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Local columnist
Cassandra, our two dogs and I drove six hours northwest from Clovis to camp near Lake Isabel in Colorado.
We were excited to smell the quaking Aspen and blue spruce trees.
Cassandra assumed the temperature would be comfortable in late spring. And she confirmed this by checking the weather report for Rye, the town near San Isabel National Forest.
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But we didn’t know Rye was at 6,800 feet elevation; our campsite was closer to 9,000 feet.
The green pastures of Rye slowly morphed into snow as we drove up the winding highway. Every few hundred feet, the temperature on the car dash subtracted a degree.
It was 45 degrees when we pulled into the campsite. We erected our tent and set about building a fire.
But the wood we gathered was too “green” and wouldn’t stay lit unless we persistently fanned the flame, much like a dysfunctional young relationship.
We scarfed down our lukewarm hotdogs, baked potatoes, and smores before retreating to the warmth of our sleeping bags.
The nighttime temperature — which sank to 30 degrees — tried its best to chase us to the car and back to Clovis.
“We should have stayed in one of the cabins,” I said to Cassandra. She thought I was joking; I kind of was, but there’s always a hint of truth in every joke.
Even our puffy white American Eskimo was restless, having grown accustomed to sleeping on our tempurpedic mattress at home. I empathized with his plight.
The four of us cuddled and used each other for warmth throughout the night.
When we woke in the early-morning dim the scene around us looked like a Bob Ross painting, happy little trees and all. We ate sausage burritos with salsa and drank steaming cups of coffee.
The snow-capped mountains were shedding their winter coat; we listened to a bubbling brook babble with frigid water; three magpies chased each other from one branch to the other; and the sun reflected a passing cloud on the glassy lake top.
You never notice how loud daily life is, and how noisy nature can be, until you’re in the middle of nowhere.
Kitsana Dounglomchan, an 11-year Air Force veteran, writes about his life and times for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: