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It’s 15 degrees today. That reminds me of when I got frostbite for the first time. It was down in Georgia on the Appalachian Trail. I had been out there for about a week already and the weather hadn’t really been that bad for the mountains in March. But then it got cold. Dag, it was cold. And one morning the wind was howling so bad that it took me almost 30 minutes just to pack up my tent. My hands were frozen. The next day I had a weird spot on my hand. It was there for the rest of my trip. There was a doctor out there walking as well and he told me I had frostbite. At first I thought that sucked. But then I realized that I didn’t lose my fingers or anything. This frostbite crap ain’t so bad. Why does everyone say frostbite is so dangerous? Don’t believe the hype.