made cross-country tracks,
which we later learned was improper trail etiquette (lesson one). Eventually we
lost the ski tracks and would then trade off with the strenuous task of
“breaking trail”.
Onward and upward we trekked. Hours went by and the big
questioned entered our minds and muscles, when will we reach our destination?!?
I begin to silently scope out an alternative camp. We were fenced in by forest
on both sides and my rookie instincts told me to not set up camp in the trees.
Not to mention I was completely obsessed with reaching our destination.
Daylight was dwindling and a decision needed to be made,
leadership was necessary at this critical moment. “Just to the top of that
crest” I proclaimed. “If it’s not there then we’ll set up camp amongst the
trees.” Just as I made my statement with dire disappointment, some skiers descended
from the crest above us. Our trail angels made their appearance, and just in
the nick of time. They brought great news that our meadow was just over the
crest, waiting for our arrival. WE MADE IT! The meadow was ours; we had it all
to ourselves. I suddenly felt exposed.
We set up our tent, relieved to get inside after post holing
into the snow. We snuggled into our sleeping bags and nestled on our flat “self-inflating”
pads. Minimal backpacking at its finest, no stove, no cooking. We feasted on
cold pizza, a culinary delicacy when you are out in the wilderness.
The ground was painfully hard and our summer tent could
hardly deflect the harsh freezing environment living outside (and inside) our
tent. After a few sips of bourbon mixed with laughter, we tossed and turned in
unison until glimpses of sun shined through our snowy crystalized tent. We had
survived the night! In silence we backed up and headed down the trail as
quickly as our snowshoes would take us. We stopped for a breakfast break only
to find that our drinking water froze, our cliff bars were rock hard, and our
bananas had turned black. How we craved a hot beverage and an edible meal. Within
two hours we were headed back to civilization.
Even with all the mistakes we made, our trip was still a
success and it was definitely a learning experience. We knew how to better
prepare for the next trip. Speaking of
next trip…”where to next ladies?”
And so the seed had flourished, into a deep passion for
adventure.
Listen to the
footsteps on the damp forest floor, a deep inhalation of new breath, a groan of
inner strength to clear a wide step.