Approaching what appeared to be the edge of a ridge or cliff, I came upon a small sunken area reasonably protected against the wind by a 6-foot rock wall and adjoining trees/bushes. Kicking away several inches of fresh snow I cleared a tight area that allowed me to sit upright on my ensolite sit-pad with my legs stretched out. It wasn't much in the way of a manger, but I was grateful to get in. I had done fine all day with a light parka over my polypro top. adding rain pants over wool slacks, a pile jacket, balaclava and mittens all made me snugly warm. I felt neither tired, nor hungry, nor very thirsty. I just felt awful. It somewhat casually dawned on me that I could build a fire if I cared to - there was a lot of scrub pine and I had wind & waterproof matches and firestarter. I initially put it off as unnecessary, but eventually decided it would give me something to do. As I rummaged through my little "emergency bag" I stumbled upon IT Good grief, how embarrassing! I could see the headlines now: "Climber Succumbs to Cold - Space Bag Unopened." After carrying the stupid little thing for years, now I nearly blew my big chance to use it. Setting it temporarily aside, I got up and gathered dead twigs and such. The little candle worked great for its 8-min. lifetime, but I was unable to sustain the flame with the damp materials. Stripping bark finally gave me dry fuel but all the effort seemed like more trouble than it was worth. Eventually I was able to sustain a small but stable fire - something to warm my fingers whenever I had to remove my mittens. It was positioned within easy reach near my feet and close to the rock wall, which provided some protection from the wind and reflected the heat. The Space Bag seemed hopelessly fragile as I managed to carefully pull it over my boots and up a little beyond my hips. It may work great in harsher conditions but it was of no real value to me, sheltered as I was from the wind and wearing waterproof shells. The first time I needed to climb out, it quickly tore to shreds. A Space Blanket would have been far more functional in this instance. (In retrospect I could have used part of it as an additional heat reflector.) I was thinking that maybe it'd be safe to doze off, but the few times I tried to do so I would soon began to shiver. I simply wasn't insulated well enough to sleep. Sitting still really numbed out my toes and I wondered what more I could do for them. I keep my goggles protected within a heavy sock, figuring the latter could also serve as a backup mitten. Why not as a backup heavy sock! So much for one foot. My pocket 35mm camera has a flannel carrying pouch. I was elated to find that it would fit over my other foot inside the outer sock. I made sure the boot laces were very loose and put my feet back into the daypack. I just got used to the toes remaining somewhat numbed out. I could easily wiggle them and saw no need to warm them at the fire. (It would be five days before a slight tingling would finally disappear.) I had always heard how incredibly long a bivouac night can be and I purposely avoided checking my watch too often. I was happy to find a 2-3 hr. lapse each time I did so. By midnight the clouds had about run out of snow and the wind was far less fierce, but the full moon was visible only in my mind. I had settled down to slowly nibbling my spare candy bars, sipping from my dwindling water supply, and tending my meager fire - all behaviors essential to my efforts to stave off hypothermia. I knew my Mom would also still be up, sitting anxiously by the phone, wishing that I was still big on bicycling or running instead of mountaineering. Neither of us would be at midnight Mass. The little fire and I were eventually fast friends - neither could do without the other. My tiny world was a far brighter place because of it. It spoke to me in gentle crackles, touched me with an occasional flying ember, and warmed me in many immeasurable ways.

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