A recent NH 4000 Footer Hiking and Climbing post asked what were the coldest temperatures members had camped or hiked through. I thought of responding, but then convinced myself that my experiences were so ancient they would likely be of little interest to many in the group. Still, it did cause me to re-live some earlier times outdoors ---- and that's especially welcoming to someone that has decided not to continue winter hiking (prudent, I think, for anyone close to my age who prefers hiking solo and experiences a bit of Raynaud's.) This winter my hiking is coming to me vicariously through accounts and photos of others posting on a number of hiking forums --- they are creating their own stories they will be retelling later. I appreciate hearing them now!
I've decided to write a few cold weather experiences here more for my own record or benefit, or maybe my own therapy, than for any other reason. I don't suggest that they are more interesting or extreme than any other's. All of us spending time outdoors in the winter have lived our own cold weather stories. Is it just me, or do stories of cold weather have a special resonance with us all? I seem to remember them more vividly than some others.
I remember a winter camping trip as a Boy Scout in the early 1950's. We lived in a small northern New Hampshire town, but our troop was large, active, and energetic. Our leader was a WWII 10th Mountain Division veteran. He purposely dragged us out in some extreme weather. On the trip I'm remembering we were up in Caswell's pasture just outside of town. Our base camp was a canvas wall tent set up with snow blocks banked up the sides. It's front flaps were open and a large fire just outside provided some heat. Most of us, however, were there to pass various tests so we had built individual shelters in the surrounding woods. After dark it began to get cold --- and soon, even colder. Finally it was dangerously frigid! Most of the shelters were probably very good (Doug Mckown had taught us well) but I'm sure all of our gear was lacking. Younger readers here should realize that during that time REI and EMS either didn't exist or were few and far between.. Outdoor gear then most likely came from an Army-Navy Surplus store or, if your family could afford it, maybe gum boots or a wool shirt from L.L.Bean. I had a sleeping bag, though a few others were huddled in a couple of blankets. At some point Doug came and told us all to get in the main tent. It helped, but there were so many of us that we had to keep rotating back to front --- freezing to roasting. And, there was a fear that the tent might catch fire from the blaze we needed to keep stoked out front. Someone complained of their toes hurting. Doug had him take his boots off, looked at his toes, and said,"OK, pack everything up, we're going home." So we hiked back in to town and Doug took us all home, knocked on front doors at 2:00 am, and safely delivered a bunch of tired and nearly frozen young boys to, probably, very anxious parents. Needless to say, there were a number of lessons learned that night!
Another memory is of February 1963 with the 172nd Infantry Brigade playing war games with Canadian and Norwegian troops over a large area east of Fairbanks, west of Eagle and north of Tok Junction, Alaska. Here I have a clear recollection of the actual temperature. It was below zero the whole month --- but for one full week it never rose above 45° below zero! The officers were delighted. We were out there to test equipment and capabilities --- and their reports could all look pretty impressive after this test. It was impressive, but a bit less thrilling, to us enlisted personnel however. One night I came back in from late perimeter guard duty to find our squad's tent unbearably hot. In an attempt to counter the cold outside the others had cranked our gasoline burning box stove as high as it would go. After it became clear I was not going to convince them to turn the damn thing down I packed up my stuff and moved out into the 45° below night. What was I thinking? In addition to the excessive heat, I was sure the stove would explode at some point! Cautious or chicken --- I'm not sure which. Outside I scooped out a depression in the snow, lined it with a heavy canvas cargo tarp, put in my air mattress and double down sleeping bag, took off my K boots, climbed in taking the boots with me, pulled the tarp over the top and spent a reasonably comfortable rest of the night. The few times I peeked out I remember the northern lights were especially impressive. And ---- the stove never exploded!
I was on Ski Patrol at Cannon Mt. for a lot of years. On days with extreme cold or wind, or both, we would sweep less traveled trails regularly during the day --- so we were out in a lot of bitter weather. Despite every face mask and balaclava available to us I've had my nose and cheeks frost bitten more often than I'd like. We took some pride in being able to say we had skied through wind chills off the chart --- they were probably really at the edge of the chart, but we reasoned that if we'd experienced a strong gust of wind then we would have been off the chart.) But there is beauty and awe at the extremes also. One time, closing trails on a bitterly cold late afternoon, I was supposed to meet another patrolman at a checkpoint. At some point I found myself standing beside the trail coming out of a trance and realizing my name was being called. Jack was downhill at the checkpoint waiting for me, concerned, and calling my name. I had stopped on Vistaway and become fascinated by the slow dance of alpenglow over on Franconia Ridge. It's mesmerizing effect had transported me to some other place! Beautiful yes ----- but dangerous too!
OK --- enough of my stories. Better for you to go out and make your own, or if you've already lived them, write some down. You (and maybe your grandchildren) will be glad you did.
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