Spend the Night

A few updates are due from last weekend's fourth annual camping trip to the mountains.  This year we borrowed the yurt again and on Saturday night I was especially thankful for the wood stove in said yurt.  Because on Saturday night the temperature dipped to 15 degrees in said mountains.  And I'm not talking Celsius here.  The STP is not really big on camping.  Over the three day weekend he spends 24 hours on the mountain and then he comes down and takes a shower and sleeps in his own bed and then he goes back up the mountain for another 24 hours.  Conveniently, this year the 15 degree (F) night was the night the STP was not on the mountain.  He did build me a pre-fire in the stove before he left.  As in all I had to do was strike a match and light the newspaper which would catch the cardboard on fire which would catch the kindling wood on fire, which would catch the pine logs on fire, which would heat the yurt and keep me warm. 
9:30 pm  I strike the match and the fire roars to life in the stove and I return to join the freezing souls huddled around the campfire.  They want to tell me the temperature but I put my fingers in my ears and say,  "Blah, blah, blah."  Someone says it is already below freezing.  I say "I wished you hadn't telled me that."
10:00pm  I say goodnight to the freezing campfire souls and head to my yurt.  I say I don't want to leave the fire unattended because I don't want the yurt to catch fire.  The nice lady in the Taj Mahal camper says if it does I can come in their camper with the heater.  I say,"I'm just going to set the thing on fire right now."  Instead I add a log to the fire and crawl into my sleeping bag.  The Goob is sleeping in his tent.  I pray he does not freeze to death.  That he has enough sense to come in out of the cold.
1:15am  I wake up, either because the fire has quit crackling or because my nose is cold.  I add some wood to the stove and coax the coals back into flames.  I do the math and decide that I have been asleep for three hours.  If the fire lasts three hours, then I will only have to get up once more before morning.  I crawl back into my sleeping bag.  My toes are cold, but I snuggle in and fall back asleep quickly.
The next time I wake up my nose is cold, my toes are too.  I miss the STP.  He is a great toewarmer. The fire is reduced to embers in the stove.   I check my watch.  It says 12:26am.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Either I am in a time warp or I did not pull my sweatshirt cuff back far enough at 11:15pm.  Either way, my night just got a lot longer.  I add some wood to the fire.  I pray that the STP has cut enough wood to last the whole night. I crawl back into my sleeping bag.  I try to contort my legs in such a way to put my cold toes against a warmer part of my body.  I have less than limited success.
1:48am  I am awake again.  My nose is cold, my toes are cold, the fire is non-existent, and I have to pee.  I try to decide if I am better off staying in my sleeping bag and conserving my body heat, or getting out to feed the fire.  I am not good at making decisions.  Especially when I have to pee.  I decide I will not go all the way to the outhouse.  I will go just around the side of the yurt.  I pray there are no bears out there.  I crawl out of the tent and see that the neighboring campers have left their porchlight on.  And that consequently the side of my tent is well lighted.  What are the chances that someone is looking out towards my yurt at 2:00am?  I mean, what are the chances.  Better than I care to take.  The moon has already set.  The sky is clear.  The stars are awesome.  When I get back from the outhouse I add wood to the coals and crawl back into bed. 
3:08am  My air mattress has significantly less volume at 15 degrees than at 75 degrees.  When I am in the middle it is not bad.  When I try to sit up on the end, I fall off onto the floor. I can't find my mittens in the tangled mess that is my sleeping bag.  I fix the fire.  I wish I had warmer socks.  I pray for warmer socks.  Big thick socks like the STP has.  Maybe wool socks.  Then I remember that the STP's bag is at the foot of the bed.  I (carefully) move to the foot of the bed and search the STP's duffle for socks.  SCORE.  I pull the STP's thick socks right over my own thin little socks.   I thank God for the socks, but I feel compelled to remind Him they are not wool.  He obviously answered my prayer before I got to the wool part. My toes and nose warm up and I am back to sleep.
4:35 am  The fire is out AGAIN.  I am low on little wood.  It takes me half an hour sitting on the tarp in front of the stove blowing on and reaarranging the coals to coax them back into flames.  I put a pan of water on top of the stove.  I rearrange my sleeping bag. Everything about me smells like smoke.   Miraculously I fall back asleep.  
6:00am  I have lived through the night and I have to pee again.  My big thick socked feet do not fit inside my shoes.  I head out to use the bathroom.  I don't know what the temperature is but I think it must be 20 below.  There is frost on everything.  Including the toilet seat.   When I return to the yurt I make myself a cup of hot chocolate, I feed the fire, I crawl back into the center of the bed.  If I lift my feet, my butt sinks into the mattress.  I put my pillow behind my back.  Like a recliner.  I pull the covers to my neck and cradle the big warm mug in my hands. I would have taken a picture, but the camera was out of reach and battery power.
 I am so proud of myself.  Totally convinced that if I had a walled tent with a stove, cut firewood, a flashlight, extra clothing, and a mug of hot chocolate that I could survive a night alone in the wilderness. 
8:47am  I go the Goob's tent.  I say. "Are you alive in there?"  He was.