So... After we got back to camp, we made the plan for the night. We'd sup, then as dark fell we'd hike back up to the cemetery. We'd already been there during the daylight hours, had seen where it was, and knew how to get back there. Simple, right? Indeed. So we cook up a couple cans of Busch's baked beans, and supplemented that with some cold corn bread I'd baked the night before and stowed away in the cooler. The beans got hot enough with our stove, and we ate the cornbread cold, but after the day we'd had, we were quite pleased with dinner. Night was falling, and so was the temperature. When darkness was finally upon us, we grabbed a flashlight each, as well as a lantern for myself and the camera gear for our ghost hunting activities.
Just prior to the hike back down, before we saw the carcass/skeleton of the horse, I'd been able to see the map of the area, since we'd only had a signal at the cemetery. I'd noted a patch going from the road just prior to our mudbog fiasco up to another portion of the NF-401. I advised my buddy there about it, and we trekked up it, lantern shining, flashlight lightin' our way. I noted a few spots of mud, but the most of it was just gravel and rough rocky trail road. Our way back up the path to the other road and to the cemetery in the dark took only 1/3 of the distance our day time hike had taken us, and we didn't even come across any deleterious snow piles, mud paths, bears, or large cats. We were there. The whole point of the trip. The cemetery at night, under cover of darkness.
We stay there as long as we could, at the grave of one Mary, wife of Mr. Thornton. Tried asking questions of any spirits in the cemetery (any EVP recordings wouldn't be able to be evaluated till later, of course). It was so cold, we couldn't stop shivering, so we ended up ending the visit early, and hiked back down to camp, backtracking along the gravelly, rough rocky trail we traversed to ascend up to the road leading to the cemetery. On the way out, he asked what time it was, and looking at my watch I replied it was 10:06pm. We hadn't spent that much time up there, but it seemed like an extra hour had passed.
We got back down to camp and sat at the propane fire (wish we would've brought some wood, it would've been hotter and more comfortable!). I look at a video on my phone, and it says the video was taken at 9:28, which would coincide with when we were at the cemetery, but looking at my watch it shows that it's only 9:36 or so. It doesn't make sense. We just gained an hour. Mountain Daylight Time doesn't take effect until one reaches Utah, so there's no reason we should experience an hour time chance with a hike of 1 km. But we do. We're weirded out about it. He starts checking his watch and phone, and as he's looking at them the time changes back an hour, and all the time pieces are on the same time, but the video of the cemetery in the dark shows it was recorded minutes from now (then). We decide we're too tired, and it's time to hit the shucks.
I quickly put my thermal undies on, and we decide to turn in for the night. Now, the new sleeping bags I just acquired are rated for comfortability at 18F. I thought we'd be good. When we decided to bed down for the night, it was about 34F. I throw on my thermals, and it's COLD. I'm shivering as I put them on. But once they're on, I jump in my new sleeping bag, and oh, boy, is it TOASTY. I drift off to sleep almost immediately...
I wake up sometime in the night, shivering like I've got the palsy. Cold wet drops of water drop onto my face, and I realize my breath is condensing on the sleeping bag as I breathe out. Literally, as I breath out, my breath condenses on the fabric of the sleeping bag. It then proceeds to drip onto my face. I tighten up the face hole in the sleeping bag until just my schnoz pokes out. I drift off now and then, wake up shivering. I read somewhere that placing the next days clothing at your feet in your bag helps keep them warm for when you put them on the next morning. False. I feel like my toes are getting frostbite. They're bound to snap off if I move them wrong.
The whole night, I slightly adjust, hug myself for warmth, try and utilize every last bit of insulation in the sleeping bag, and eventually the morning sun rises, and I've survived the night. My buddy wakes up, and I hear him making all sorts of comments about the state of things. Eventually I emerge from the insulation of my bag and I see the sheet of ice that's formed on the interior of the tent. I check the thermometer and the temperature is down to 16F. So much for comfort at 18F - Surely a 2 degree difference couldn't have had me awake the whole night worried about freezing to death, having lucid dreams of freezing in my sleeping bag and my wife conducting some rescue search in the mountains... 18F my eye.
We dress out, and try to make coffee. All of our water has frozen solid. The 2 gallons in the rotopax has frozen solid. I thought the container had cracked, but so far it seems to be fine. The
EIGHT GALLONS in the rolling jug has frozen solid. Some 60 pounds of water, frozen solid to a block of ice in the shape of a jug. How the hell can we have coffee if our water is ice? I check my hiking backpack, and the 3L pouch is a brick. Underneath the backpack in the tent is a 1L bottle of water that isn't frozen, and I'm ecstatic. I hold it up, not believing my eyes, and I'm thankful it's liquid. I give it a shake out of excitement and it turns to frozen slush at the movement. Well, frozen slush can still ne squeezed from the bottle, and so it is, and we soon have a cup of instant coffee each. It's amazing. Hot coffee, a granola bar each, a frozen banana, and it's time to warm up.
We sit in the Tacoma with the engine on. Seat heaters on max. Eventually the engine is warm enough and the cab is full of hot air, blowing much needed warmth onto our toes, and, as it turns out, I don't have frostbite. We're able to continue our adventure, as soon as we're warm enough to.....