(PHOTO: The view from camp)
“You’re going to catch a colder.” – Jonathan Safran Foer
Ten hours on the road later, I was freezing my ass off in a tent on the cusp of a limestone cliff. I had already taken a photo of the ridge across the canyon - the one that looks like it has a stone penis tip. I had already eaten a great meal, drank a few good bears, and pitched a tent with help from new friends. I had already questioned my sanity for taking on such an endeavor with so little camping experience.
I had already lost my pants.
But not in a good way.
Headlamp beaming from my forehead, I rifled through my bag, trying to find my base layers. I was shaking, laughing, and feeling as if it were going to be a long, long night. I had definitely caught a colder.
Eventually, after some not-so-minor acrobatics, I had two pairs of pants on, a hat on my head, gloves on my hands, and a cozy mummy bag zipped up around me. As I laid my head down on a tiny travel pillow, as I watched the tent walls breathe in and out with the chilled night air, I asked myself, “What in the hell am I doing here?”
And just as I dozed off, I heard a voice.
I faded into a deep mountain sleep, and forgot all about my valley worries.