Jess Alford

At Mile 101 I quickly realized that I was in trouble. The rest of the class was concerned when I showed up for the trip without snow pants. I wasn’t worried. I had shot at 40-below before with fewer layers.

But at Mile 101 the wind bit into you. My glasses fogged up as soon as I stepped outside. My auto focus was useless in the dark. Since I could make out headlamps, I focused on their light and hoped for the best. The wind cut through the two pairs of gloves I was wearing like they weren’t even there making it hard to take the shot.

I gave my camera battery regular breaks as an excuse to discretely try to warm up my trigger finger, which felt like it was on fire from being out in the wind even with two layers of gloves.

As my eyes watered from the cold, freezing my camera to my nose, I was sure I was going to get frostbite. Familiar voices bundled in layers asked me how I was doing. I told them my legs and core were fine. I secretly took comfort in knowing that the pain in my feet meant they were still alive.

After my audio kit fell apart, I gave up all together and spent the rest of my time at Mile 101 doing my very best not to get left behind. This was easier said than done.

Between the darkness and my frequently fogged glasses, I was nearly blind and thought everyone had headed to the parking lot to leave. Fearing it may already be too late, I stumbled away from the voices and towards the parking lot hoping Sarah’s truck would still be there. As Fate would have it, we got there around the same time and she had a few extra sets of hand warmers which I graciously accepted.