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I Can't Stand the Cold

It’s been cold again in Houston. No snow this time to make it feel magical. The wind’s strong, and with the ever persistent humidity, the cold cuts right through your coat and to your bones. Cold like this reminds me of a backpacking trip I took with my venture crew.

I was all set for the night. I dreaded the ache that would come from the miles of hiking we had ahead of us. Temperatures were set to drop to the 20s, so this would be a great test for my sleeping bag.

As I lay there shivering and trying to get warm enough to sleep, I realized everything outside would freeze overnight. I’d left my boots outside. I peeled myself from my not so warm, but warmer, sleeping bag and unzipped the tent in jerks with shaking hands. I blindly felt around and yanked my muddy boots inside. There, now I could at least hike in dry boots.

I tried to get comfortable, but my feet felt like two literal blocks of ice. I had two sets of socks on plus my sleeping bag, what the hell? I rubbed my feet together like a cricket to no effect. My feet were nearing the point of pain. I needed to do something.

I shivered more violently than before and pulled both layers of socks off. I don’t think I could have moved my toes if I tried. I massaged my feet forcing my blood to circulate and warm them up.

Thankfully, it worked. They defrosted enough for me to shiver myself into a chilly slumber. Though I did wake up several times throughout the night.

In the morning, I unzipped my tent and a completely intact sheet of ice fell to the ground. Good thinking on my part to bring the boots in. If I hadn’t, I would be in a world of hurt in the form of cold, wet feet and blisters.

Around lunchtime, we stopped at a stone gazebo, hoping it would shelter us from the gusty wind. It didn’t work that well. Gazebos don’t have walls. The wind forced its way into our lungs making it an effort to breathe.

Our hands were stiff as we cut up slices of apple, summer sausage, and cheese. It seems that many hiking lunches mimic the diet of hobbits. Unlike Sam and Frodo however, we had no fiery volcano scheduled on our trip to heat us up. Or majestic elves to gaze upon. Just miles and miles of trail and bitter cold.

Not much of note actually happened on that hiking trip. I just remember the intense cold and how no one got a good night’s sleep that night. It’s days like these that remind me how much I hate the cold.

For now I’ll sip my tea and dream of blistering hot summer days at the pool eating turkey and Dorito sandwiches. The sun may not come out tomorrow, but summer starts June 20th every year.