Ghosts 1 : Mike 0

Damn that’s good coffee, but I digress. So this past Friday two friends and I headed west, bound for the snowy slopes of Aspen. Not to ski of course, that would have been crazy. No, we were going on a hut trip.

I have long dreamed of doing a hut to hut trip in Europe, and so when I heard about a system of huts in my new back yard I knew this was something I needed to try. When (3) spots opened up in a hut this past weekend, my friends and I jumped at the chance. We headed out toward Aspen relatively early, and by noon we were at the trailhead. Rumor had it that the hut was about 6 miles in, so without further ado we shouldered our packs and began to hike. It was a beautiful day, we could not have asked for better. The sun was shining brightly and the air was crisp but not too cold. Before long I found myself stripping layers and hiking without a coat – a far cry from the freezing cold winter temperatures I was expecting. After a relatively flat and well traveled mile we donned our snowshoes and began the trek in earnest. From this point on we were climbing – total elevation gain was 2,590 feet from trailhead to hut. The day progressed and so did we, and as the sun began to set we found ourselves high in the mountains by a frozen, snow-covered lake. This was wonderful news, as according to our map the hut was “just around the bend” overlooking the lake. Dreaming of dinner (and the multiple bottles of wine we packed in) we continue, sure that we will come across the hut at any second. The trail leads away from the lake, but it will curve back right? We continue. The sun is gone, time to break out the head lamps. We continue. The trail keeps climbing – higher and further from the lake with every step. Consult the map, and once again see the well marked hut positioned next to the lake. We’re not near the lake, we’re in the woods. Consider making a lake, but after much discussion decided “if you build it they will come” did not apply in this particular situation. We resolve to return to the (pre-existing) lake on the assumption that due to the fading light we must have missed seeing the cabin the first time around. Unfortunately this does not work – the cabin is not there. Stare at the map some more and mentally retrace our steps. Yup, the elevation gain proceeding the lake exactly matched the contour lines on the map, we are where we think we are. Probably. At this point our faith in the map is fading faster then an orangutan at a Billy Joel concert, but we eventually identify an offshoot trail that may lead to the hut. We retrace our steps and find the trail, but it’s obvious from the lack of footprints that this is not the well traveled trail that leads to the hut. It’s dark, our map is a filthy liar and when I listen to the wind I swear I can hear a voice chanting “kill kill kill kill”. We make the only sensible decision and decide to return to our car. With our Cliff Bar supply dwindling odds are good that we’ll be forced to resort to cannibalism at any second, so I take a spot at the back of the line where I can keep an eye on the others. From this point on things progress smoothly - the return trip was primarily downhill and we made good time back to the car. The hotel that we spent the night in was well appointed, and we had blueberry pancakes for breakfast.

I’d like to take a second to praise the two friends who joined me on this little adventure. In total we ended up backpacking for upwards of ten hours, and at no time did anyone lose hope or focus. That was ten solid hours of backpacking too – with the exception of one 15 minute dinner break on the way back to the car we really did not stop at all. Options were analyzed based on the information we had available to us, and decisions were made rationally. If I had it to do over again under the same exact circumstances I can honestly say that I would have done exactly the same thing. I would not hesitate to go into the woods with these people again.

Okay I know what you’re thinking – their story makes sense but something still just doesn’t add up. These people are experienced woodsmen, how could this happen? I agree. I mean I own wicking base layers and a windproof fleece. I carry my wine in a Nalgene bottle. I have two compasses and a shiny whistle. How could we possibly lose our way? Luckily I had a lot of time to think about this on the return trip to the car, and I now know what happened. None of us had actually met the others staying at the cabin that weekend, we just exchanged a few emails prior to the trip. Now I haven’t fully investigated this yet, but here’s my theory: The cabin burned down 10 years ago and was never rebuilt. Bill, Susie, Joe and Frita (names changed to protect the undead), the very people we had been emailing prior to the trip, all perished in the 1996 fire. That’s right, they were ghosts – spirits that had attached themselves to the remains of the cabin and were unable to leave this realm. When you think about it this is really the only explanation that makes sense. Now that I know the truth a part of me wishes that we had pushed on to find the remains of the cabin so that we could have done our part to help these lost spirits find peace. Alas it was not meant to be, but at least I am able to learn from the experience. The next time that I venture out into the wilderness I will make sure to include a small (lexan) vial of holy water in my pack. Because when you get right down to it, survival in the wilderness is really about being prepared.