Weather Helmed

For those of you who know us, it will come as no surprise that Matt and I desperately needed to get up to the mountains (and snow!!) one last time before we became fully committed to boat life. Except for the anticipated brutal journey down the California coast to Mexico, we don’t anticipate seeing winter weather (or real mountains) for a very very long time. So, for Christmas and with great happiness, Matt gave to me and I gleefully accepted two nights up at the Dartmouth alumni cabin about an hour west of Tahoe. The DOCNC Cabin, as it’s called, is a rustic little cabin overlooking a beautiful tiny lake (totally snow covered this time!!) with a woodstove and fireplace, electricity, and running water, but a chemical toilet (ok, so not that rustic).

As has become the norm these days, we got up out of bed on Tuesday around 10:30am, didn’t leave the boat until 12:30 and, after running several mis-adventurous errands and getting lunch (yum Chipotle!), we eventually headed out of town around 2:30pm.  Matt sighed, speaking our thoughts aloud, “I had really looked forward to spending the whole day up at the cabin.”  Yeah, me too.  To prevent the day from being a total bummer, I smiled brightly and said, to both of us, “But, you know, we’ve got to just enjoy the journey!”  Matt grins, takes off his stinky shoes, and pulls out his book – “that’s right – it’s all about the journey.”

Three hours later, we are standing in line at the grocery store when I suddenly look at Matt – “Did you bring our headlamps?!”  His eyes open wide.  “Oh Sh*T!”   We take a minute to ask if Safeway carries headlamps, which, of course, they don’t, then just decide to find our way to the cabin in the dark.

This is a big deal because, as described in my previous post, when it comes to camping, we try to be especially organized.  We have bins and checklists, and have done it so many times that we just KNOW when we are missing something.  Headlamps are pretty crucial when tramping around in the snow in the dark or trying to find your way down really steep stairs to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  So, for us to forget our headlamps, it was kind of a big deal.

But, not as big a deal as us forgetting *well, just not asking* what the combination was to the lock on the cabin.

When we finally arrived at the cabin (about 1/3 mile away from the car), after spending 25 minutes post-holing through the snow, and momentarily getting off course, we unloaded our heavy backpacks on the cabin porch to realize we had no light to see the combination lock.  After thinking about it for a second, Matt turns to me – “Cell phone.”  So, we stand there in the cold for 10 minutes clicking our phones every 5 seconds, so as to maintain that steady glow with which Matt can decipher the lock.  The combination we have isn’t working.  We start calling people. (like I said, not that rustic.)  I call my mom and get a phone number off the cabin website, as I repeat the number, Matt dials.  Not home. Leave message. Get another number.  Dial. Not home. Leave message. Repeat.  Matt gets his dad on the phone to get some other numbers.  By now, we’ve left messages or talked to about 6 people, trying to find someone who might know what the combination is.  Meanwhile, I’m trying not to giggle – because this is just the perfect end to our ridiculously un-organized day.  Finally, I tell my mom, “Let’s just go down the list.”  Half an hour later, as Matt’s phone is breathing its last, we get the combination… they had changed it and we never would have guessed it.

In the cabin, we immediately go about the routine of turning on the water, hooking up the lights, starting the fire, etc, etc.  We settle in with our books and our tea and spend the remainder of the evening completely relaxed in the cabin’s cozy warmth.  Sometime in what felt like the middle of the night, we began to get tired and started thinking about going to bed.  Suddenly, I realize something important.  I look at Matt and just start laughing – “We forgot our sleeping bags.”

** These pictures are from a previous trip.  This time, guess what? we forgot our camera.