Hell Hath No Fury: The Stark Beauty, Solitude, and Surprises of Hells Canyon

In Backpacking   |   Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,   |   Leave a comment

By Michael Lanza

Pfft…pfft.

The sound barely registers inside the warm cocoon of my sleeping bag. It’s different—softer—than the anesthetic patter of rain that lulled me to sleep hours ago. Working slowly, like a cranky old PC, my brain powers up to identify the source: snow. In April.

I crack an eyelid to check for daylight. The tent is intensely dark, like the recesses of a cave. I shut down for a few more hours of deep unconsciousness, the gentle brushing of snowflakes on my nylon roof as effective a narcotic as the rain.

This story is premium content. Please log in or subscribe for full access to my blog.

Get My Free Email Newsletter

Enter your email address for updates about new stories, gear reviews, and expert tips!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: