Luckily, there was plenty to pick from. I ladened the carrying bag down with small-to-medium-sized logs, some twigs, and some handfuls of dead leaves. Once it was so full I could just get the two handles together, I headed back to camp.
I did that three more times before we had a stack that would last all night.
Setting the tote down next to Toren’s things, I grabbed my water and took a healthy drink as I watched Toren spread the rain shield over the tent. Now my back hurt in addition to my sore legs. There was a massage day in my future once I got back to Juneau.
A gust of wind came up, yanking the rain cover from Toren’s grasp. It flapped in the wind from the spot where he’d already secured it. I set my bottle down and hurried over to grab it before it could snag on a rock. It pulled against my grip, sending water showering over me. Icy tendrils slid down my neck. A quick shiver went through me. I was ready to start a fire and retreat inside the tent to take off this gear.
Toren snagged the nylon line hanging from one corner. I held onto the fabric while he tied it down. My gloves were soaked.
I looked up at the sky. Hopefully, we could get and keep a fire going. There was enough wind to blow the rain in under the outcropping.
With the rain cover secure, Toren moved over to the stack of firewood and picked up several pieces. He rounded the back of the tent—which I now saw was actually the front. He’d turned it so we faced the rock wall and not the forest.
I hurried around to the other side, where he’d crouched about six feet from the tent and was clearing debris from the forest floor.
“Go grab some twigs and some of that finer stuff you gathered,” he said without looking up.
Eager to get the fire going, I quickly did as he asked, loading my arms up with smaller bits of wood.
I dumped it beside him. “Is that enough?”
He glanced at it. “Should be. Can you get my bag? I need my fire-starting stuff.” Picking up a log, he laid it onto the bare ground he’d exposed.
Spinning around again, I found his bag. Slipping a hand under the shoulder strap, I lifted, but it barely left the ground. “Holy crap, Toren,” I muttered under my breath. “I thought my bag was heavy. What did you pack? Rocks?” With both hands, I heaved and managed to lift it and get it over my shoulder. How did he manage to hike so far with this much weight?
“This thing is heavy.” I dropped it down beside him.
He reached for it, sparing me a quick look. “Not really.”
I huffed. Of course he wouldn’t think it was heavy. To him, it probably wasn’t. He had at least a foot in height and probably close to a hundred pounds in weight on me.
Sparks flew as he scraped the ferro rod over the starter block, sending a small shower of orange into the dead leaves and bits of plant material I’d gathered. After several strikes, it lit. A wisp of smoke rose from the pile, then a small flame erupted. Gathering it into his hands, Toren blew on it gently, then stuffed it under the stack of small twigs he made. Blowing on it some more, it soon caught the larger pile on fire, and he sat back.
Warmth rose, heating the cold skin of my face. I yanked off my wet gloves and held my hands out.
Toren unzipped the tent. “Get in there and take off that wet gear. I’m going to rig up another wind break and keep the fire’s heat from escaping.”
“I’d rather stay out here for now. It’s warmer, even with the wind blowing in. There’s no heat in the tent yet.”
He stared at me for several seconds, then shrugged. “Okay.” Reaching into his bag again, he pulled out a folded tarp, some rope, and some stakes. “How about you heat up some water, then? So we can make lunch.”
“I can do that.” Glad to have something to do—and something that kept me close to our heat source—I dug into my backpack for my cooking supplies. Finding my little pot, mycamp stove, and the small bottle of propane to light it with, I set it all up near the fire on a flat rock.
“I have a tripod that collapses, if you want to hang a pot over the fire instead,” Toren said.
“Maybe for dinner tonight. Right now, I just want to get some warm food in us, so we can get dry.” I lit the stove. Pouring water into the pot, I set it on the burner, then dug into my bag for my dehydrated meals, grabbing two.
With everything laid out, I moved into the doorway of the tent, shielding myself from the breeze and the little bit of rain making it into our shelter, and watched Toren work. By the time he had the windbreak up, the water was boiling, so I scooted forward, cut off the propane, and added the water to the meals.
Toren tossed our bags into the tent, then motioned me inside. Holding both meal packets, I went in, handing him one as he sat down.
“Thanks.” He looked at the pouch, his eyebrows dipping. “Is this one of yours?”
I nodded, digging my utensils out of my backpack.
“You could have grabbed one of mine for me.”
I shrugged. “It’ll all even out eventually, I’m sure.”