While I, Logan Barnes, wasn't a crazy climate-denier like oil and coal company executives, I was complacent in believing that man-made global warming wouldn't drastically affect my life. I had a house in an elevated location in a supposedly earthquake-free zone in Southern California where wild fires had never been a problem, and was figuratively fat and smug with my situation. I had some tangential knowledge about people who I considered alarmists saying that California could be hit by a Megastorm -- actually an atmospheric river as had happened in 1861-62 -- during which 16 inches of rain (or if snow in the mountains ten times that) could fall during a month long deluge, but it went in one of my ears and out the other.
At twenty eight years old my wife Lacey and I had a good relationship overall, although some of our keen interests diverged significantly. For example she loved stage plays most, and I loved winter camping most, whereas we each loathed what the other loved most. That normally wasn't a source of friction since I didn't mind her attending stage plays -- even multi-day festivals -- by herself or with friends and she didn't mind me winter camping by myself or with friends; in each case as long as it wasn't for more than two or three days.
So it came to be one three-day January weekend she went to a stage play festival in San Diego with one of her girlfriends while I went by myself winter camping in the southern Sierra Nevada mountains. I probably over-prepared with food and warm weather gear, but I hated to be under-prepared and then have an emergency. I probably had enough food for a week if I marshaled my intake carefully, and enough warm weather gear to never get cold even in an Alaskan winter.
The first night of my trip was just what I hoped that it would be. The cold mountain air was invigorating, and there was just enough snow to make walking in my boots comfortable, no need for snowshoes, which I didn't bring with me. The second day of my trip there was a little light snow, but nothing significant, and I found a nice location to pitch my small tent. Normally, I see at least one or two people a day when camping, but I had not seen anyone since the 5,000 foot mark early the first day.
Things changed drastically for the worse when I woke up the morning of the third -- and supposedly last -- day when I had a hard time even getting out of my tent there was so much snow, and it was still coming down. I ate some energy bars and broke camp and started heading back to where my car was parked, probably fifteen miles or more away. After the first hour of making little progress I was cursing myself for not getting closer to my car before camping, but I cut myself a break when I realized that never before in my life had it snowed at the high rate that it was now coming down.
I was taking a rest when I saw another figure in the distance, somewhat approaching me. I yelled and waved and the figure acknowledged my presence and starting walking directly toward me. Since the figure seemed to be shorter than I was it was only polite to walk toward the figure to meet halfway rather than let him/her trudge all the way to me in the increasingly deeper snow.
We met at a location about 100 meters from where we each started and exchanged greetings. The voice emanating from the thick winter clothing was female. "Hi, I'm Veronica Swain. Do you have any idea how to get out of here back to the town of Olancha?"
"Hi, Logan Barnes, nice to meet you," I replied. "I'm trying to go there myself but I'm not making much headway in this snow. Do you know how long it's supposed to last?"
"The last radio transmission I got -- yesterday -- said that the California Atmospheric river was coming. If that's what this is, we're going to get several feet of snow -- maybe ten feet or more -- unless we can get out of here."
"I thought that that storm was a myth," I choked out. "Hell, if this is the California Megastorm we need to find shelter. Are you aware of any in this area?"
"I have a very detailed map, including with structures on it," Veronica said, "but it may be out-of-date and anyway I'm not very good at reading it -- maybe you can?"
"I'll take a look," I said.
Veronica turned around so that I was facing her backpack -- which seemed too large for someone her size -- and she told me what pocket it was in. I knocked off the snow and quickly found it and removed it from a side pocket of the backpack. She turned back around and looked at the map with me.
I had a GPS device that worked even without cell reception -- of course there was no cell reception here -- and after careful study of the plastic map (if it had been paper it would have been soaked and unreadable after two minutes) I concluded that there might be a cabin about a mile from our location. The only problem was that it was more up than down. I talked to Veronica about it and she said "Let's give it a try."
We had to take rest stops every fifteen minutes or so the snow was so deep. I expected Veronica -- due to her height and large backpack -- to have more trouble than she had, but she wasn't slowing me down at all. Finally, after more than an hour and a half we saw the cabin.
We first knocked on the door -- as expected, no one answered. Then I tried the latch (there wasn't really a door handle). It was locked, but the lock looked easy to defeat. I'm a practicing mechanical engineer with a BSc from Caltech and a year toward my PhD before I started working in the real world. In less than two minutes the door was open without any damage.
I was pleased to see the efficient design of the cabin. It was on a rise with the high point of the roof above the entrance, sloping down toward the back where there seemed to be a ravine. That meant that the roof wouldn't likely collapse even if it did snow ten feet. The inside of the cabin was rustic but livable, with a large wood-burning stove with a greatly elevated chimney sticking up well above the roof, a significant pile of wood on the inside, and a lean-to near a small side door full of logs cut and chopped to stove length. Given some of the interior decorations it appeared to be a hunting cabin of some sort.
The rustic interior had a small kitchen area, a primitive-looking bed with an unusual specialty mattress that seemed to be between twin and double size, a closet closed by a door, and a separate bathroom with what appeared to be a composting toilet and small shower stall.
After Veronica and I set down our backpacks and removed some layers of clothing I opened up the closet door. It too was locked, but with the same easily-defeated lock that the front door had. Inside it was much roomier than it appeared from the exterior. It had a fold-up cot, some blankets, what appeared to be a good store of dehydrated food and containers of nuts, a few miscellaneous things like a snow shovel, and most surprising an almost new Xianxus emergency hand crank 150W generator. I was familiar with it because I almost bought one for use at my home and office (I got a different brand instead, but considered this unit a good one).
I showed Veronica all of my finds, and she picked up on my enthusiasm and was happy with what we had, which was more than we could have hoped for.
I fired up the stove while Veronica did a thorough inspection of the kitchen area and the food stores. Within minutes the cabin was warm enough for us to shed our hats and the rest of our outer clothing, leaving her in a body suit and me in wool pants and a long sleeve shirt. I suddenly noticed that Veronica was hot -- not her temperature, her looks. I believe that I was deadpan when I noticed and didn't give my reaction away.
Ronnie -- that is what she told me she preferred to be called -- and I decided that we needed to take a complete inventory of everything we had in case we were stranded for a week, given how the snow kept falling. We folded open the cot to have room to hold our wares, and with that, the bed, and the lone table, we were able to display everything we had after we both opened up our backpacks and we moved the stored dehydrated foods and nuts from the closet.
"Well at least we won't starve," Ronnie chuckled after we inspected everything. Like me she had brought more food than she needed for what she considered would be a five day trek. We also had a deck of cards, there were a couple dozen books on a shelf near the front door, and with the manual generator we could keep our phones charged and play games on them -- although communication with the outside world was out.
The major problem that we were going to have was water. It appeared that the only way to get water in our present circumstances was to fill a bucket with snow, put it on top of the wood burning stove to melt it, and then use it as necessary. We tested them and found that the sink and the drain in the small shower stall both worked -- that is they didn't back up. Obviously the drain pipes went deep into the earth. That meant only sponge baths to keep ourselves clean, and sparsely using the bucket water to wash any dishes we dirtied or to clean clothing.
Before it turned dark we had all three buckets in the cabin filled with water and I had cleared the doorway from the still rapidly falling snow with the snow shovel and a snow scoop that Ronnie found at the back of the closet. Our food was unexciting but nutritious, and we had all of our possessions stowed where we wanted them. I insisted that Ronnie use the bed and I would use the cot.
After it got dark I used the hand crank generator to power two electric lights in the cabin and charge our phones. Ronnie insisted on doing some of the cranking. The only uncomfortable moments were using the composting toilet -- which I also connected the generator to in order to keep the fan running -- and taking sponge baths, each of us using one bucket full of water to accomplish that. I also used some of my water to shave since I hate having stubble and a beard is out of the question.
