Here's another: Camping.
That's the main takeaway from a recent trip to Lassen Volcanic National Park by Mrs. Brad and me.
We decided to camp at Lassen for the first time since our sons were in elementary school. We would again stay at the ominously named Summit Lake campground, but global cooling obviously hit the region since our last trip.
How else do you explain mid-July nights that prompt whimpering?
Yes. Whimpering. You'll see.
First, the great part. Lassen Park – east of Redding, in northeastern California – is spectacular. It's one of our state's hidden treasures, a 106,000-acre park with geysers, Lassen Peak (10,500 feet!), isolated lakes and more than 150 miles of hiking paths.
It's a fantastic place to camp and relax. Until night. Then, it's a fantastic place to freeze.
Mrs. Brad and I arrived on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, with the temperature around 75. Of course, our campground was 7,000 feet above sea level.
Of course, we saw snow (in July!) in the park.
Of course, we knew it would be chilly at night.
Of course, we underestimated it.
We set up camp. We walked around the campground. We ate dinner. We built a fire. We tried to avoid getting smoke in our eyes. We went to bed at about 9:30 p.m., after watching the sky fill with stars.
As we crawled into our sleeping bags, we knew it would be chilly: The weather app on my phone told me so. We wore hoodies and put an extra blanket over our 30-year-old department-store sleeping bags. Good enough, right?
Wrong.
It was cold. It was uncomfortable. Our pillows felt like they were filled with sand (does pillow stuffing freeze?). I struggled to fall asleep and so did Mrs. Brad. After several hours, knowing the sun would soon come up, I checked my watch.
It was 11:30 p.m. Oh, no.
It got colder. I slept. I woke up. I shivered. I rolled over. I grabbed a coat and used it as an extra blanket. I slept. I woke up. I checked my watch. It was 12:15 a.m., 45 minutes after the last time I checked.
The endless night continued. Every once in a while, Mrs. Brad and I were awake at the same time and spoke. Through chattering teeth. We commiserated.
Finally, morning. Finally, sun. I turned on our car and it was 41 degrees. It felt colder.
Soon, though, it was a glorious day, perfect for a hike (where we saw more snow!), relaxing, reading, dinner, fire, stars, bedtime.
Night No. 2 was different. I wore my big jacket to bed. I wore jeans. I wrapped a blanket around me, like a mummy. I was prepared for an endless night of cold. So was Mrs. Brad.
This time, I slept until 1 a.m. The cold only woke me four or five times the rest of the night. Mrs. Brad? Not so good. The next morning – after I got up at 6 a.m. and paced around for an hour, looking for the first patch of sun – she awoke and told me she was miserable.
How miserable?
"I woke up during the night and could hear myself whimpering."
That, thankfully, was our last night before continuing to a hotel, which had a heater, air conditioning, shower and a bed. Paradise.
We love Lassen and would do it again. But next time, we'll go in the summer when it's . . . oh, never mind. We went in July!
Perhaps it's time to update our sleeping bags.
Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.
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