The other day I threw my tent and cold weather sleeping bag into my big Osprey backpack and headed for the Peaks looking for the edge of snow and some silence. I ended up spending the night near an old aspen grove up in the wilderness, my tent nestled in under the cover of some limber pines. The next morning I unzipped the tent, stepped out into the frosty stillness and snapped the above photograph.
The steaming hot mug of crappy Folgers instant coffee I heated on my backpacking stove never tasted so good. Any other time I can't stand the stuff, but drop the temperature down to 30 degrees, surround me with miles of pine trees and the roar of a propane stove and that stuff is amazing, way better than anything Starbucks can brew up.