Sunday – September 8, 2020
- Start Point: Yellowstone Creek (Mile 68.1)
- End Point: Tungsten Lake (Mile 70.6)
- Distance Hiked: 2.5 miles
When I set up my tent near Yellowstone Creek last night, the sky was cornflower blue with a handful of fluffy white clouds above. It was so tranquil and warm. Honestly, it was really hard to conceive that a massive cold front was heading my way. But the steady winds starting to whip out of the west were a sure enough sign something was afoot.
I set up my tent at an angle so the doors wouldn’t flap all night in the constant breeze. Then, I set out up a few extra guy lines. I wanted to ensure everything was a taut and sturdy if the cold gusts heading my way ended up being stronger than expected.
This would be the first real test of my new tent. I never got the chance to use it earlier this summer on my other hikes. So it was completely untested in rainy or windy conditions. But, I felt pretty confident. Dozens of my fellow thru-hikers used this same single-walled tent on the AT last year. Why should I be concerned with a little inclement weather in Utah?
As the sun finally disappeared over the horizon and the temperature dropped, I hoped to get a better night’s sleep. It had been a rough night with the constant sweating and itchiness last night. I was totally exhausted by the time hiker midnight (9 pm) rolled around, and I could barely keep my eyes open.
As I tucked myself in, I decided to forego taking any Motrin for my muscle aches tonight (just in case that was the factor that kept me up and wrestling with my sleeping bag the prior night). I wanted to stay nice and toasty inside my mummy bag if those overnight temperatures dropped down into the 20s like the forecast predicted.
SNOW??
I’ll admit I surprised to see Park City was now predicting a 30-60% chance of overnight rain. When I peered at the 10-day forecast just a few days ago, the entire week was supposed to be completely dry out here. But, things change. And this crazy storm blowing down over the Rockies must really be trying to pack a wallop early in the season. Northern Utah might go from record highs in early September to record lows!!
The next thing I knew I was waking up around 11 pm to the sound of light rain falling on my tent. It wasn’t just going to be a low chance of rain. It was now a 100% certainty. But, I was dry inside my tent and the wind wasn’t too bad, so I drifted off to sleep again. I’d just have to deal with packing up a wet – and possibly frozen – tent in the morning.
When I woke again around 3 am, I could see there was now a layer of snow over the top of my tent! Holy moly. I guess the temperature HAD dropped. It was in the low 60s when I went to bed just six hours ago!
The first thing I needed to do was knock all the snow off my tent by pushing up on the roof. As I did this, I listened in amazement as heavy sheets of snow slid off toward the ground. Ok, now I was curious. How much snow had fallen in the past few hours while I’d been sleeping?
As I emerged from my tent, I could see white everywhere. The moon was nearly full, and the white snow seemed to glow in the moonlight. There was at least an inch of fresh snow on the ground, but it was just stunningly beautiful. The wind had completely died down to nothing now, and the night was completely still as I surveyed my surroundings.
Thank goodness I’d had the forethought to tuck my phone, external battery, and water filter deep inside my sleeping bag to keep them warm overnight. This bitter cold would definitely be bad for all three of them.
Before returning to my tent and tucking myself back inside, I quickly wiped the last bits of snow off the outside to make sure my tent didn’t turn collapse over the next few hours. This snow was an unexpected new development on my thru-hike. But it wasn’t so bad. It wouldn’t be my first time hiking in a few inches of snow.
And with that, I confidently crawled back in and snuggled down into my sleeping bag to go back to sleep until the sun came out.
WHAT THE HECK IS THIS?!?
I woke again two hours later (around 5 am) to the feel of something cold and wet on my face. What the…?
The snow was now blowing right INTO my tent. This wasn’t big fat flakes of snow, but small, wet icy particles. My tent was still closed up tight, but the snow was blowing right under my tent’s vestibule and into my tent!! The wind (which had completely disappeared two hours ago) had now resumed at a solid 15+ miles per hour!
I knew the first thing I had to do was wipe the snow off my sleeping bag. If the down stuffing in my bag got wet from these icy flakes, it would be absolutely worthless. And since it was supposed to be a pretty cold day, I knew I was going to want a dry, warm bag to crawl back into after I finished hiking this evening.
The problem with the snow seemed to be two-fold.
First off, the snow seemed to be blowing into my tent because the wind shifted directions overnight. I now had the strong wind blowing directly toward my tent’s doors.
The second issue was the big gap under the bottom edge of the vestibule where the wind could blow snow in under the tent’s doors. The design of my single walled tent allowed those doors to remain pretty high above the ground. This let the tent vent warm air out, thereby preventing condensation from building on the interior walls.
I really needed to get those flaps lower to the ground if I wanted to keep the snow out. Unfortunately this was a trekking pole tent. So that didn’t leave me with a lot of options to fix the issue.
My first inclination was to just lower the height of my trekking poles to decrease the overall height of the tent. That should eliminate the gap between the bottom of the tent doors and the ground so the snow couldn’t blow in, right?
So, I quickly got out of my sleeping bag, pulled on my rain pants and rain jacket and gloves, and shoved my feet into my cold shoes. I’d need to go outside and attempt this adjustment in the dark. But then, as I was unhooking the door on my way out, my situation went from bad to worse.
The small metal piece holding the tent’s doors together broke off and went flying into the storm. I had no clue where it went either. It was only about the size of a pea, so I had virtually zero chance of finding it in the dark. Or in the snow.
Shit!!! Now what?
I quickly dove back into my tent and grabbed a metal carabiner from inside. I’d have to use this to fashion a temporary solution. I could loop the carabiner through the pieces of plastic at the bottom edge of the tent doors, and then I could try to tie it down on the main guy line.
The plan sounded simple. But trust me it was anything but easy to do. It was dark. The wind whipping snow into my face and eyes. The light of my headlamp was making the snow look like those white streaks in Star Wars whenever Han Solo sets the Millennium Falcon on warp speed. Plus, I couldn’t wear gloves to tie the carabiner to the thin guy line cord. So my fingers were going numb in the cold.
With some luck though, I succeeded. Then, I hopped back into my tent and tried to warm up. In the process of my hasty repair, I’d gotten the vestibule doors down a little bit lower. But this wintery wind was turning ferocious and it just would not quit.
The only positive thing I had going for me was my vague memory of the weather forecast I’d seen yesterday afternoon. All the precipitation was supposed to push out around 6 am. I just needed to stay dry for another hour or so and let it pass.
WAITING FOR SUNRISE
Unfortunately, the storm didn’t recede after my hasty repairs. Small bits of snow were still regularly blowing sideways under the vestibule and into my tent. But now I had a new problem. My tent was beginning to sway under the pressure of the intense, relentless wind. The only support this thin DCF tent had was the two trekking poles holding it up, and a little extra help from the external guy lines I’d tied last night.
It was still pitch black outside. So the only thing illuminating the situation inside my tent was the tiny beam from my headlamp. As I surveyed my surroundings, I rapidly noticed the foot end of my tent had far less snow invading than the head end.
It was time to stay dry, I thought to myself as I quickly squirmed my body down there. I’ll just stay confined at this end of the tent until the storm dies and the sun finally comes up.
As I sat cramped into one half of my tent, several sudden bursts of wind hit my tent. They gusts were coming one after another. They were almost like waves.
The trekking pole holding up the entrance side of the tent was taking the brunt of the wind, and now it was stating to list inward now. I had to reach my hand out to bear against the wind and keep the pole upright.
Although my tent seemed to be withstanding the constant 10-20 mph winds, as soon as any stronger gust blew, the pole seemed dangerously close to collapsing. The blizzard swirling around my tent seemed to be showing no signs of stopping as I waited for sunrise.
The strong wind gusts were becoming more and more frequent and I soon fell into a rhythm. I would to thrust my hand out to hold the trekking pole firmly and provide some extra support each time it seemed to waver in the strong wind. Then release I’d it again after each gust passed so I could return my cold hand back into my sleeping bag to warm it back up.
This dance went on for about fifteen minutes, but then one of the gusts took me by surprise.
Suddenly, my tent was collapsing in on one side!! The trekking pole was down! A super strong burst of wind had blown it completely over, despite the fact that the guy line was still tethered to the ground! Damn it. This was turning into a real dumpster fire of a situation!
I scrambled out of my sleeping bag and unzipped the mesh door so I could push my trekking pole upright again. I had to fight to wedge the pole back down into the snowy ground as more bitter wind gusts fought against me.
There was no way the bottom of the trekking pole was going to penetrate the frozen soil, but at least the tent was back upright again. Yet deep down inside, I knew this was a temporary fix at best.
I zipped my mesh door back up and returned to the drier end of the tent, while leaning the back of my torso up against the trekking pole to try to give it as much additional support as possible.
Instead of sitting on my inflatable mattress, I turned it onto its edge and placed it next to my curled body like a wall. Hopefully this would to provide an extra barrier from the small flakes of snow still blowing in.
And that is how I’d stay huddled until the sun came up and I could reassess my options.
TIME TO MOVE
Dim daylight slowly started to brighten my tent around 7 am. Unfortunately, the storm was still blowing and my trekking pole had collapsed – yet again – despite my best efforts to keep it upright with my body.
With the additional natural light, I could now clearly see the head end of my tent where the snow was able to blow inside over the past hour and a half.
I’d completely quit trying to clear the snow out of my tent, and I’d focused all my attention on just keeping it upright instead. As I looked to the opposite end of the tent, I was appalled to see how much snow was coating the tent’s bathtub floor.
Holy heck!! I’d placed my black Ursack in the far corner of the tent to give the bathtub floor little extra weight while I was huddled on the opposite end. And it was now completely coated in snow! Plus there seemed to be enough extra snow to build an arsenal of snowballs! This was not good!
By now, the wind dropped back down to a consistent 10-15 mph, and there seemed to be fewer big gusts. It was time to move my tent somewhere more protected. It had already collapsed twice in the past hour. It was light out now, so I needed to find somewhere with better protection from the wind where I could ride out whatever was left of this damn storm.
I stuffed my sleeping bag into my waterproof bag and put it into my pack to keep it dry. Then I put my warmest layers on, and added my waterproof rain pants and jacket before setting off to scout for something better.
I quickly discovered the snow surrounding my tent was a few inches deeper than it had been when I’d woken at 3 am. Instead of an inch or two coating the ground, there was now a good 5-6 inches everywhere I looked! And there were drifts piling up even higher than that in some places. This additional snow now made it really difficult to find a good flat tent spot, since the terrain under the snow was completely concealed.
After a few minutes of travel in several different directions, I discovered there weren’t a lot of options to protect me from the savage wind. There were some skinny trees here and there, but none of them were close enough together to provide much protection. I could see plenty of bushes that were two feet high, but again they were of limited use.
I was in a valley at 11,000 feet without much protection in any direction I looked. No big rocks or hills. Not much to choose from at all. The spot I’d set up on last night really was one of the most sheltered spots out here. If I wanted something better, I’d probably have to hike a solid mile or two to get over the next pass.
But, I didn’t want to wander too far just yet. What if I needed to remain here for the entire day to ride the storm out and let some of this snow melt? At least I knew there was a creek nearby my current location.
I eventually settled on moving over to the south side of a few short evergreen trees about 150 yards away. At least they would serve as a barrier from the strongest gusts, which seemed to be coming from the north. The spot wasn’t perfectly level, but it would work for now. So, I quickly broke down my tent and dragged it over to my new location.
Luckily, I remembered the small rock fire pit near last night’s tent site. I ran back over to grab a medium-sized rock from the pile to help me set up my new site. I’d need something hard to pound my tent stakes back into this frozen ground. And before long, I had my tent erected in its new spot, and dove inside to warm back up.
MY NEW HOME
It took a bit of time to get warm again. My gloves were now soaking wet and my hands were freezing. I’d only brought a pair of warm fabric gloves on this thru-hike, not waterproof ones. There was no snow or rain in the forecast when I’d packed four days ago and it was 90 degrees the past few days.
But now, here I was – in a crazy upside-down version of my thru-hike where it was snowing and my hands were freezing! So, I shoved my cold, wet hands into my armpits to warm them back up, and then sat back to take stock my new situation.
My tent was mostly free of snow now. It was upright and seemed to be sheltered from the worst of the wind. There was no more snow blowing under the vestibule from the north (thank goodness). The carabiner holding the tent flaps closed appeared to still be holding. And I’d rotated my tent so that side was now to the back, so I didn’t have to try to unclip the carabiner to go in and out.
As I sat there and warmed up, I was so grateful I had an inflatable mattress to lie on instead of just a thin foam pad like a lot of other hikers like to use. My Therm-a-Rest was doing a super job to keep me off the frozen ground. It might not have the highest R-value on the market, but I was holding up just fine!
I’d just wait here right here until the storm ended. How much longer could it go on really?? The forecast for Park City showed the rain would end there around 6 am, so I suspected the snow would end here soon too. It was now after 8:30 am. I’d just hole up here for a bit and re-group. Time to use this downtime to eat something and warm myself up.
I broke out my stove, which I was happy to discover was still working in the cold and high altitude. With the trees blocking most of the wind from the north, I was able to open my vestibule on the south side of the tent and and boil a few cups of water to make myself a cup of coffee and some spicy ramen. It was so good to have something warm to eat and drink.
Unfortunately though, I also discovered my water bladder and water bottles seemed to be freezing. One of my bottles had ice plugging the mouth of the bottle, making it virtually worthless. And my 2L bladder had a big chunk of ice floating in it. I’d need to keep an eye on that situation closely.
OK, NOW WHAT??!?
As my food rehydrated, I considered my plans for the day. Hopefully this bad weather would die off by noon, and I could use the afternoon to hike at least a few miles west today and thaw everything out. So I broke out my paper map and began to look at all the different routes while I slowly ate my breakfast. I was about two miles west of Anderson Pass and Kings Peak, so I still had 38 miles to go to get to the UHT’s western terminus.
I already knew the UHT was the only east-west running trail out here in these mountains. But there were also a few smaller north-south running trails that intersected with the UHT. If I took one of those side trails, I could be to a trailhead in just under 20 miles. I might take one of those if I learned the trail ahead was really gnarly and I needed to bail out.
As I lay there looking at my map and pondering my various options, the wind picked up again. It was still snowing out there, and things were looking grim on the hiking front. Heck, I might not be hiking at all today if this storm kept up, and that lack of progress would put me behind schedule. With each hour that passed, my chances of making it to my pre-arranged pick up at the trailhead tomorrow evening frittered away.
Ok, it was time to update the folks at home. I didn’t want them worried.
Of course there was no cell service out here in the High Uintas. I was probably 20 miles from the absolutely nearest cell tower. So, I was glad to have my Garmin inReach Mini so I could at least stay in contact with the front country through the satellite system in the sky.
Once everything was powered up, I pulled out my phone and sent Keith a quick text updating him on my status:
Made it over Kings Peak yesterday. Lots of snow blew in overnight. Still snowing. Going to say put until it ends. May put me a day behind. Will update u later.
I barely pressed send on the text when the wind began to increase again. The gusts were picking up again and they seemed to be returning to their earlier ferocity. Then one of the corners of my tent came loose started flapping in the wind. Ah, come one!! Seriously?!? Apparently, I didn’t get the stake deep enough into the frozen ground to keep it secure.
I bundled up again to go out into the snow and deal with it. And as I opened the tent doors, the small metal piece that held the tent doors closed on that side suddenly snapped off! This was the same exact thing that happened with the other vestibule earlier this morning. The piece was nowhere to be found, and now I’d need to jerry rig a second carabiner on this side of my tent to hold the door closed. I just wanted to scream, “Will this nonsense never end??”
I was really starting to miss my old semi-freestanding double-walled tent. I never had issues with it collapsing. Or stakes blowing out of the ground. Or pieces breaking off in the fierce wind. Or snow blowing snow under its vestibule and into my tent!
Of course, I’d also never had it in winter conditions like this either. But, that was beside the point. In that moment I was seriously cursing my new tent!
I found my rock from earlier and used it to pound the stake back into the ground. Then I lugged a larger, snow-covered boulder over to place it on top of the tent stake – just in case. With that task done, I set to work trying to tie the carabiner to the tent’s main guy line so my tent doors would close again. My hands were freezing as I did this, and the wind was whipping with such insane force. This was absolutely nuts out here!
PLAN B SUCKS. WHAT’S PLAN C?
With my tent repairs complete, I was back inside trying to warm up again. It was now approaching 10 am and the storm was still swirling around me. The snow continued to fall at a consistent rate. The wind was alternating between a constant howl and sudden blasts of fierce force. This was, without a doubt, a blizzard. And I was stuck right in the middle of it at 11,000 feet elevation.
I wasn’t worried about my personal safety though. At least not yet. I had shelter. I had food and water. It was cold out, for sure. But I had enough layers with me and a dry enough sleeping bag that I was still plenty warm. I’d just have to ride this storm out. What else was there to do? It wasn’t going to last much longer – or so I hoped.
I tried to take my mind off what was happening outside my tent. I’d just sit tight and look at my Trails Illustrated map of the Uintas for the twentieth time. I’d pour over every detail. Trace the route of every pass I still needed to get over. Commit all the upcoming lakes to memory. And then listen to a podcast. The storm would eventually end. In an hour, or by this afternoon, or by tomorrow. It would be over. I just needed to relax and be patient.
But then everything shifted again. And by “everything,” I mean the wind. It was no longer coming for the north any more. It seemed to be shifting again and coming from multiple directions. How was that even possible?
The line of short evergreen trees that I’d expected to protect me from the worst of the wind was becoming less effective. It seemed my new location wasn’t nearly as good as I’d originally hoped. But I’d already seen everything else out there around me in this valley. None of it was really any better than this spot. And I couldn’t move my tent every time the winds shifted direction.
I needed to make a decision. Should I stay here and hold my ground or should I strike out for something better?
Finding a more sheltered spot would require hiking in this blizzard. And the next reliable water source wasn’t until Tungsten Lake, about 2.5 miles to my west and over another pass. What if I got over the pass though and it was exactly the same type of terrain on the other side? Was I willing to risk going out into this blizzard for nothing?
I was banking on something though. I had a hunch about Tungsten Lake. Almost all the other big lakes I’d passed in the last 30 miles had tall trees next to them. My tent site at Fox Lake two nights ago was smack dab in the middle of a forest of trees. Ditto for most of the other lakes. If could get myself to the lake, maybe I’d have somewhere to ride out the next 12-24 hours with better wind protection. Plus, I’d have plenty of unfrozen water at the lake to meet my needs.
But was it really worth doing, I wondered? Would I be able to navigate in the snow? This part of the UHT was mostly flat and marked by rock cairns. Yet, all the route markers would be completely covered by at least half a foot of snow today. I wouldn’t be able to get there by sight.
I didn’t really need the ability to see the terrain or trail to get there though. I had a route already mapped onto my phone. I could just follow the GPS track I’d created back home. It would be no worse than navigating in the dark or the fog, both of which I’ve done in the past just fine. It would be difficult – but not impossible, I reasoned.
As I weighed the risks, my mind continuously came back to the same thought. If the wind kept up and continued to shift on me, I might not have a choice. I’d already seen that my single-wall trekking pole tent wasn’t the greatest option in these high winds. And I needed to do whatever it took to keep those lightweight poles upright if I wanted to keep myself and my sleeping bag dry. That sleeping bag was my true lifeline out here. If this wind snapped either (or both) of my poles, I’d be toast.
And with that image, my mind was made up. I was going to hike west to Tungsten Lake. Plan C was in now effect.
LET’S HIKE
Let me tell you, hiking in a blizzard was never on my bucket list of things to experience in life. Everything that could go wrong was swimming around in my mind. I could get lost. I might step on something buried under the snow and twist an ankle. What if my toes froze? But, I had to push all that noise into the back of my brain and compartmentalize now. I was going to hike west.
I knew my fabric trail shoes were going to get soaking wet in the snow, so I needed to create a barrier to keep my feet *somewhat* dry. I put a large ziplock bags over each sock before shoving my feet into my shoes. Then I layered on my clothes, and jacket, and rain gear to keep as dry and warm as possible. After packing up, I added some additional quart-size ziplocks over my damp gloves like makeshift waterproof mittens to try to keep my hands warm.
With my tent folded up and hastily shoved into the outside pouch of my pack, it was time to hit the trail. I took my bearings and faced west before setting out on my way in that general direction. As expected, there was not even a hint of trail to follow. Just a cross-country journey in the fresh snow. But, I was heading toward Tungsten Pass and – eventually Tungsten Lake – no matter what.
I can summarize the entire 2.5-mile journey in two words: it sucked. The snow drifts were up to my knees in places. It was hard to see where I was headed with all the snow blowing at me. I knew I was headed west, but the wind kept changing direction. One moment it would be a crosswind that seemed to blow horizontally in front of me. Then it would switch to a headwind and be blowing right into my face.
My buff was pulled up to cover the bottom of my face, and it seemed to crust over with a layer icy snow in just a matter of minutes. The path ahead of me was indistinguishable. But, every now and then, I could make out a taller rock cairn ahead of me on the hillside to keep me aimed in the right direction.
As I made my was up toward Tungsten pass, more small trees emerged, but they didn’t provide any more shelter than where I’d just left. And the ground was more sloped here. I needed to keep going.
My progress was insanely slow, and I had to pull out my phone repeatedly to see where to go next as I worked my way west. I was apprehensive about stepping on anything poking through the snow. After all, the only things that seemed to emerge from the pure white terrain were the bushes and some slick boulders dotting the slope. I was better off wading through the knee-deep snow than to risk stepping on those uneven, icy rocks.
After more than an hour of of this, I was able to work my way over to a sign marking my progress. It seemed amazing to me that it wasn’t covered completely up. They wasn’t even a flake resting on the top of the wood signpost. But, I think this absence of snow was more of a testament to the wind than anything else. Any small flakes that landed in it were immediately blown off.
The more telling detail was all the whiteness obscuring my view like dense fog. I could see about 20-30 feet in the distance, but not much further than that. Consequently, I wouldn’t know whether there was a decent forest of trees to protect me along Tungsten lake until I actually made it there. The visibility just didn’t allow for more. I’d have to take this leap of faith and continue on.
TUNGSTEN LAKE
I made it to the banks of Tungsten Lake just before 1 pm. It had taken me two full hours to hike the short distance between Yellowstone Creek and the lake. My feet were numb. My hands hurt. I definitely wasn’t dressed for a blizzard. But I’d made it intact!
That was the good news!
The bad news was the forest of trees I’d hope to find at the lake didn’t exist. It wasn’t like Fox Lake, or Lower Bendler Lake, or Chepeta Lake, or Deadman’s Lake, or any of the other big lakes I’d passed. Sure, there were some tall trees here and there. But nothing like the forest I’d hoped to find.
There was one tiny little upgrade though. The side of the lake where I’d emerged was downhill from a bunch of boulders. They weren’t big enough to form a cave or protect me. But, the rocky slope they were on seemed to be blocking some of the wind from that direction.
If I nestled up against a thin line of evergreen trees on the side of the lake, I’d be able to place myself between two natural barriers. I’d have the rocky slope on one side of my tent blocking the wind, and the trees on the other side would be blocking it from a second direction. This just might work.
And so I set to work erecting my tent and creating a structure to get me out of the wind and cold. Before ducking inside though, I needed to head down to the lake and get some more water. My one bottle was frozen solid now and I’d needed to empty out my soft water bladder before it did the same thing.
As I gathered freezing cold water from the shore of the lake, it appeared like there were ocean waves coming toward me. The wind was creating whitecaps on what would normally be a tranquil alpine lake. This day was turning into an insane saga! When was this storm going to finally abate?
NOW WE WAIT
After getting into to my tent and unpacking again, I stripped off my hiking socks and put on my sole pair of warm, dry socks. Then I dove into my sleeping bag to get warm. As I lay there trying to warm up, I kept thinking: I’ll be telling this story for years to come, for sure. Remember that time I went for a solo hike in Northern Utah and it was 90 degrees one day and then I got trapped in a literal blizzard the next?? Hahaha, wasn’t that some Type 2 fun?!
I soon decided my new tent spot was an improvement over the last two sites. I could still hear the wind howling, but I didn’t feel the bulk of the wind against my tent. I wasn’t nearly as worried now about snow blowing inside nor about my poles breaking. I could just lay here in my tent and wait for the storm to end.
As the afternoon hours slowly passed, I remained holed up inside my sleeping bag. I listened to a podcast to take my mind off the fact that I wasn’t going to be hiking any further tonight. I still had 36 miles to go. I’d just have to extend my thru-hike one additional day. I’d get up tomorrow and do my best to hike some decent miles – assuming the snow on the ground permitted it.
I’d waded though snow drifts up to my knees on my way to Tungsten Lake – and there was at least 18-24″ on the ground in most places. That meant I’d be undoubtedly be post-holing through a bunch of frozen snow tomorrow if I tried to hike. Who knows. I might even have to hold off another whole day before hiking again. Hopefully the sun would come back out tomorrow and melt some of this snow and make it easier.
That’s when I decided to inventory my food supply. I wasn’t hungry. But this exercise was mostly for something to do and keep my mind going. I’d only packed enough food for a 5-day trip. But I always added one extra small meal and some additional snacks to every trip, just in case I was delayed.
Today was now Day 4 of my hike. As I looked over the food left in my bag, I figure I had enough to make it another 3-4 days out here. I might have to ration it out a bit. But, I could definitely make it stretch until I got to a trailhead.
While I had my food out, I decided I’d try to make myself a cup of instant coffee. It was now close to 4 pm now, and all I’d had to eat or drink was my breakfast ramen and coffee, and some ice cold Lake Tungsten water. A warm cup of coffee would do the body good.
I assembled my stove and found a spot in one of my vestibules to try to light it without setting my tent aflame. But when I pulled my mini Bic lighter out, the stove wouldn’t light. I tried about 10 times without success. In fact, all I got for my effort was a blood blister on my poor thumb.
As I lay back on my air mattress and I looked upward in frustration, that’s when I spied my hiking socks. The same ones I’d taken off after I set up my tent. When I took them off, I hadn’t wanted to put them in my sleeping bag because they were fairly wet from the snow. So, I just hung them up like I normally would after the end of a day of hiking.
But hanging them to dry in the freezing air had only turned them into frozen sock-sicles. I’d never get my feet back into them now. I’d need to put them into one of my ziplock baggies and put them into my sleeping bag to thaw. Ah man, I should have done that from the start! Damn it!
FORECAST
As I kicked myself for my stupid rookie mistake, I decided to check the weather on my Garmin inReach. I’d never used the weather feature before, and normally I just rely on whatever my phone shows. However, with no cell signal out here, my inReach was the only way to check on how much longer this storm was going to last.
I’d expected any potential rain or snow to blow through overnight. And I’d thought it was definitely going to end around daybreak. But, now it was late afternoon and there didn’t seem to be any sign of the blizzard slowing in the least. The snow was still falling outside. The wind seemed to be just as strong. Was there a weather break coming soon?? And if so, when?
The weather service that Garmin uses is called “Dark Sky” (yeah, pretty ominous sounding, I know). And it gives a 48-hour weather forecast in two-hour increments. Thus, I wasn’t expecting anything super accurate, but just a rough estimate of what to expect ahead. It might boost my morale if I knew this storm was going to end in another hour, or 4 hours, or at least sometime in the foreseeable future.
The forecast was a mixed bag though.
One one hand it confirmed that it was super windy and cold out here. According to Dark Sky, the wind was currently blowing at my location around 15-20 knots (or 17-23 mph) with gusts to 30 knots (35 mph). And the high temperature today was 18°F with a wind chill of 3°F. Yep, that seemed to about sum it up. It sucked!
On the other hand, the weather app was also telling me there was only a 30% chance of light snow today! Really?!? Thirty Percent? Light snow? The 2+ feet of snow that’s sitting outside my tent seems to contradict that statement just a little bit. I’m not sure I would characterize two inches over 12 hours as “light snow.” Let alone two FEET of snow in that same period!
As I scrolled ahead, the future forecast was just as vague. It continued to say there was a 30% chance of light snow. Well that’s useless. I guess that meant the blizzard swirling around me could end in another 15 minutes or it could last for another two days. All I knew for sure is that it was cold, windy, and snowy.
A NEW DEVELOPMENT
Well, there wasn’t much point in ruminating over the bad weather. It wasn’t likely to change my circumstances. And, while I’d hoped for some good news, I was no worse off than I was before I’d checked the weather forecast. I was flying blind and I’d have to just deal with things as they came.
My biggest worry now was the deepening snow. With my socks soaked and frozen, I was going to have to be very careful with any future hiking. I didn’t want to develop frostbite on my toes or feet on my way out of here tomorrow of the next day. I didn’t have snow shoes with me. And my poor shoes were frozen solid too!
Then the wind suddenly shifted again. I no longer had the benefit of the rocky slope and trees protecting me. Now the wind was racing between them like it was being channelled into a chute. And now it was picking up the snow and blowing it sideways against the end of my tent! Little bits of snow were now invading my tent again from a new direction near my feet. Noooooo!
I found myself in another never-ending battle of trying to wipe the snow off my sleeping bag, only to have it instantly reappear again. This was NOT good. If the snow kept coming in, the down in my sleeping bag would wet out. All the feathers would clump together and lose their loft. And that meant it would be unable to keep me warm.
I quickly shoved the footbox of my bag into my waterproof pack liner, but that only covered the bottom third of my sleeping bag. So, then wrapped my rain jacket around the next third of my body. It wasn’t perfect. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But, it was a small added layer of protection.
Is it time??
Ok, now things were getting more perilous. My tent situation was becoming ridiculous. I had no idea when this storm would end. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse. At this rate, I’d soon have a tent full of snow and a soaking wet sleeping bag. Every hiker knows a wet bag could lead to a fatal outcome in these wintery conditions.
There wasn’t anywhere else to go for shelter. I’d already hiked more than two miles to get here and it would be getting dark in another hour or so. There was zero chance of getting out to a trailhead tonight. The closest trailhead to me – using any nearby trail – was still 18-20 miles away.
Plus, I didn’t have appropriate gear to hike in these conditions. I’d only packed for three seasons, not four. I didn’t have snowshoes. I didn’t have dry gloves. My trail socks and hiking shoes were frozen solid. There was zero chance to make a fire with all the sticks, wood, or pine needles out here soaking wet. Plus, I’d never even get a fire started or keep it lit in this 20-30 mph winds.
The fact is, I brought enough gear to keep to deal with a cold snap, but not the right gear for a blizzard that dropped several feet of snow in less than a day. This situation was crossing into really dangerous territory. I might not make it through the night out here if this continues. Not to mention what might happen if it gets worse. I had to be realistic about my prospects.
And that’s when I considered the unthinkable…pressing my Garmin’s SOS button.
But how do you define an backcountry emergency? Did this qualify for a rescue? If I waited until I was in even more peril, would it be too late? None of my questions had easy answers.
I was loathe to tap out and admit this hike was simply too dangerous now. What would other people – other hikers – think when they heard I’d had to be rescued from a trail? Was I really backed into a corner where I felt this was my only option???
In that moment, my thumb hovered over the SOS button on my Garmin. If I pressed it, there would be no going back.
But then, before I could definitively make up my mind about what to do, my tent collapsed again on me. A gust of wind had blown one of my trekking pole supports! And I needed to deal with this situation first.
UHT DAY 4A SUMMARY
HIGHLIGHTS
- Making it to Tungsten Lake. I’m proud of myself for making it there safely, despite the fact that the trail was completely obscured by snow and there were near whiteout conditions at times.
CHALLENGES
- A blizzard! Seriously?!? This wasn’t supposed to happen and while I was prepared for a 60-degree temperature swing and maybe a few inches a snow, I didn’t expect this.
- With my tent repeatedly failing and no sign of the storm letting up, I need to consider how much worse this situation could get. Do I try to get out while I can? Or do I risk a potentially catastrophic outcome?