My first camping spot was at Crater Lake. I had no down jacket. As a new immigrant, all I had were flimsy jackets. I was cooking sinigang and cried out of frustration. Frustrated that I felt too cold with numbing fingers. Too cold that my jackets could not keep me warm. Too cold and exasperated that I went inside the tent and still could not get warm. I was full of complaints that my husband responded with zero empathy and clinical dismissiveness: “It is all in your head.” He wanted to shut me off like a faucet. Little did he realize a squeeze, a warm hug and empathy would have kept me quiet in my suffering.
“Are you kidding me? Are you saying I am just imagining it?” I wanted to blabber some more. I am not being heard. Desperate to be right, the scientist in me left water in the pot outside our tent.
The next morning I was still hot and boiling with anger. I got out of the tent and flustered, I saw a pot of rock solid ice. Yup, ice.
I took the pot to my husband and said, I did imagine the cold yesterday. You see this pot? Ice freezes at 32 degrees F. I declared with high horse attitude, ready to crush him.
Months later, still dissuaded from going any more camping, I declared no more camping for me. Never to be discouraged and ever persistent, my husband did not give up persuading me. He bought me a down jacket, blue with a hood. Since that first down jacket, he has bought me two more.
When winter rolls in, we casually just prepare our technical clothing and we drive off to our favorite winter spots. One of these is still this beautiful Crater Lake.
Still to this day, I have more stories to tell about Crater Lake.