Base camp trekking in America is basically my mid-life crisis with better views, and I’m here typing this on my cracked phone screen cuz my laptop died mid-sentence last night. I’m in my Denver apartment—well, technically a shoebox with a view of a parking lot—but the mountains are right there taunting me through the blinds. Got dog hair on my leggings, cold pizza crust on the coffee table, and this nagging feeling I forgot to pay rent again. Anyway, base camp trekking in , let’s do this before I chicken out.
Why I Keep Coming Back to Base Camp Trekking in America (Even Tho It Hates Me)
I’m from Ohio, okay? Cornfields, humidity, zero elevation. Moved to Colorado for “adventure” and now I voluntarily carry 40 pounds up hills just to sleep on rocks. Last time in the Winds—Cirque of the Towers, base camp trekking in style—I cried when the wind ripped my tent stake out. Like, ugly cried. But then the alpenglow hit and I forgot my name. Worth it? Jury’s out. Check Wind River permits here cuz I always forget.
The Cast-Iron Skillet Debacle (Base Camp Trekking in America Edition)
Bought a Lodge 8-inch skillet cuz Pinterest lied. Thought I’d be Gordon Ramsay at 10k feet. Reality: hauled it 6 miles, used it once for sad eggs, then ditched it behind a rock like a bad ex. My buddy still sends me skillet memes. Moral: if it needs bacon grease to not rust, leave it for car camping. Base camp trekking in is ultralight or ultracry.
Gear I Swear By for Base Camp Trekking in America (And the Stuff I Regret)
- Tent: Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2. Fits me, my pack, and my existential dread.
- Bag: Western Mountaineering something-or-other. Warm but I overheat and kick it off like a toddler.
- Stove: Jetboil. Anything else is just masochism.
- Filter: Sawyer Squeeze. Once clogged it with glacier silt—drank chunky water for a day. 10/10 do not recommend.
- Poles: Black Diamond. Saved my knees and my dignity when I faceplanted into a marmot hole.
Pro tip: test your gear in the backyard first. I didn’t. Woke up in a puddle cuz I pitched my tent on a slope. Classic.
Altitude Sucks and Other Base Camp Trekking in America Truths
CDC altitude info cuz I’m not a doctor.
Gummies > Glory (Snacks for Base Camp Trekking in America)
Haribo Goldbears. Fight me. When you’re bonking at 11,000 ft and questioning life choices, a peach gummy is therapy. Pack two bags—one for trail, one for when you’re sobbing into your ramen.
Getting Lost is Part of Base Camp Trekking in America (Oops)
GAIA GPS is my lord and savior but paper maps don’t need charging. Once followed a “trail” that was actually a stream. Soaked boots, ruined socks, learned to read contours the hard way. Download offline maps or become a cautionary tale.
Training? More Like Suffering for Base Camp Trekking in America
Started with stairs at Red Rocks carrying a backpack full of books. Week 1: died. Week 4: less dead. Now I hike with weight and pretend the side-eye from tourists is admiration. Yoga helps my hips not scream. Downward dog at altitude tho? Spiritual experience or near-death, hard to tell.
Night-Before Base Camp Trekking in America Panic
Lay out gear. Panic. Repack. Eat entire Domino’s pizza. Write dramatic note to my mom. Sleep? Nah. Stare at ceiling fan till 4 a.m. wondering why I do this to myself.
Yeah So Base Camp Trekking in America is Dumb (Do It Anyway)
Your feet will blister. You’ll smell like a wet goat. You’ll question every life choice. But then you’re at camp, stove hissing, stars so close you could high-five Orion, and it’s like… oh. This is why.
Go book a permit. Pick a mountain. Send me your dumbest mistake—I’ll commiserate. And if you see a guy with a holey sock and pizza breath limping down the trail, wave. It’s probably me.
