It was winter in Das Book

We went up into the mountains for an overnighter. Alex and I. Cody and Alyssa. They are not dating. They are from my cohort. I like being in the wilderness with them. Alyssa is always down to get out there and kick some ass. She reminds me a little of myself at 22. And Cody is knowledgable in the backcountry. He’s really into climbing. He gets excited about granite, schist, gneiss. Much more excited than I do.

We left here at 5 PM Friday night, drove up to Nederland and stopped so Alex could buy roadside barbecue. The trees are changing here but it’s a bit late for the aspens. There are patches of aspen-y gold but they are dwindling. But a lot of the low bushes are brilliant red, the cottonwoods are shining golden, the underbrush is topaz, copper, blonde, brunette.

When we got to the trailhead it was foggy and already approaching dusk. We saw some hikers on their way down, they seemed surprised to see the backpacks on our backs and told us we’d have the night to ourselves. We climbed, chatting, one-by-one dropping into silence. Squirrels chittered, jays squawked, twilight dropped down. The mist became tiny rain drops which became huge snowflakes landing softly on our jackets, packs. We stopped to turn our faces up and feel the snow on our cheeks. And then climbed on.

As we reached the dwarfed pines just below tree line, I saw stars. We’d hiked out of the clouds, the sky was clear above us and we were in a basin ringed by rocky peaks. Alex complained that we never stop for breaks. He refused to ask for a break, though. He didn’t want Cody and Alyssa to know that his breath was short. This was the highest in the world he’d ever been. We never took out our lights, never had to. The moon rose behind us and illuminated the snowy couloirs that sliced through the peaks. Then we were hiking across a hillside, up, up. We finally got to the Continental Divide and looked down on Caribou Lake. The wind barreled through and I started feeling cold. Alex whined and continued refusing any efforts to aid him. We started climbing to our destination, Dorothy Lake, and Alex and I dropped behind Alyssa and Cody. We were moving off trail now, kicking steps into crusty snow, ascending a rocky hillside. The trail was filled in with tons of snow. I tried to rock-hop but I kept falling. Once I fell into the snow to my hip. I cried for Alex to help me get out. He came. I told him I needed him, too. We finally got to camp, a snowfield on a lakeshore strewn with boulders underneath a craggy peak. Cody and I set up tents. Alex and Alyssa visited the lake. My hands were freezing. I kept taking breaks to warm them in my armpits. I felt a fleeting panic that they would never be warm again. That I would freeze them to death and I’d return to Boulder with nubbins for fingers. I thought about how difficult it would be to finish grad school with finger nubbins. I finally got the tent up.

They wanted to go straight to bed. I knew Alex was suffering from the altitude and that we were all cold so I insisted on hot cocoa first. They changed into dry layers as I heated water and brought them hot beverages, one by one. Alex cheered up. Alyssa got into her sleeping bag. Cody’s cocoa was weak and mine was too strong so we mixed them into the perfect chocolatey equilibrium.

Alex, Cody and I smoked a bowl in our tent, carrying on a conversation with Alyssa in the other tent. She didn’t want to risk getting a contact high. When we emerged we were astounded. Cody and I went to touch the water. It was black, still, fogged in. We couldn’t find the line where water ended and fog began. It was so clear we could see rocks under the water, thirty feet in front of us. The fog passed, the moon lit the world, we started planning the next day’s adventures as rises appeared and disappeared under the cover of speedy cloud banks.

We went to bed. I was cold. I didn’t sleep well.

We woke up. It was foggy, windy. It had snowed a tiny skiff of powder overnight. The sun was anemic behind the thick clouds. We gathered around, lighting stoves and throwing together breakfast. We ate the different dishes as they arrived in the world, knowing they’d only be hot for a minute or two at best. We had polenta, vegetable soup. A salmon fillet seared in the tiny saucepan. Soba noodles with caramelized onions. Coffee, more cocoa.

See the little orange tent? We were so insignificant.

And the sun would come out, ten seconds at a time, and we’d rejoice and turn our faces toward it and then it would go again. I kept going on rock-hops around camp to try and bring feeling back to my toes. I taught Cody and Alyssa the warm-up-your-feet-dance. Alyssa was cold and cranky and retreated to her sleeping bag in the tent. She was apologetic. I gently urged her to take care of herself however she needed, and that movement would warm her most efficiently. We decided to traipse around.

We went to the Divide again. We could see all the way to the plains on both sides in the moments when the clouds were absent. There was Caribou Lake, so tiny below us, etched into a bowl below the Indian Peaks. We could see the trail switchbacking down to it. Had no interest in taking it. Took pictures of the epic-ness. Set our sights on a rise and started climbing. Alyssa kicked steps in her boots. I followed in my crocs. Sometimes my heels were cold but for the most part I was impressed with how well they insulated my feet. We reached the top and peered over the edge and the wind kicked up and we promptly sat down so we wouldn’t blow off to craggy earth below. We sat, feet hanging over the cusp of the cliff. Alex and Cody joined us. We hiked along the ridge to another outcrop. To another. Cody was a mountain goat. I liked the paths he chose. Alyssa and Alex, both afraid of heights, were more conservative. We were getting socked in; we decided to return to camp.

We broke it down as the sky began shooting tiny pellets of snow at us. The wind roared, the tents collapsed, we didn’t lose any fabric. We packed. We descended. We had chai and barbecue in Nederland. We went to our homes. Alex and I took a bath. The end.

Last updated October 13, 2014