My wife has always hiked 14ers here in Colorado. If you aren't familiar with that local term, a 14er is a mountain that is fourteen thousand feet high. They're the king of the hills kind of. There aren't that many in the US and most of them are here in Colorado.
Lisa used to like to hike them in the winter on snow shoes. Then she met me and I brought her down. Because I have felt guilty for being a drag on her adventures I agreed to go camping in the mountains above Woodland Park this weekend. I like the idea of being cocooned away in a warm cozy tent as the snow gently drifts down through the silent pines. That's the romantic notion anyway. The reality was more like me, freezing my ass off and not sleeping a wink. Sure the campfire was great, it kind of reminded me of my years stationed in Alaska. During the winter months all of my friends and I would have bonfires out behind the base in -30 degree weather. Back then I had the toughness of youth and the aid of a lot of alcohol backing me up. Now not so much.
The campfire did wonders to warm whichever section of my body was pointed at it for the minute, needless to say, I was literally freezing my ass off while my belly was toasty.
The tent was actually pretty toasty until my 45 year old bladder kicked in and I had to slip into the 20 degree night to try and hide from the wind behind a skinny little pine tree. All the fresh cold air must of been too fresh, I don't think I slept more than ten minutes at a stretch for the entire night. Lisa didn't do too much better. And the dog, as insulated as she is must have shared our pain, she whined all night and looked as frazzled as I felt in the morning. As soon as we got home she found a corner and slept the rest of the day.
All in all it was great fun and I'm looking forward to doing it at least once more before the end of winter. If I gained nothing else from it, I really appreciated my bed for the next three nights.
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