I was naked, wet, alone, and shivering inside of my down sleeping bag, perched precariously on the banked side of a mud-strewn switchback about halfway up Saddle Peak in the Santa Monica Mountains. “Is it safe to sleep in these conditions?” I wondered. “How long before I become hypothermic?”
Before I knew it, I had packed up my camp quicker than ever before and was bailing from my thru-hike, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I slid down the trail and walked along the road until I had enough cell service to call a friend to come pick me up. It was only 45 degrees outside, but my adventure was ruined. And it was all because I didn’t know a thing about fabrics.