Home sweet home on the Skoki Loop at Baker Lake. That night I tucked into my sleeping bag when it was still somewhat light out - I was exhausted, so I put my headphones in with an audio book on and pulled my toque down over my eyes. I zipped my mummy bag all the way up (because I’m always cold) and pulled the little built-in mittens on the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands.
When the temperature dropped, I woke up in the middle of the nigh face down in my sleeping bag with no opposable thumbs, no understanding of why I couldn’t see, and Tina Fey conversationally telling me about Saturday Night live. I panicked like a cat trapped in a sack.
I’m going to go ahead and assume that no one else wake up imprisoned in their sleeping bags, but if you do, here’s my advice: don’t thrash around until you end up on your tent-mate’s sleeping pad. Instead, take a deep breath and just remember that you haven’t been buried alive. And then remind yourself that you are actually sleeping outdoors, enjoying nature, and that this is something you chose to do. Then spend the next fifteen minutes trying to free your hands. Also, pick up a copy of Tina Fey’s Bossypants if you haven’t read it yet; it’s my go to for sleepless nights outdoors.