A writer for the Rocky Mountain News recounts an overnighter gone wrong in just about every way possible.
4 a.m.: I’ve looked at my watch six times by now, waking every hour or so to lie there, cold, slightly damp, unable to find a comfortable position. I listen to the dogs snore and the creek roar. Finally, I hear a bird sing. It’s almost dawn. I touch the wall of the tent and icy water rains down on my head. I can see my breath, and I know that the warmth of the sun is still hours away. I lie there, trying in vain to identify birds by their songs and guessing whether the creek has risen.
Checking the watch every hour: yep, exactly like all my camp-outs .
There’s nothing on earth like waking up with the forest and looking upon that purple sky just before the sun shows up. For me, though, it’d be just as well if I tried to stay up all night, waiting for dawn. Maybe the will to stay up would cause me to sleep. Heck, if it brings sleep, I’m down with it.