Finding a level campsite on warm south-facing slope for cold-weary backpackers

A friend was telling me about his winter backpacking trip sleeping in snow caves, and how comfortable it was.

He said it can actually get warm in the cave, up to 50 degrees with two sleeping in it, which can quickly turn in the problem as the snow cave begins to melt and you have dripping water on you all night. An excellent web site that explains all aspects of hard-core, tough snow and cold winter backpacking is http://www.sastrugi.com. (sastrugi is a type of wind-blown snow waves).

So far I havent mustered up the courage to go winter backpacking above snowline in the Rockies. (maybe because I am too fond of warm nights).

My preferred place for winter backpacking is to find a level area at the base of steep south-facing cliffs, which are heated by the low southern winter sun.. The spot I tend to return to each January or February is where a rounded ridge rises up to meet the granite cliffs. A level camping site has been created by the erosion of the cliffs onto the ridge, and is covered by a gorgeous woods of tall Ponderosa Pine and Douglas Fir.

The nights will usually be darn cold in February, but am hour after light the sun reflecting off those rocks warms the air and heats up your camp about the time I am finishing my coffee and biscuits.

I have heard it said the only real way to learn backpacking is to make mistakes and continually hone your skills until you have found the right techniques and weight that you are comfortable with. That is how I learned backpacking and am getting real good at it considering how many errors I have made over the years. (still have trouble keeping my weight to the right level, which my sore shoulders this morning remind me).

I am not shy about admitting my mistakes backpacking, thinking that it may help at least one person avoid the same. Also, I read an article recently that said it is important to embrace the changes aging brings with humor and self acceptance, which I guess is means I should laugh at the goofups that seem to be going along with my mind and body heading downhill at age fifty.

Here is a summary of my latest episode of being human:

The only problem with my favorite winter campsite up at the base of sun-warmed cliffs is that water is pretty tough to find. Fortunately it had snowed the day before I packed up there so some fresh patches of snow were still present the shade of the Ponderosa Pine and Douglas Fir trees. It tends to take a while to melt enough snow for a dinner, so I decided I would hike the steep half mile down to the stream to see if I could find an open spot in the ice for water.

When I got there I could hear the rush of the water below the ice, and jabbed around with my trekking pole and to my delight broke open a small hole to some running water. I had my two gallon plastic water bucket with me, and was thinking I could fill it and have enough water for my entire camping trip.

The problem was that the stream was only six inches deep where I broke the ice free. Try as I might I could only get about that depth of water into my bucket, and couldnt' enlarge the hole to any wider than about a foot across. I pressed down one edge, and tried to scoot the water into the bucket, and even cupped my hands to transfer water. After a minute of this I realized my hands would be near frozen before I got the bucket filled. Right then I was thinking how nice it would be to have one of my cooking pans I didn’t bring with me to transfer the water to my bucket.

I ended up heading back up the steep slope with only a small amount of water in my bucket and had to revert to melting snow on the stove to get enough water that evening.

I guarantee however that next time I head for water I will have with me a second container for dipping, and in the unlikely event you ever get the bright idea to hike a half mile down a steep slope, don’t make the same mistake I did.