My first concern as I packed for my trip down the Middle Fork of the Salmon River was how I was to remain warm. I packed fleece-lined pants, fleece, fleece tops, raingear, long underwear, gloves, hats, fleece socks, and a wetsuit. As you may recall, I was just getting over a really bad cold (read: I still had it) and the last thing in the world I wanted was to be cold and wet in a tent for a week straight,
Unfortunately, the first thing I discovered when I got off the plane in Boise was that, a lot of the time, people on white water rafting trips in June in Idaho are cold and wet in a tent for a week straight. During one group’s trip the week before, it had been snowing.
Crap. Crap crap crappity crap.
After a night in relatively temperate Boise, we drove out to Stanley, pop. 100, where the biggest claim to fame is the regular honor of being the national “low” — as in, the location of the lowest recorded temperature in the nation. Not upper Alaska. Idaho.
As soon as that big yellow sun went down, we knew it. Even in fleece, fleece lined fleece and fleece lined nylon space-age fleece, my mother and I began shivering. I grew up in Florida. When it comes to cold weather, I’m a wimp. I admit it. I’m a WIMP. (My mother grew up on a mountain in Pennsylvania. I don’t knwo what her excuse is, other than that her blood has thinned from so many years in the sunshine state). Anything below seventy is wool-sweater time for me. (Conversely, I’m wild about humid mid-nineties. Everyone is telling me I’m in for a wretched summer in D.C. I can’t wait.) Anyway, I hope I’ve established how much I did not want to be cold. I was raised hot. I was sick. I was going to do whatever was necessary to stay warm.
Even become a muppet.
As soon as we could excuse ourselves from the intro meeting with the rest of our group, my mother and I proceeded to raid one of Stanley’s (population 100, mind you) TWO outdoor stores. We bought more fleece, thicker fleece, more technologically advanced fleece, fleece that probably never remembered being a Dasani bottle, as it had since become so fluffy and wooly and thick that it probably had an implanted memory of being torn from the hide of a particularly poofy creation of Mr. Jim Henson.
Take for instance, the lovely number I’m wearing above. Is it form fitting? No. Skin bearing? uh-uh (I’ll leave that for the next photo). At all attractive? Not so much. But did it keep me warm? Hell yeah, it was windproof, too. Did it make me want to break out in “Cookie, cookie,” and start teaching little children the advantages of a well-balanced diet? I must admit it did.
Sorry, folks. But if a muppet must die so I do not relapse, I think children might have too much sugar in their diets as is.
I was *so* warm in that thing.
June 26th, 2005 at 2:41 am
Are you insane, woman??? Why would you put yourself through that??? What were you thinking? What was your mother thinking??? And you with a cold.
California Girl
June 26th, 2005 at 7:42 am
Gore-Tex. Never leave home with it.
Shan (who hibernates if it’s -above- seventy degrees)
June 26th, 2005 at 6:22 pm
I would love to see more pics! This is such fun reading about your trip. Share, share!!
June 26th, 2005 at 8:03 pm
And you went white-water rafting…why? There is no need for fleece at Saks.
June 27th, 2005 at 9:02 am
Actually sounds like ti would be a fun trip …. in AUGUST!
teri from Oregon
June 27th, 2005 at 9:42 am
Well, we planned and paid for the trip 10 months ago, so we didn’t want to cancel at the last minute because of a cold. We’re tough wimps. And yes, Shannon, I’m all about the Gore-Tex. I will be sharing more stories, but I’ve been having computer problems at home (stupid cable monopolies). Julie, I think I must point out that all the beauties of Sak’s do not equal the sheer majesty of the Sawtooth Mountains. It was a great trip (even in June, TJ!)