By Elliot
When we awoke this morning, it wasn’t raining, though we knew rain was coming. The hut was so cold that our breaths were fogging up.
Over breakfast, with the rain starting up, we discussed what our plan for the day was. The conclusion: we didn’t know. Should we continue along the trail, turn around and head out, or stay put for another day?
With the rain intensifying, we decided to crawl back into our sleeping bags and wait to see if the weather improved.
The weather got worse. The rain turned to wet snow. But we were having a great time, warmly ensconced in our sleeping bags, cuddling for extra warmth, and watching the drama of the weather unfold through the window. We decided to stay put. There was no point in venturing further along, given Ruth’s shoes looking like they would fall apart at any moment, and the weather looking miserable. Heading out to the road, which would have been a 3-4 hour walk, was also ruled out. Again, the walk would have been miserable, and this would have been coupled with an unknown amount of time spent in the very cold rain standing next to the highway, trying to hitch to warmer, dryer climes.
So we remained in the hut for the day, happy with our decision. But there is a limit to how much solitude you can get in a large hut on a popular trail, and our cabin calm was soon to be shattered.
Starting around noon there were some duos of trampers who stopped by to chat and warm up on the way to the next hut. I loved this: people coming by and providing entertainment.
But then, a group of six, a tramping club, arrived at the hut with plans to stay here. They commandeered the area around the table, made disparaging comments about the lack of fire and firewood and generally made themselves at home. We were relegated to our bunks in the corner.
From then on, more and more people arrived in the hut, until the hut was beyond capacity. The mattress next to mine was occupied by two people. And there are several tents outside, whose residents were cooking in the hut as well.
I wish I could have felt friendly. I hope I came off as friendly. But the conversations the people were having have not been interesting to me for months. They talked about tramping gear and backpacking food. The merits of boots over trail runners. Maybe the biases in these conversations were different, but they were essentially the same conversations that have played out among TAs before.
I longed for the quiet of the morning, when we laid in our sleeping bags, cuddling for warmth, staring out the window at the mountains and creek, and listening to the rain hitting the roof above us with force.