I woke up this morning feeling like the contents of my water bottle -- frozen. That night Andrew and I had made camp on one of the Queen Charlotte's eastern beaches, near Skidegate.
However, the trying conditions were more than overwhelmed by the view as I grudgingly pulled myself out of my tent. In a pool of aquamarine sky, the sun was rising like a ball of liquid fire over the ocean horizon. The stones, sand and sea weed glistened in the golden glow of the first rays of the rising sun.
To resuscitate my frozen corpse from I attempted a shivering and frantic jog back and forth across the beach. With my circulation revived I attempted a lurching series of downward dog yoga stretches. To the by stander (fortunately there were none!) it must have looked a new variety of epileptic seizure. At least now I now what it feels like to awake from cryogenic hibernation!
The yoga, the exercise, and the sunrise were a great consolation after the frigid awakening. My key realization this morning: I must return my sleeping bag. Its -7 C rating is a definitive marketing ploy!