Date: 2013-03-26
To: Jerry Cabin Shelter
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: light snow

On 3/26, I started out late. Late late. Struck by loneliness inconditions far beyond what I was used to, I waited in my tent,huddled in my sleeping bag, slowly eating breakfast, looking atmy map. I used the shelter broom to sweep a path through 8 inchesof snow to the privy so I could use it without soaking my feet.By 12:30, no one had arrived. I assumed they had all had a similarexperience as I, and had headed to the hostle just a few milesback to dry out. I thought of the old alpinist proverb: the mountain will be there tomorrow; make sure you are too. With thisin mind, I decided to head back to the hostle, 4 miles back, anddry out and get warm before I continued on my journey. As I left,just 15 minutes down the hill, I ran into Roadrunner. He askedwhy I was going south, and I quickly explained: too cold, need todry out. This did not waver much my decision to retreat: roadrunnerwas crazy, and utterly dedicated to his schedule. If his schedulesaid he needed to be at some place at some time, he'd be there.I pressed on south. Then I ran into Pack Rat. And Panch. And Car Jacker. And Starsky and Hutch. Too cold, need to dry out.By the time G came up, I was sick of explaining myself, and beforeshe had time to open her mouth, I told her to ask the others whyI was going south. As I approached the road I'd turn off on toreach the hostel, I took a quick look at the elevation profile onmy map. A pretty steep descent. That meant a pretty steep ascent later when I came back. A pretty steep acsent that I'd already done. As I stood on the threshold of the descent, I thought ofhow warm and dry the hostel would be. How I'd feel instant releif as soon as I stepped in the door. How the host would complement me on my forsight for retreating in such awful weatherand conditions. And how, as soon as I sat down in the warm, dryhostel, an overwhelming feeling of defeat and regret would washover me. The mountain will be there tomorrow, but by god, I'mgoing to summit it today. I turned around in the middle of the trail and started climbing the mountain once more. I hoped that Imight be able to pass some people and secure a spot in the shelter,so I charged up the mountain as fast as I could, using postholeswhere it was convenient for my stride and making my own where itwasn't. By the time I got to the end of my 1st big climb, I wasexhausted.But I trudged on across rock obstacles and exposed ridges until I got to the Jerry Cabin Shelter. I hadn't managed topass anyone, so there was no room, and my fleece was now soakedin sweat from my desperate climb up. Following Panch's lead, I setmy tent up inside the shelter, flipping the picnic table inside onto its side to make room and act as a windscreen. As I sat in mytent, I attended to one final order of business: making a hot waterbottle to help keep me warm through the night. As the water was reaching boilingn though, my stove tipped, and spilled, pouring boiling water and flaming alcohol all over the shelter floor.I was lucky that I didn't catch my tent or anything else on fire.However, this meant I had wasted a lot of fuel, I would have nowater bottle as I had no more fuel to spare, and I would have to collect water in the morning to replace the liter I'd spilled.And in addition to that I'd burned my fingers trying to move my pot prematurely. The ground felt like an ice cube through my sleepingpad, and my sleeping bag cold itself, until halfway through thenight. I'd hiked about 13 miles that day, and only made 7 milesof progress, but at least I was still on the trail.