Cuyamaca Peak February 2013 Trip Report II Third Winter Camp © February 2013 Adam Helman

Note: Mouse-click images for enlargement.

Introduction

As noted in my October Cuyamaca Peak report I shall return to Denali in June. Not wishing to spend gasoline on another 1,000 mile journey to and from Flagstaff (for colder overnight temperatures), I am pursuing multiple trips to Cuyamaca Peak for both a review of winter camping methods and to snowshoe with sled and a full-size pack. For all of these desirables the peak's 6,512 foot summit and an area surrounding the campground parking lot, some 1,650 feet below, are deficient substitutes for colder venues - venues that sadly cost a lot more to reach. A tradeoff.

This is the season's fourth journey to Cuyamaca Peak, and the second one with sufficient snow at the campground elevation for a "real" snow camp. The forecast includes a 0% chance of precipitation (which translates to blue skies) and an overnight low of 26° F (-3° Celsius).

Trip Details

A few weeks ago I answered several questions with a personal interviewer while attending a local shopping mall about my level of satisfaction with what they offer, and whether it's a good idea to open yet another mall, nearby, where there is currently an open field. In return I received a five dollar discount card for Starbucks - without a time limit.

Sugar and caffeine

So the morning's treat comes at a Starbucks halfway along the 60 mile drive from home, enjoying a venti ("large") size java chip frappuccino to which I add milk powder for making it creamier still - with a medium-size dark chocolate chip cookie.

I arrive at 11 a.m., park alongside site 4 on the asphalt camp loop road, shovel snow for 30 minutes, and occupy that space. I am not eager to summit for yet a ninth time. Instead I concentrate on sledding and crevasse rescue practice. Hours later the campground manager arrives by golf cart, and, recalling my goal for next June is not surprised to see the erected tent. The campground use fee is never mentioned, and as with last time I manage to avoid the (rather large) thirty dollar fee.

Sled, pack, snowshoes and trekking poles

After changing into double plastic boots and erecting the tent I snowshoe with sled up-and-down the adjacent slope five consecutive times, choosing a slightly different route to get-in some sidehilling and going over six to twelve inch bumps created by hidden logs. Without a humungous load and on a gorgeous day with modest temperatures (50° F) it's actually a bit fun.

Crevasse rescue practice is complicated by snow depth insufficient to place a snow picket as anchor. Instead I locate a pair of embedded wood posts sticking vertically in the snow. However at some six or eight feet apart they are too widely separated to both use as slings will not reach that far.

Z-pulley system

Where's my chest harness sling? It was going to be pressed into service here ... it is not found. Instead I improvise by using my gear sling. Soon enough the Z-pulley is rigged, and, with my pack as "fallen climber" haul it horizontally to a huge, two-foot-thick log to create resistance as-if going over the crevasse's lip. It won't budge. Examining, my pack is stuck on the stump of a side-branch. Repositioning it solves the problem.

By 3 p.m. I am satisfied with progress, and place all relevant stuff inside the tent, having triaged items into a stuff sack for just items that only get used in the tent; dry clothing in a newly purchased sack that get swapped for damp clothing after activity, and a stuff sack for extra clothing used the next morning.

As with my previous efforts here,

I am trying to make winter camping exercise details something I am so used to
performing that it becomes automatic - like brushing one's teeth in the morning.

Around 5 p.m. I take the Nevada DeLorme Atlas, sit in the driver's seat, and do some route planning for a trip there in just over two months with Andy Martin, Bob Packard and perhaps Rick Hartman. Peanut butter is spread atop a rice cake one bite at a time and eaten.

Three Harry London chocolates and butterscotch pudding

With sundown near, around 5:30 p.m. I crank-up the stove and eat supper - shell noodles with a powdered cheddar cheese sauce plus a can of tuna fish. Extra parmesan cheese and Cajun spices add considerably to the flavor dimensions. It's all quite satisfying, and I dive into the tent for some twelve hours just after six.

Around 6:30 p.m. I become sleepy and nap for one hour in the bag, having slept very poorly the previous night - this happens too often for my own good. Then around a quarter of eight I have dessert including butterscotch pudding and a peanut butter chocolate truffle from "mini-Cozy" as shown in the photograph.

The Cuyamaca Peak south ridge as documented on DVD.

A pair of episodes about high altitude mountaineering ("Everest - Beyond the Limit") provides entertainment until just past 9:30 p.m., using my DVD player recently received as a Hanukkah gift from my parents. The more I see documentaries about that mountain the more I am convinced that its cost, inherent dangers and time are simply not for me. Denali will be my "Everest", nine thousand feet lower and at a fraction of the cost (yet still sizeable).

I recently purchased a new pair of booties to assess if they keep my toes warmer at night after having trouble in that regard last camping session. They cost eighty dollars, and I test their efficacy against my current pair by wearing one on either foot. Although this glorified slipper is marginally warmer, the main advantage is that it requires virtually no brushing-off of snow before tent use. Evidently there's some hydrophobic ("water hating") fabric on the base.

I have no problem with cold toes tonight using any of numerous permutations to keep them warm, including a hand warmer inside the left sock inside the "old" booty and a pair of socks for the right foot inside the "new" booty. Those socks, incidentally, are just for night use.

Ready to return.

Experimenting further, I find that minimizing the volume of my sleeping bag at its bottom is most efficacious - so much that only a single wool sock suffices for the right foot - and without a booty at all. This result is sensible, the amount of air heated by my feet (the only energy source) being less, allows it to become warmer than otherwise. One possible means of ensuring a small volume is shown in the photograph, having repurposed the sleep bag's stuff sack.

I manage to sleep by around 12:30 p.m., roughly when I'd be able to at home. The usual assortment of stuff lies inside my bag - inner rubber boots within a breathable shopping bag (so they don't freeze stiff overnight), a jacketed one-liter water bottle plus jacketed urine bottle. Smartphone and a tiny thermometer are in the bag at torso-level. The interior temperature is at least 70° F. (completely comfortable), while the tent's interior (outside the bag) measures 27° F.

I plan to arise at 6 a.m. after first light, the alarm chirping at 5:55 whence I begin the thankless set of chores to dress and deconstruct camp. These items are ingested - vitamin pills, aspirin, Diamox (in 'pretend' mode) and a pill of the amino acid lysine (antiviral, also not actually eaten). Anti-fogging chemical is applied to my eyeware, while also liberally using lip balm and sunscreen lotion.

The road to home.

Some marginally damp clothing (just the weight belt is truly damp), drying overnight near my sleeping bag's base are placed into the "swapped clothing" stuff sack, having worn the fresh, dry clothing overnight. The seat harness is put on before wearing a heavy outer pants layer that, with side-zippers, will be removed before moving out.

Damn plastic boots are again worn. I am not temped to eat breakfast and just want to get going. So I stuff all of those sacks and my sleeping bag into the backpack, remember my sled drying upside-down on the lunch table's long seat, break down the tent and then place everything back into the camper shell. The entire affair consumes 1.7 hours. I then carefully back-out of the campsite and use the (snow-free) asphalt road grid for exiting the campground, wearing plastic boots to see if they form a danger to safe driving.

They do not. However at the Park-and-Ride lot 12 miles later at the Interstate-8 onramp I remove all but my innermost layers and wear tennis shoes with cotton socks. Eight or nine miles later in Alpine I purchase hot chocolate with some added coffee at a convenience store.

Back home by around 10 a.m. I place out to dry many marginally damp items, my sleeping bag hanging from the shower doors, the tent atop railing that lead to the second floor unit, and much more.

Email is handled for 90 minutes, I take a half-hour nap, and around 2 p.m. eat a huge meal with roasted chicken and onions in a spicy Vindaloo sauce served with flour tortillas.

I cannot cited anything done "wrong" on this brief snow camping trip.