The wind bit mercilously at the tips of my fingers as I pulled the glove from my hand and tilted my wrist towards the light from the headlamp. It was almost midnight. The cars were parked three miles from where I stood and it had taken roughly six hours to get as far as we had. Impending doom sat listless at the back of my thoughts, waiting for the right time to show it's face. Just under three miles, in six hours. We had not made good time.

I kicked my snowshoes together to dust off the snow and reached down to pat the top of my dog Brody's head. He sat whimpering beside me, barely covered with his dog booties buried deep in the snow. He was shivering. We both had had it.

I glance to my right, resting against the nearest tree sat my best friend. Obviously worn, and noticeably reluctant to move forward. He managed a smile, one that I could barely see in the moonlight.

"How do you feel?" I asked Tim. Worried that he was worse off than I was. I could hear his breathing, it was labored and shallow. From our years together I could tell he was hurting by the lack of friendly conversation. This wasnt the first time we had gotten in over our heads on a backpacking trip, and I was sure it wouldnt be the last.

"I am okay" he lies.

"Maybe we should make camp" I tell him, hoping to find wood for a fire, and a snow dune large enough to carve the cave into. It wouldn't be easy work, after six hours of trudging through deep snow in the middle of the Rocky Mountain National Forest, digging a snow cave large enough for the three of us was going to be one of the most difficult things I would ever attempt.

He slides down the trunk of the tree and harumphs into the snow.

"I was hoping you would say that." he murmurs after a few minutes.

I haul my pack off of my back. Its the heaviest it has ever been. I think back to the hours of packing the night before. We had teased and played while packing all of our best gear. He agreed to carry all the climbing equipment since my pack weighed in at a mind-blowing 62lbs. Roughly half of my body weight. It hurt to put on, until it was fastened tightly to my back, the weight pushing my shoulders slightly forward and giving me just enough top weight to feel a little pressure and keep my feet moving steadily forward.

I felt good last night, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fireplace at the snow lodge. We had been planning this trip for a long time and we were very prepared. We told stories and shared laughs until the fire died down and sleep became our priority.

The snow lodge felt millions of miles away.

We were alone. The three of us. We hadnt made it all the way to the frozen lake that was our intended destination, the going was slower than we expected. Our lungs burned and turned our ribs to fire. Pain raced down my legs, focusing badly right below the scar from where I had torn my ACL a few years prior. I grimaced as I stretched my arms. I pull the flannel blanket from the top of my pack and lay it out on top of the snow. It wasnt the best place for a rest, but Brody needed it badly. His short dark hair was matted with snow and I could tell he was hurting. I help him lay down and place his water dish in front of him. I would fill it slowly, since drinking too much at once would surely make him sick.

He lapped at the bowl before I even opened up my nalgene bottle to pour the water in. After a few tablespoons of water were gone, he whined for more. I stroked the top of his head, assuring him that everything would be fine.



Camp was made in relative silence. Unloading the whisperlight stove proved futile. We were too high on the mountain for white gas to work properly. We couldnt get enough pressure in the tiny stove for it to light. I thanked the stars for Tim's decision to bring a second stove. He lit his stove and immediately started making a pot of tea.

I scoped the area, feeling almost weightless with the sixty pounds relieved from my aching back. I found a dune, much larger than I expected. After twenty minutes or so I found the perfect spot for our door. I trudged back to Tim and the dog with my arms full of firewood. It was frozen, but with the white gas we could make it work.

I throw the pile of sticks down and dug out my camp shovel. The next two hours were painful. It took all of my strength, and some that I did not know I had, to keep digging the hole in which to sleep. Tim worked tirelessly, but without conversation. He dug quietly, filling a five gallon bucket we had brought along, and handing it to me at the door of the snow cave. I dumped the bucket when it was full and brought it back to the mouth of the cave where he would refill it all over again. It became methodical work. Shovel shovel shovel, dump, crawl. repeat.

When the room was large enough for all of us to spread out or bags, we took the ski poles and popped holes in the ceiling. A key to surviving a night in a snow cave. I worried about carbon monixide buildup and poked a few extra holes near the back of the cave. After that, we built shelves into the side where we could safely put candles and a flashlight within arms reach. The candles would provide light and a tiny amount of heat and proved to be one of the best ideas of the trip.

I unrolled my moon bag, thankful I had chosen the forty below zero bag, knowing that the windchill had reached fifty below zero the night before we left. I layed the bag atop a mat, it didnt seem to be enough to keep me warm, but this wasnt my first time in the depths of a snow cave.

Tim followed my lead, and by the time we had all of our gear packed into the cave he was back to being himself. He teased the dog as he lay whimpering at the foot of my bag. Brody was a strong 110 lb rottweiler. He could win any fight and was riddled with muscles. In the light thrown glimmering against the white walls, he looked weak. This is the longest he had gone, the most trying of trips, and he had held up relatively well.

We talked for a few more minutes when I glanced down at my watch again. It was nearly three thirty. We had to sleep. I climbed into my bag, being careful to remove every single piece of clothing I had worn that day and replace it with the fresh pair of long johns I had hidden deep inside my bag. I had only been foolish enough to sleep in my clothing once before, and I woke the next morning after the sweat from the previous day had frozen my skin to my clothes. I shivered for a few minutes laying naked in my moonbag, praying for the material to warm to my body temperature. I could hear Tim's teeth chattering.

When I blinked in the darkness waiting for sleep to overtake me, I never knew what hell would come the following day.



**************************************************************************************

I opened my eyes suddenly, to the sound of the wind howling outside the snow cave. I blinked in the bright light and felt a sudden pang of guilt as I realized I had been sleeping for some time. Tim would surely be outside with brody, hopefully making breakfast. I closed my eyes and stretched my stiff limbs. It wasn't until I tried to move that I realized I had been curled tightly into the fetal position, my feet stiff as a board. My head was heavier than I remember it ever being and I tried to shake the exhaustion that hung like cobwebs behind my eyes. I roll my head to the side and put forth as much effort as I could to lift my watch to my face. 10:15. I had slept five hours past daybreak an unusual and troublesome fact that at the time seemed trivial.

I rolled over onto my back. The ceiling feeling lower than it had the night before. I reach down to search for the walkie talkie that would link me to my camp mate in the instance that we were separated. I pictured the potato mash that preceeded Tim's reputation, and had accompanied us on every single trip we had ever had together. With the walkie talkie clutched in my hand, I promptly fell into a dead sleep.



I woke again, but this time when I opened my eyes it took two or three minutes for them to adjust. The joints that were stiff before, had now become leaden and impossible to move. I cringed as stars danced above me, and my head swirled in the light. I focused on my breathing, as long as I was able to breath slowly, I knew I would be okay. I mustered the strength I felt after taking a few deep, deliberate breaths and pulled my body up to a sitting position. My head swam. The small icey room around me spun in alternating directions. I passed out for the first time that day.



I heard Tim's voice he sounded as if he was half a mile away. My ear felt cold and my stomach sick. I registered all of these things before opening my eyes. Tim was kneeling next to me, his tight masculine face covering my entire view. His eyes were frantic and he looked unsure. My ear was cold from Brody licking the side of my face in consternation the way he had, years before after I had been on the receiving end of a fly ball and he had been the first thing I saw when I awoke from the concussion.. He showed concern whenever I was sick, and wouldn't dare leave my side. Now, he stood near Tim as they both brought me back from wherever my mind had gone.



Tim's face was clear and he seemed upset. I felt the incessant shake and his hands tightly clamped on my shoulders. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to go deep into the fluffy down of my bag and drift back into the dreams that seemed so important only moments before. Tim wouldn't stop and I heard him shouting my name. He seemed so far away but the droplets of spit that sprayed into my face said otherwise. I felt like I was floating and somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a voice telling me to listen. "You must wake up" it said. "You must break camp and get moving."

I hear my sleeping bag unzipping and a cold rush of air on my body. It stuns me and I scream out suddenly. Everything comes quickly into view and for a single moment I have fear, pointing like an arrow at the base of my spine.



"what time is it?" I ask, forcing myself to speak. I can see confusion in his face and panic, for a moment I think that he is sick. I try again.

"Tim, What time is it?"



Hysteria took him in it's clutches and he reared his hand far behind him and brought his palm straight across my face. I bit down hard on my cheek as he made contact and the inside of my mouth filled with blood. I didn't understand the act, I felt confused and angry, I wanted to swing my arms in defense and fight back. I simply couldnt find the power to do so. I shook the heat spreading across my face and sense returned.



"I can't understand you" He screams into my face. I had never seen him so outwardly upset. This was the boy who had calmly held me on a belay after I had fallen twenty feet and broken my arm only to find myself hopelessly stuck on a rock face. The guy who had silently sewn a cut on the face of a friend who ran headlong into a jagged tree branch with dental floss and a needle held momentarily over the fire to be santized. If He was saying that he couldn't understand me, he couldn't understand me.



I pulled the sleeping bag shut around me and put my head between my legs. I knew one of the first signs of hypothermia was slurring speech and aggression. I felt a sense of dread come creeping in. I could understand him. His words were clear and precise.



I was the one slurring my speech.



*************************************************************************************

I focused my breathing, deep in and deep out. It would not do anyone any good to freak out and hyperventilate. The voice I found in the back of my head started up again. "You need to move, get up and get out." it told me. There was no room for argument.



I turned to face Tim who had retreated to the far corner of our snow cave. His face was red and puffy and it looked as if he had been crying. He sat with his eyes focused intently on me, clutching the first aid kit in his hands.



"What time is it?" I squeaked out, finding my throat dry and numb. At the sound of my voice, Tim's face blanched white as if he hadnt expected to understand me. He fumbled for his watch.



"It's Five thirty-one" He says, fear transfering from him to me as I realized the seriousness of our situation.

My mental check list followed. Half past five. That means I had been sleeping for roughly fourteen hours. Half past five, that leaves us with half an hour of daylight, not nearly enough time to even pack our gear if we needed to leave. A walk out in the conditions I had been hearing outside would be suicide.



"I think you are sick." He says, still clutching the school bus yellow first aid kit. "You have been sleeping a really long time." his voice quivered unexpectedly and I cringed as a tear rolled down his left cheek. Brody whined and scooted closer to me, putting his head into my lap.



"I need water." I tell him. He climbs out of the snow cave and I can hear him fussing with the camp stove. He curses quietly and talks to himself. Something about knowing this was a bad idea, why hadnt we told more people where we were, how was he going to get me out?



I compose myself, pulling my hair back into a pony tail and pulling on the pants I had lain nearby so many hours before. I felt as if I were swimming in concrete, every movement had to be slow and deliberate. I wasted fifteen minutes getting dressed and did my best to stumble towards the fire pit. I felt groggy and weak, as if I was constantly trying to go faster than my body wanted to move.



I found that Tim had already unpacked our food and had set everything out to leave camp without the weight of all the supplies we had brought. He knew, as I did, without speaking, that we needed to get back down the mountain and quickly. To stay another night in the snow cave, while comfortable, would prove fatal in the condition we were in.



I feel my heart pounding in my chest and worry that I only have a few hours of lucidity left. I had seen the blockbusters and had read the stories of terrible tragedy at high altitudes. I knew all too well the very real danger in being so removed from medical help once hypothermia kicked in.

I shivered in the wind, pulling my coat tighter around my body. My face was flushed and felt warm. The skin on my chest was blotchy, bright red in spots and dead white in others. My concern grew with each moment.



Tim sat down beside me and handed me a cup of tea. I knew at that moment that if had he not been there, willing to wake me up at any cost, I might not have woken up at all. I touched my glove to my face, the place where he had slapped me stung sharply under the gentle pressure. I grimaced.



"I am sorry." he said, wanting to make everything okay. "I didnt know how else to wake you up."



It was his only option, and I knew that the guilt of having to hit me would stick with him for some time. We had been best friends since childhood and he had always protected me. He had let me play all the rowdy games during recess and would gaurd me closely from the other boys who just didnt know how rough they were being. He let me be the tough tomboy, but would retaliate swiftly against anyone who attempted to tackle me. I knew that he would deal with the remorse from having to strike me and I wanted to ease his conscience.



"You had to." I say back at him, knowing that once we made our way down the mountain, we would be able to hash it out more clearly. "Get up now, get moving" the voice replayed in my head, "You are wasting time."



"You are right" I say outloud, thinking Tim had heard the inner voice as well. "Lets break"

I stand to my feet, stamping my feet hard on the frozen ground in order to get the blood pumping through my body. A seering pain pulsed at the back of my eyes. I felt sick. Tim grabbed my hand and brought me back before I slipped into another faint. We shared a panicked look and immediately moved into action.



Slipping my pack onto my back was much easier than it had been the previous day. Tim had removed almost everything from it, filling it with small items from his own pack and only the most essential items from mine. His pack was stuffed full, I could see the sleeping bag that had kept me warm strapped precariously to the top of his pack. I mouthed a silent prayer.



I stood as he knelt at my feet, lacing on my snow shoes and tucking my snow pants into the gaitors I had bought specifically for this trip. I felt like a child waiting for their parents outstretched hand to guide them across the busy street. He stood, placing his hands on my shoulders and squeezing down tight.



"Keep moving" He says. "Whatever you do, keep your blood pumping."



I stepped out, one uneasy foot after another. I see the trailhead that we had marked by attaching a small plastic tag to an overgrown aspen tree jutting over the path. I pat my left leg and immediately brody is next to me. His paws are covered with booties and he carried his own food and water on a sack on his back. The setup reminded me of the trip I took with my mother down to mexico where we had ridden horses right next to a pack mule weighted down with giant handwoven rugs. Brody didnt mind the get up though, and seemed strong enough to handle his own way.



I tentatively put my left foot in front of my right, a tradition I had, to start with my left foot on any ground I felt unsafe about. I tuck two gloved fingers under brodys collar, another tradition I had when I wanted my most trustworthy companion close to my side. He stares up at me and together we take another step.



A mile in and it was nearly nine thirty. I had lost track of time and had fainted at least once, waking only to find Tim hunched over me again with his hands ungloved squeezing my face until I woke. I had left the five gallon bucket, my climbing shoes, 150ft of nylon rope, my camp stove, any clothing that wasnt already on me, and all of the food I had brought on the trip, back at camp. My pack was nearly empty and yet it weighted me down unbearably.



My muscles felt rigid with every step. I wasnt able to move like I should have been, and any progress I had made felt overbearing. I had started hallucinating somewhere around ten pm. I saw brody run off into the woods to my right and heard a vicious animal attack. I guessed it was a mountain lion, or a bear, though it would be much too late in the season for either. I heard it from somewhere deep inside and felt no emotion towards it. I could hear the animal large and hulking behind me. Taking step when I would take steps and following behind me just enough so that I could smell its blood matted fur.

I sang quietly, the song I would eventually sing my children to sleep with. My mind moved faster than my lips and I slurred my speech. Embarrassed I turn to find Tim.



My leg cramped tightly and I screamed out in the dark. I dropped to my knees bracing the injury with my hands. Pain blossomed bright red into my head and I lay down on the snow, sure that I would have to look into the face of an animal before my life blinked out.



**************************************************************************************



Brody brought me back with a single lick of his giant sticky tongue. The animal behind me was just a figment of my imagination. Brody walked a few paces behind me in his normal fashion, but my mind had become so sluggish and hot I was unable to turn around to see him.



The hours passed quietly, slipping by without much hesitation. My legs were jelly and felt cold beneath the layers of clothing that were essential in the Colorado weather. Tim had taken to walking directly beside me. His constant jabbering and asking if I was okay had become numbing. I focused intently on the clipping sound that my feet made with each step. The wind whipped my face into a hot pink, my nose ached, spreading fire onto my cheeks.



By 3 am I was able to see lights from the small town of Estes Park that lay quietly below. I felt invigorated, and the grogginess seemed to leave. With the sight of civilization I pressed on with more and more enthusiasm. I felt renewed, and stronger.



I stopped on the ridge with the best view of the city. I motioned for Tim to join me and I put my arms around him.



"Thank you" I say to him checking his reaction carefully to make sure that he understood me. He did, but said nothing. I cried, standing on the ridge in the pitch black darkness, staring at the lights of a city I thought I might never see again. I pulled the gloves off of my hands to wipe the tears from my face. My fingertips were black, and the pain that once coursed through them had dissapeared. Frostbite had taken hold of my hands and I worried that I may never regain full use of them.



Quickly I wipe my face and put the gloves back onto my hands. Tim is still standing in silence but has turned towards the trail. He is slumped ever so slightly and looks beaten. "One more time, get going."

the voice says in the back of my head. It was no longer the urging scared voice it had once been, it was now a matter-of-fact kind of voice. Telling me to quickly get off of the mountain. I listened, just as I had before.













I made it to the start of the Beirstadt trail head and from there, the cars were visible. The black pathfinder sat deep in the snow and way off to the side of the parking lot. There were no other cars, no one else was stupid enough to travel up to the mountains in this weather. We had overestimated ourselves and had nearly lost our lives for it. I half-ran to the latrine by the trailhead. I pulled my gloves off again once I had gotten out of the wind. I saw for the first time in more light than a headlamp that my finger were frostbitten. I cried quietly as I stood in the room alone. It smelled stale and dirty and the piece of reflective metal that double as a mirror was nearly frozen over. I wiped it clean with the arm of my coat.

I did not recognize the face in front of me. My nose was blackened, frost bitten and numb. My hair stuck out of my hat and my eyes seemed dull and barren. I looked worn, as if I was someone else. My tears subsided as I heard the pathfinder purr to life outside the door.

I throw my pack into the back seat and kick off my boots. My toes were pink and healthy, though very cold. I was grateful for that, at least. I waited patiently for the heat to work, and after prodding Brody to pee before getting in the car, Tim got behind the wheel to drive the two hours it would take us to get home. He spoke then, waiting for me to turn in his direction.

"We made it." He starts "I didnt think we were going to, but we made it."

"Thank you." I say again wishing I could really show him how much he had done for me.We stopped at the first open restaurant we saw, filling our bellies with soup and bread and hot coffee, thanking the weather gods that there was a denny's open at that hour. It nurtured both of us, and within hours my hypothermia became a distant memory. Color eventually returned to my fingertips, prompting an investment in some really great snow gloves and an almost nuerotic fear cold hands.

The Frostbite was mild enough to allow for my fingers to regain all their feeling and thankfully so as I am able to recall those few days with clarity enough to write them out today. I am grateful for the opportunity to use my hands to tell a story so close to my heart, that brought me so close to death.

To Tim *named changed to protect his identity*

You gave me the gift of life, you realized the classic symptoms of hypothermia and brought me out of a situation that may have killed me. You are stronger than I have ever given you credit for and I cherish our friendship to this very day, thank you for saving my life.