Sunrise in the campground is cold and white. A light layer of snow has fallen, rendering everything beautiful. But the striking white veneer over the dry brown earth is thin. Our boot prints disrupt the snow as we dig for warm coals beneath the remnants of burned-out logs.
“There’s always something under the surface,” Matt says. “Just have to uncover it.”
Soon there’s a dry circle of coals on which we light the fresh wood Matt had the forethought to keep in our tent overnight.
Cooking eggs and bacon over the campfire is easier than I would have expected and tastes amazing for the effort. We boil a brick of cocoa and settle on the low chairs to warm ourselves by the rekindled fire.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
Matt grins his goofiest grin and the incongruity is striking. “Never better. You?”
“Yeah, great.” There are more things I want to say, to ask, but that smile makes it clear that serious topics won’t be welcome in the daylight.