Camp Potosi - Part Five

Sleep has been fitful. I wake up often, will roll around to get comfortable, and then go back to sleep. It's still silent. The only sound being the air traffic from McCarron Airport 50 miles away. The planes fly over this way on their way to California. Carole Lombard, the actress and wife of Clark Gable died in a plane crash on this mountain. The wreckage is still there. Mostly looted, now, by tourists, but the bigger pieces of no value still remain.


4:30 am

I am sharply awake. It's cold. Hopefully, as cold as it is going to get. I reach out to feel the tent wall, and cannot help but laugh. There are sheets of ice covering the inner walls of the tent, now. Not just small frozen dew drops. It's like camping in a meat locker. I'm still relatively comfortable in my two layers of sleeping bags, but my face, especially my nose do not have the same protection my body does. They are cold. Not painfully cold, but cold. I pull the hood of my fleece sweatshit tighter and curl up into fetal position so my head is covered by the sleeping bag better.

Back to sleep.


6:30 am

Mark said I wouldn't be able to sleep past sunrise. The sun and the noise of the animals coming to life would wake me. Sunrise was an hour ago. I strain to hear the birds, but only 3 caws from distance crows make up the morning symphony. I unzip the tent and stick my hand outside to feel the temperature. It's still frigid. There is still ice on the wall of the tent. I'm still tired.

Good night.


9:30 am

I decide it's finally time to drag myself up. Not so much concerned about needing to be up to get ready to hike, or to breakfast. I'm not very hungry and it's still four and a half hours from the meet. What I worry about is morning hikers ambling by. People will get started early, so if they are about, this would be nearing time for wanderers to happen by. I drag myself up.

I throw on my gloves and go for a short hike. I would like to get to see the valley, and see if I cannot find where my misake was made. I still do not see it. The best view of the planned route is near the arches, but that's too far off for a short stroll.

When I see the route I did take, I am shocked. I cannot believe what I had climbed. It's rough. Rocky. Narrow ridges. Exactly the kind of terrain I do not like. I prefer horribly long distances on relatively flat terrain. I would never have agreed to take this route. It's amazing what fear can push you through.

Up a ways is a fenced off area I saw the day before. I had no time to explore it. I do, now. It appears to be a mine shaft. But it's not carved into the side of the mountain, like a cave entrance, as most are. This one goes straight down. The fence is new. About 12x12 with barbed wire around the top. No ancient keep out signs to warn of an unstable mine. This one has no trespassing signs. This might be an active mine.

Unable to figure out why I couldn't find the route I wanted, I return to camp. I have a ton of time, and nothing to do. Building a morning fire seems an appropriate way to spend the time. Some hot chocolate sounds good. I get a nice fire going, and spend a lot of time just enjoying the warmth. I didn't realize how cold I was. This is nice. Hot chocolate time!

Blech. The cup has residue from last night's cooking debacle. It looks....foul. I try to wipe the gunk out, but it's like cement. I can't get it clean. And knowing that it might take me another 45 minutes of frustration to get hot water, I pass. Ice water is easier.

I turn on my cellphone, and two messages are waiting. A final good night from Sandy, and a 'Are you awake?' that Mark sent, two hours after I had gone to sleep. My spirits are high, so I answer his query, "We are sorry, but the party you are trying to reach is unable to answer because they died from exposure." A few moments later Mark sends an "lol". I am glad to know that my death amuses him.

It's time to start packing. I start pulling the stuff out of the tent, being careful to not get the gear wet from the now-melted ice in my meat locker. After getting everything out, I use mop up the heavier condensation. I've taken off the rainfly and opened the door, and turned the opening in the tent towards the sun. Hopefully it will be mostly dry by the time I need to pack it up.

The fire has long burned out, but it's still warm. I kick dirt over it, and douse it with water. Then more dirt. Then mix in the dirt and the ashes. The more dirt. And more mixing. Then spread out the cooled mixture over a wide area. When I'm done, there is little indication that I was ever here. I am quite proud of my work. The next visitors will not even know a human was ever here. Just the way it should be.