The rain was relentless, mixed indistinguishably with my sweat. The last streaks of daylight faded as darkness descended, and I felt the icy coldness of the night seep in. I was on a month long, solo antler hunting trip in the mountains of ldaho, and I had walked thirty miles with a pack nearly the equivalent of my own body weight. Exhausted and soaking wet, I knew that if I didn’t find a way to warm up soon, I would be in trouble. The narrow path I was on had a steep drop co a river on one side, and a cliff on the other. There was no viable option co stop and start a fire or crawl into my sleeping bag, so I pushed on.
Every muscle in my body was screaming, but it was my feet that commanded attention. Several large, pillowy blisters had formed, and gradually expanded to include every roe and even the soles of my feet. These filled, burst and ripped through layer after layer of skin, all of which now dangled limply like wet tissue paper. Several of my toenails were barely hanging on, having been pushed to almost a right angle by blood-filled pockets. I gritted my teeth and peeled them off. The heavy weight I was carrying had expanded my feet laterally, the compression of my boots com pounding the excruciating pain. I could feel my heartbeat in my wounds. I cook them off and pushed forward. The patchy snow on the trail numbed the raw flesh of my bare feet, offering a brief reprieve in a trail of bloody footprints.
Every fiber of my being was yelling for me to give up, but I convinced myself to take just ten more steps, and then ten more, for what seemed like an
