03.24.13 - 1:34 pm

i started a list of things i wanted to eat in a very specific order:
1. burger king: two hamburgers plain. medium fry. small chocolate shake. large water.
2. chipotle: double wrapped chicken burrito. white rice. black beans. chicken. little bit of pico. cheese. lettuce. large water. drop top beer.
3. outback: steak. medium rare. garlic mashed potatoes. side of grilled shrimp. french fries.
4. home cooked: pork chop. pasta. greek seasoned. pan fried asparagus. glass of red wine.

all of this would need to be consumed in as short of time as possible. preferably in one sitting.

DAY 1

the initial plan was to take on the rim counterclockwise, so that we would get the really hard elevation gains out of the way first and have a nice easy trail for the last few days. the ranger, knowing the weather conditions would deteriorate for us by the middle of the week suggested we go clockwise, so that we get all the views of the water while the weather is still clear and sunny. it ended up being a very good recommendation.

we arrived at the lake early in the morning. it was a brilliantly bright day. the lake was crystalized a deep blue surrounded by untouched snow and a few wandering dots of people taking pictures and tasting the air at 7600 feet. parking the izuzu trooper, mike and i removed our pulks at the lodge, now half consumed by snow this time of year. we attached poles to harnesses and harnesses to backpacks. we tried on our pulks for the first time and they pulled with such virgin ease that we believed this whole expedition was really going to work out as well as it did on paper. hiding our gear under a tree, we got dressed:
nylon-thin socks under regular socks sheathed by thick wool socks. thermal leggings and sleeved undershirt. green thread bare t shirt. hooded sweatshirt. turquoise water proof pants. striking aquamarine snow coat. gloves. beard.
we returned the izuzu down by the park headquarters, as the crow flies a mile or so down from the rim of the crater. we would need to hike back up to our gear and sleds with only a finger pointed heading. i tightened the straps to my snowshoes and stood up to take my first snow shoed step. and then another. and before i knew it mike was already telling me to go on ahead first across an avalanche zone. so that we both wouldn't die, naturally.
i took off my sweater. i didn't need the gloves. the weather was crippling in its perfection. travel was steady, but steep as we navigated from 6450' to 7100' on what felt like a vertical slope straight up. it didn't help we really had no idea where we were going, just an assured hunch.
it had been a very long time since my body had engaged in any sort of physical activity prior to this very moment. blood pushed its way into muscles dormant for years. my lungs suddenly had to become better at time management. we forged our own trail straight up and through pillars of trees to our gear and reached it with an appetite hungry for all the treats waiting in zip lock bags.
my pulk was a beautifully packed life support capsule. it was shaped like a miniature bathtub. everything in it would keep me alive for the next few days, and that fact became more sobering as those days wore on. four feet long and about fifteen inches tall.

my sled pack list:
thermal foam sleeping pad
thermal foam section for sitting
inflatable sleeping mat
sleeping bag
ten freeze dried dinners
apples
shovel
bright yellow jacket
water bottle
night time urine bottle

my backpack was filled with other necessities i imagined would be valuable assets to my expedition:
two pairs of underwear
extra pair of socks
additional pair of thermal undershirt and leggings
heat packs
zip lock bags of snack: pretzels, beef jerky, dried apricots, triscuits, energy bars

the snack was brief. the warm up was over. no, we couldn't go home. i secured the sled poles to my torso. i shifted my weight forward slightly, the poles tugged taut and the sled began to grind behind me. this was it.

this was the beginning of the next five days.

we followed the deep troughs of heavily worn snow shoe trails. we passed people taking pictures, cross country skiers and sight seers. the tug of the sled behind me was present, but not distracting. we were on level ground. packed snow. my legs were thrilled to be in use again. we passed a flock of red forest rangers skiing in the opposite direction. they made sure we had checked in, left contact information and asked how far we were going.

"all the way. all the way around."

they all chuckled amongst themselves. one told us we would be his heroes, "if we could do it."

this coy dare was very encouraging to mike. the sense of accomplishment was prematurely building already in myself. so we carried on. following the blend of steps before us that had paved a frosted road. the clean lines of skis paralleled our journey. we smiled as we passed people headed the back to their cars, their homes and televisions. everyone here smiled. everyone was happy to be just doing something at crater lake, let alone crater lake in february in the snow.

the lake was always in view. through trees. behind piles of rocks. or unobstructed. the water was a vast expanse of blue, entombed in white. half the lake was a hazed sheet of ice, with a glacial iceberg far off on the other side. the sky was clear with only a few whisps of cloud. the most impressive feature of this entire arctic landscape is the complete lack of sound. there are no airplanes. no police sirens. no hum of distant traffic. no birds. no cell phones.

i didn't know it at the time, but with every step i took an incremental spoonful of sand was filling up the atrophied hollows of my legs. by the time the skies shifted to pinks and golds each lift of my leg took an incredible amount of mental determination. an hour would go by, how far had we traveled? I'd ask.

1/4 of a mile.

The disparity between how far I thought we had traveled in that amount of time to what we were actually achieving was incredibly depressing. it was a tremendous amount of work moving through snow. there was no running. forced, measured walking. the snowshoes lifted as blocks of solid steel. the sled was an anchor worthy of some sailors tattoo. my body was running out of any sort of fuel. i had been awake since 3:45 that morning, and now as 6:30 was quickly coming there was only one priority it needed to accomplish: sleep.

when mike finally signaled that he was ready to make camp, i was already in my sleeping bag before the final tent pole was secured around me. with frozen fingers, mike boiled the water to make our dinner. my body was already shut down. there would be no assisting him. there would be no eating. i was probably still wearing my snow covered boots buried deep within my sleeping bag. i didn't care. he eventually would encourage me to eat, but i was asleep even before i took my first bite.

"the stars are incredible." mike marveled, his body half seated outside the tent. oh how i wanted to see them. there was just nothing left inside me. no motivation. no lure of beauty could rouse this incredible weight of full body fatigue.

it was 6:45 pm on a saturday night and i was asleep.