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The Boulderfield (Page 1) |
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by Jerry Cates |
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After figuring out there was no danger of altitude sickness, I relaxed and got some much needed sleep. Discomfort couldn't compete with exhaustion. I dozed off to the sound of torrential rain beating against my face through the outer layer of the bivvy sack. The Fifth Day, August 16, 1999 When I awoke, it was after midnight, the rain had stopped and it was possible to unzip the top of the bivvy sack. The cloudless sky was ablaze with stars. The Milky Way cast a bright ribbon across the sky. Its boundaries were plainly visible. I thought of what Carl Sagan would say at such a moment... I lay there for a moment, still soaked to the bone, but warm in that little cocoon, gazing at the stars. Before long the brain started working again. The only rational thing to do, now that the rain had stopped, was to unzip the bivvy sack, pull the sleeping bag out, and spread it on the rocks to dry. While it dried, I would have to stomp around, rubbing my legs, arms and trunk to dry out my clothing. With luck, in a couple of hours I would be dry again. There was a brisk wind blowing, and temperatures were hovering in the 20's. The moisture should evaporate pretty quickly.
As teeth-gritting an experience as I knew that process would be, it still beat the alternative. So I dragged my shivering body out, pulling the sleeping bag with me. The bivvy sack had nearly a gallon of water in it. It was waterproof, and that's when I realized it could have been used to cover my gear on the way up... I spread the sleeping bag, heavy with water, over two large boulders on the perimeter of the campsite and started rubbing my limbs. Fortunately, the polartek outer gear dried out quickly, and kept me reasonably warm while I continued a vigorous rubdown to dry out everything under it. The polyester underwear wicked the moisture away from my skin, and did passably well as an insulator- it's a good thing my underwear was not cotton. Every few minutes I shook out the sleeping bag, and turned it over. At first, now that my body was no longer keeping it warm, it froze solid as a rock, and turning it over was a chore because it kept the shape of the rocks it had been laying on. As it dried, its rock-hard nature softened somewhat, so it began to look and feel like an ordinary sleeping bag again. Its diminishing weight also signaled that it was fast losing its moisture to the dry mountain air. I danced around my little campsite for a little more than an hour. Maybe two, at the most. When I finally zipped back into the bivvy sack, inside a dry sleeping bag, this time with my face poking out, I was one happy camper... It was probably somewhere between 2 and 3 a.m. and sleep resumed about the time the zipper stopped zipping. I awoke again just after 5 a.m. feeling very refreshed. The sky was growing brighter, but the mountain was still black. Getting up, I peered over the top of the rock barrier surrounding my campsite and watched the twinkling headlamps of hikers ascending up to Boulderfield from Granite Pass. It was an eerie sight, seeing the headlamps stretched out along the trail. I thought to myself "... most of these day-hikers will make it to the summit today, but I may not be among them." Then I stopped, held a one-man pep talk, and put those negative thoughts away. As I did so, several hikers silently passed by the campsite, pressing on toward the Keyhole. I pulled the cooking gear out of the pack, and boiled some water. Soon a bowl of steaming hot soup was ready to eat, and it warmed me up good. By 6:17 a.m., when the above photo was taken, the sun had not yet peeped over the horizon but dawn was nigh. Several climbers can be seen heading up to the Keyhole. Next: The Boulderfield Page 2... Longs Peak Menu ... Bugsinthenews ... Books About Longs Peak |
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