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What
do boaters do during the winter?
Part
of my Winter Skills class at the University of Idaho was
spending 3 days and 2 nights camping in snow caves near
the Idaho/Montana Border. After a winter of drinking too
much soda and eating artery-clogging college student food,
I was looking forward to it…my body was craving the
exercise and fresh air.
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I
met the other 10 or so students on campus early Friday morning.
It was drizzling and cold in Moscow and my lack of sleep
from packing the night before made me groggy and grouchy.
After a quick power nap in the van we arrived at the trailhead
near Mullan, Idaho and began our hike. We trudged through
forests of fir and pine; the snow was melting and small
streams trickled down the snowy, muddy trail. As we gained
elevation, we crossed several streams with narrow snow bridges.
We arrived at the camp around lunchtime and were greeted
by lots and lots of snow. |
Loading
up at the trailhead |
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Our
instructor, the infamous Mike Beiser, located safe sites
for us to start carving out our home for the weekend. Soon,
snow started flying from the hillside as students dug into
the cold, wet, frozen hill. It was fun and I felt like a
mole as I burrowed several feet into the snow bank. The
two other gals in my “cave clan” and I divided
up the work. We took turns playing the role of architect
(snow scraper), demolition specialist (snow hauler) and
interior designer (kitchen & shelf carver). |
By dusk, we were exhausted, wet and regretting not packing
our nice tents with us. Our first night in the cave was
a little uncomfortable: the “ground” wasn’t
level, the cave ceiling dripped on our heads all night and
the claustrophobia got to me a few times. Every time I tried
to lift my head to look around I got a self administered
white wash. Frankly, I was cold, wet, miserable and had
to pee most of the night.
On
Saturday I woke up disoriented and sore in every muscle
of my body; in other words, I was not looking forward to
getting up. The urge to pee finally forced me out of my
sleeping bag and out of the “warm” confines
of the cave. After consuming a chunky and cold bowl of oatmeal
and downing an ice cold Redbull, I was ready for the day
ahead.
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We
spent most of Saturday digging avalanche pits, searching
for buried transceivers and holding snow shovel Olympic
races on the slopes of Stevens Peak. The races consisted
of sitting on the shovel blade and rocketing down the slope,
mostly out of control! In the afternoon, my cave clan and
I spent an hour or so making renovations to our home. We
smoothed the ceiling out and made flatter sleeping platforms.
Saturday evening we had more time to relax. When the nearly
full moon crested over the ridge, we already had gourmet
meals brewing for dinner. Wonderful smells surrounded the
small valley where we camped and you could easily identify
the location of the caves by the orange glows radiating
from the hillside.
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Down
the Rabbit-Hole, Alice! |
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The
next morning, I had a lot of time to lie there and appreciate
the beauty of the cave, considering I didn’t sleep
much the night before. As the sun came up I lay in my sleeping
bag with only my cold nose sticking out. The blue glow of
the sun radiating through the 5’ thick walls of the
cave brought back memories of mountaineering and being inside
a glacier. The turquoise and blue colors changed hues depending
on the location of the sun. The silence in the cave was
peaceful yet eerie. The outside wind and snow could howl
and all you heard inside the cave was your own breath.
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On Sunday
morning, as soon as everyone was awake, we snow-shoed back to
the vans. When I got home I took a long hot shower and napped
for several hours. I was pleased that instead of waking up to
a wet sleeping bag and a ceiling of snow, a fat orange cat purred
over my face.
Pam Rogers
NRS Customer Service
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