The Wild White Yonder with Girl and Guy

Part I: Motel 6 and the staging area



it's friday night. we're all packed up, with brand new gear. i've got a new down jacket, and new gloves and new, tall snow boots. i love them. i have always wanted my own snow stuff and never had it. california girl. east coast boy is solid with his gear. we buy him new gloves. we both get new sleeping pads - the best kind for the snow, the "thermarest." they partially self-inflate and then we give them a little blow-up boost at the end. we lay on them and sigh. it's amazing, our bodies do not touch the ground, and yet they are only a half-inch thick. we read manuals from online sources as to how to deal with sleeping in the snow, what-all we need, what to expect. guy might regret showing me, because i won't shut up about certain details. guy has researched, reserved and rented snow shoes. we pick them up at REI on our way out.

we get in the car and head towards cameron park. a little town not far from tahoe but beyond sacramento. we stay in this little town at a motel 6 because it's only $50, any motels or hotels closer to tahoe immediately jump to $100 and up. we are not satisfied with any idea less than leaving friday night and staying in a hotel. we love hotels. and motels.

we arrive at the motel 6 at 9:30pm. it's funny, we laugh at it. there's a big empty spot in the room, where the second queen bed would normally go. they have not used the particle board table and two chairs to fill up the spot, they have left it open. guy gasps in pure delight: a staging area! he says. he loves staging areas. it satisfies his need for order. he can spread all the goods out and pack up our backpacks in a detailed fashion. i am lucky here. i don't like doing that, and i don't have to. he works it all out. we drink some wine and comment on the terrible tv choices. sure there's HBO but all the network channels come in with snow. not the real kind. we'll get enough of that very soon, but we don't know that yet.


Part II: Carson Pass and the Wild White Yonder



saturday morning. we wake up and check out at 11. we've never not stayed until the absolute check-out time. sometimes we request late check-out.

we go to 3 brothers restaurant for breakfast, right in little cameron park, and then head northeast to lake tahoe. we choose, on the way, which sno-park to visit. when we get to meyers, ca, a little town at the sierra foothills, on the tahoe side, we stop to buy permits and we ask which would be the best one for snow shoeing and camping. the guy behind the counter doesn't blink. ah, it's nice to be around people who do what we do. another store worker confirms counter-guy's suggestion of trying the highest point to avoid all rain, and get just snow. store worker says it's beautiful there at Carson Pass, and silent too. they both check with us to make sure we have thought through everything we need. i love this. it's caring for your fellow human. they say, "well, you sound prepared. more so than most."

i know this pleases guy, and i smile at the thought of how.

upon arrival at Carson Pass, we park and start to dress. i get livid over a prepubescent boy who insists on standing right by the car door as i pull on tights and ski pants in the front seat. guy calms me about this too.

upon dressing, we do a short scout-about of the area and see that there is a clear trail leading off into the snowy distance. we are thrilled. excited. yelping loudly. guy says suddenly, OH no, we forgot covers for our packs. guy has our sleeping pads strapped to the outside of his pack and they're getting soaked in the pouring snow. i am panicked and obsessed with staying dry. because i am feeling confident due to guy telling me i look sexy in my new get-up, i approach three men who are also packing in and have garbage bags over their packs, i ask boldly, "excuse me, do you have any extra bags?" they all look at me amused. they probably think, "ha, this will be funny. a girl snowshoeing and sleeping in the snow." instead they condescendingly say, "Yes. we have extra bags. maybe next time you'll have extra bags and you can impress someone who needs help." i look at their faces peering out from under heavy wool caps. they have glasses and overly long beards. they are skinny and tall. i recognize this condescension as something a very smart person would say and not mean it. like scientist humor. i say brightly, Yep! That's what we'll do! THANKS!!

we cover our packs and head off into the wild white wonder.

the walking isn't too hard. we are following a trail that has been made already by snow-shoers and cross-country skiers. it's about a foot wide and two feet deep. we shuffle along in the snow, sometimes dragging our ski poles, because it takes extra effort to use our arms. i am familiar with this kind of pain. the thirty pound pack on my back and uphill climbing is old news for me. strangely, i love it. the head rush one can get from endorphins is lovely and intoxicating. it feels like natural LSD, to be specific, and guy and i are big fans.

we are joyous at being in the woods. sometimes we stop and kiss and say, "oh it's so great to be here!" it is breathlessly beautiful in the white wonderland. thick, smooth, powdered sugar snow is everywhere. when we step in the fresh snow, we sink almost to our knees. it's important to stay on the packed-down trail, although our plan is to pitch the tent somewhere slightly off-trail way down the road. we have vague ideas that we're only allowed to sleep overnight in the national forest and not the sno-park, and we figure we'll see a sign telling us when we're there.

along the way there are blue markers on the trees. they are visible and reassuring. we also see lots of couples with dogs. we stop and talk to one older couple hiking out with big packs on and a beautiful golden lab. i pet the lab. i am starved for animal attention. i can't help myself. we continue on and i think they must think i'm crazy. that too, is a familiar feeling.

along the way, we stop every few minutes, exhausted. we realize there might be an elevation sickness going on at 9000 feet, that we didn't think about. no one talked about it as a possibility. none of our research said anything, but it's for real. the exhuastion is specific. it feels like hot, thick blood rushing up and down, in and out of our extremities. like tomato soup without milk or water diluting it. full of sugar, blood like syrup. we get dizzy a bit but pay no notice, just take it slow. the snow is blinding too. the white white white starts to take on different colors. the holes we make with our ski poles are undeniably blue, like there's a perfect stream of blue hawaiian ocean running underneath us. we see squiggly wormy lines across our eyeballs, squiggling along like teeny maggots in our corneas. it's distracting so we focus more on the larger picture. the larger picture is one of absolute gorgeousness. white perfection. we are stunned again and again. stopping and staring. i start to feel so tired, that i can fall asleep at any given second, just leaning on my poles. my plantar faschiitis feet are killing me too. i knew this would happen. i don't care. i sweat and pull down my hood and open up the neck of my jacket. my hair gets soaked by falling snow. guy says, Your head should not be exposed when wet. i say, I'M HOT! he says, Well, it's bad, that's all.

i agree, but stay hoodless.

after about an hour, we both feel that we would like to stop soon. guy keeps saying, "Right up here" and "Around this corner." he wants our tent to be hidden from the road. i agree mostly, but insist, finally, that this is IT. we are HERE. he agrees and we go off trail with BIG steps, stepping up and over each new valley we make with each gigantic step that sinks a couple of feet in.

after just a few minutes, we find the spot and tear off the bags. i yell in an exaggerated voice, "Praise Jesus!" when my pack hits the ground. the loss of 30Ibs is shocking and desperately pleasing. guy throws off his pack. we are both breathing heavily. i feel that i am going to faint. i announce this and look at guy. right as i'm getting my steadiness back, he says, "i'm going to faint. i'm going to fall over." he sounds weird and his eyes are spinning. like a paralyzed tazmanian devil, his pupils are perfectly round and huge and seem to be moving from side to side. i run up to him to hold him steady and his head drops in full weight on my shoulder. he does not fall. we are surprised by this. i can barely speak, my mouth is frozen, i have a touch of hypothermia in the face, i say to guy, "i think we have evelation sickness." i can't even get the word right. snow is falling on our stuff, making it wet. we are too cold, tired and wet to make dinner. we immediately set up the tent, and set it up wrong. the three poles aren't working. i've set this tent up in the dark before and guy is a natural with tents. we stare at the tent like two idiots. we have no ideas how to fix it. we just stare. nothing is coming to us. our brains are frozen. suddenly i know what happens to people who get lost in the snow, not very far from a road, and yet can't find their way back to it. the cold makes you stupid. you simply cannot think.

this was our problem now.

finally, we figure out the tent. the brain-freeze scares us and we know we need to get inside as soon as possible, and get very warm.

Part II: Soup can toilet and the obnoxious god



my job is always setting up the tent and guy's is locking down the exterior space. any other time of the year, this means collecting wood and making a fire, besides setting up the stove and making seats. this is typical HUMAN in action: woman make home, man make fire, collect food.

i get in the tent and guy hands me stuff: thermorests go down, sleeping bags get unstuffed and zipped together (we made sure they could do this when i bought mine last year), blankets get unfolded and placed inside bags, pillows are made with soft sweaters, packs are stuffed in the bottom of the tent, key flashlights are put in accessible side pockets. we crawl in, unable to cook anything on our little bunsen burner because of continuous snowing. sometimes the snow even turns horizontal. we have decided to not only camp in the snow, but during a snowstorm. true, i start to question the intelligence of this mission. too late now.

after the tent is set, guy crawls in. i have already stripped off all clothing and changed into pajamas. i am in my bag getting warm. guy changes and gets in. we start giggling. we feel high. guy says, I feel like i'm tripping. we laugh and laugh. it's true. i feel so dumb, i can't even figure out how simple window functions work inside the tent. something i've done a million times. our vision is funny too. our voices sound weird and slow. we lay next to each other, wrapped up, laughing. we rest for a bit. then talk for a long time. we have no idea what time it is. i have brought playing cards and a book for this time, but it is too cold and our brains too frozen to do anything but be still. guy attempts to take my picture, but it is so foggy in the tent due to our heavy breathing, that the camera cannot focus.

after a while we fall asleep, only to be startled completely awake by something slamming into the roof of the tent. it's snow falling from a tree. it comes from so high up, that it hits hard enough to feel like a softball being chucked at us by an obnoxious god. it's so startling that i experience adrenaline spikes to my heart. it also makes us laugh in true startled fashion. we huddle closer to each other, as if it's possible to get any closer. guy reassures me over and over that everything is fine. i believe him. i go back to sleep.

and we are awakened again by snowballs. this time we see flashes of light across the roof of the tent. guy panics. he says quickly, "Did you see that?" actually i didn't at first, because i'm wearing a cashmere scarf around my face, protecting my nose, eyes and ears from the cold. i pull the scarf up and look. he says, "I must have imagined it" and lies down. i stare into the darkness trying to figure out how he could have seen light, when i see it too. i tell him. he jumps up and unzips a side door to poke his head out. at this time, i am so scared that there is a flashlight-wielding maniac in the forest, that i am no longer getting slight adrenaline spikes to the heart. now my heart is awash in panic. i wait for guy's reaction. he pauses and looks into the darkness. then - FLASH FLASH - there it is again. guy breathes deeply and zips us back in. he turns to me and announces that it's lightning. that's all. just lightning. "Without thunder? that can happen?" i ask. he says yes, it's ok. and we go back to sleep.

we both wake up twice in the night to pee. even though we have had barely anything to drink, this is inevitable, a happening at the absolutely most inconvenient time. i have no choice. i have to undress, suit up and get out. guy asks me to dig a trench around the tent to catch snow that is falling on us. this is so it won't pile up and bury us. i am extremely put-upon to do so, but i do, mainly because he's done everything on this trip. of course, he doesn't have to leave the tent to pee. he fashions a toilet out of a soup can.

i stumble out of the tent into the snowy darkness. it's completely silent in the wilderness. a beautiful sound. i walk a ways and drop my drawers. my pee burns a singular tiny hole, the exact diameter of the peestream and nothing more, straight through the snow for several feet. i wonder how far it has to go before it hits the ground. i dig the tent out of the snow. snow is several inches thick along the top of the roof, and piled up all around the edges, crawling up the sides. the snow is threatening the integrity of the fly, and a pole is getting bent. i dig and purge, dig and purge. my hands are frozen. i am pissed, but when i get back in the tent, somehow managing to avoid bringing the snow with me, guy holds me and speaks reassuringly. he is being a champion at the art how to deal with me. we settle in and sleep.


Part III: A quick exit and return home



this repeats a few more times in the night. i tell guy this might be the longest night of my life. i pose suggestions to him like, "What if the sun never came up again?" and "what if we fall, in an avalanche, all the way down the mountain and get buried?" "what if we can't find our way out in the morning? what if the trail has disappered?" he answers all of my questions calmly with reasonable and logical answers. phew. i need that. my mind is racing with heinous scenarios.

but morning does come and we lie in bed dreading the pack-up. it's going to be cold and wet and difficult but it must happen. we get the courage after much deliberation and set about it. guy gets out and deals with snow control outside, re-carving pathways and clearing a staging area. this means i pack up, consolidate and hand him stuff to put in the big packs, outside. the tent must go in the pack first, but everything must be out of the tent before we can pack it. this takes a deliberate course of action, performed quickly. we succeed. we get in a little fight about snow coming in the tent, but we are both so tired. i know this is why and don't get upset. we let it drop and continue to pack. an hour later, we're ready to go. guy's hands are frozen from packing without fat-fingered gloves. my toes are numb from standing still in the storm, waiting for him to finish. there is horizontal snow all around us. it is crucial to get moving. we do.

our trail is fortunately not covered on our way out. it is largely smoothed over, by what we later learn is 14 inches of fresh snow, but still visible. we have a GPS machine to help us get out if it had it disappeared completely, but it lacks topo maps, so our homemade route out would have undoubtedly been highly challenging. it's challenging enough as it is. we go slow, stopping every few minutes to catch our breath. the elevation sickness is not nearly as bad now. our bodies have magically adjusted. there is a bit of sun peeking through heavy storm clouds, but it is still snowing. it has been snowing for something like 16 hours, straight. we start our hike back and have to pick our feet up high, like we're marching, or like clydesdale horses prancing. up down, up down, it is so tiring, muscles throughout my legs start to spasm. i just take it slow. this becomes my mantra.

about an hour later, we are almost there. we are overjoyed. we can hear the engine of the snow plow clearing out the sno-park parking lot, and our car. i don't take as many breaks at this point, i just move it along. we get to the lot. we see our car. it is covered in snow. only the very bottom of the carriage is visible. the snow plow has already dug a bunch out. he yells at us to get in the little corridor leading to the bathrooms, while he plows one more row closer to the car. we do as he says. the plow comes by and shoots snow balls and snow spray straight over the bathroom half-wall, all over us! i crouch down protecting my body, with my back facing out. we get completely covered. it's like adding insult to injury at this point. we deserve prizes for what we have accomplished, not punishment at the finish line! he's a nice man though, and checks first to make sure we're ok. again, good to the fellow humans...it's nice and makes me smile. guy gets the car open, pushing past snow blocking entry. he starts very quickly piling everything in the back of the subaru. we are only one of three cars in the lot. he tells me to get in the car. this i do without hesitation. as i peel off all the cold, wet layers to put on the softest jeans i can remember, and the softest sweater of my life, guy is outside, sweating profusely, working until he's red in the face, clearing all the snow out of the way. i feel grateful. upon finishing he jumps in the car and puts it in drive. he changes nothing, just gets us moving out of there. we are starving and dehydrated and headed straight for the nearest restaurant.

after a massive pigout in meyers, we drive home happy. and fast! we get home in record time: 3 hours and 15 minutes, from south lake to the city. that night i dye my hair red and upload photos. we are in terrific moods. we have accomplished a lot.

i have proven that disease and fallen arches will not demand that i have a sheltered life. guy is happy. his girl will do any crazy thing he suggests. we have more than survived.