The night before was gambling. It was colder than you would expect, with half the valley filled with firefighters coughing as they walked to a line of cardboard buckets filled with steaming calories. But before everyone beds down for the evening, we all sit and watch a shiny quarter fly through the air over a pile of cash, waiting to see if it’s heads or tails. 3 crews… a big pile of cash. Everyone wants to know what year the quarter was minted.
Don’t touch the quarter.
I’ve seen $1,000 cash won and lost on the top of a ridgeline no one’s ever been to. I’ve seen firefighters play high card in the deepest of drainages for $150 a hand simply because they’re bored.
“Wait, you’ll give me $450 to eat 37 packets of mayonnaise and wash it down with a can of beanie weenies… including the juice…, all under 2 minutes.”
“Line em up.”
If you didn’t pay, you can’t watch.
Figures slowly move towards their respective sleeping areas or to the back of the overhead light-lit buggy. Three people on Bravo are passing around NyQuil like it’s a Jameson bottle at a backyard fire pit party. Melatonin… I’ll take two, please. Boots off, crawl in, mummy up, see ya in the morning,
Eyes open.
What time is it? I think I just heard a zipper… yeah, people are moving. Check my watch, socks on, boots on, PG bag packed, zip it up, and take in my surroundings.
Coughs. Frost.
The valley is full of humans breathing into their hands as they try to dissemble tent poles faster than the frostbite settles in. The truck says 23 degrees, and no one is questioning its digital readout. It’s a grab-and-go breakfast, so the back of the buggy quickly fills up with hands holding cold yogurt, a Danish, a banana, and frosted flakes mini-boxed cereal.
Crewmembers bent over in their buggy seat randomly yell, “fuck” like Tourette’s was served for breakfast instead of that frozen Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich. The heater doesn’t work that well… The kid in the back ate a Grandma’s Peanut Butter Cookie for his breakfast and mutters,
“Grandma’s kinda giving me a look…”
Everyone knows by now that the sun breaks into the valley once the briefing is over. The briefing circle is a collection of really nice puffy coats that look like a homeless person has been living in it. Each hand is attached to a coffee cup; nicotine has already worked its way into the bloodstream, and everyone huddles around a scratchy radio broadcast just to see if any frequencies changed.
Nope.
Time to load up.
The sun is up, and movement in the valley has greatly increased. Buggy bins are open, and coffee is being made so mugs can be filled and prepped for the hike ahead. When you get to the top, you’re gonna want a sip.
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